It was late Saturday afternoon. The sun was below the tree line and in spite of hunting for two hours, we hadn’t seen a partridge yet. We crested the rise and looked down at a mound of dirt blocking the road. On the other side, the road had washed out. Beavers flooded the area long ago. It wasn’t partridge to add to the bean pot but at least we saw something. We watched two large beavers for a few minutes before heading home.
Wixson captures rural Maine in her Sovereign stories series
Redneck Roundup: I make this mug shot look good!
Summer in Maine: Kids, Camps, Community
Winter in the 1950's: Ice-fishing and pulp wood hauling