In Search of Maine's Mountain Lions

Students at Dexter Regional High School, led by teacher-adviser Regan McPhetres, will be investigating whether mountain lions exist in Maine.

A hot line for sightings has been created at the school for the program. A survey will be mailed out to those who call. Based on the information provided, students will follow up with either a face-to-face interview or a telephone call, according to McPhetres.

In addition, hard evidence will be collected from sightings, including photos, scat, tracks and hair. The students also will develop a map of the sightings.

McPhetres said his group will share information obtained during the investigation with the DIF&W and any other agency interested. [Link, via Cryptomundo]

Mountain lions (also called American panthers, cougars, catamounts, and "Indian devils") were once a common—and commonly feared—resident of Maine's forests. William B. Lapham described one Oxford County pioneer's encounter with a cat in his History of Rumford:

One of them once followed a Paris man, who had been to New Pennacook [now Rumford] after seed potatoes, to his home on the bank of the Little Androscoggin. He entered his house, and had just time to close the door and bar it, when the infuriated and disappointed animal came against it. But the door was stoutly made and resisted his attacks, and after hanging around awhile, he uttered a fearful cry and plunged into the forest. This man had stopped at an old camp near North Woodstock, intending to spend the night there, but, after it became dark, he was startled by the cry of a panther not far away, and knowing that the old shanty would offer no protection, he shouldered his bag and started for home by the narrow path through the woods. The animal followed him but seemed in no haste to seize him, evidently supposing him to be his own, and that he could take him when he pleased. Macomber, for that was his name, when the animal came quite near, threw down his bag of potatoes which stopped him a few moments, and afterwards threw off his coat for the same purpose, and with the same effect. After satisfying his curiosity, the mammoth cat on each occasion, set up his fearful scream and followed on. Macomber's escape was marvelous, and the incident was talked over at the firesides of the settlers for many a day and year.

[Photo credit: Cougar by Valerie]

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State Seeks Declaration of Independence

Maine Assistant State Attorney General Thomas Knowlton and Deputy State Attorney General William Stokes are heading to Virginia next month to try to retrieve the copy of the Declaration of Independence sent in 1776 to Pownalborough (now Wiscasset). It's now in the hands of collector Richard L. Adams, Jr.

Unbeknownst to Anna Plumstead, her attic in Wiscasset, Me., held a treasure: one of the earliest copies of the Declaration of Independence, delivered to her town in 1776 as part of a campaign to spread its message through the original 13 colonies.

After Ms. Plumstead died in 1994, the document was sold at an estate auction. It changed hands several times, ending up with a private collector in Virginia who paid $475,000 for it in 2001. Now Maine is seeking to reclaim it, citing a state statute that says a public document remains public until explicitly relinquished by the government. [Link]

Maine successfully prevented the sale of North Yarmouth's copy of the Declaration in 2001.

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The Fairy Houses of Mackworth

Debra Spark's family takes a hike each year on Christmas Day. Last year they visited the Governor Baxter School for the Deaf on Mackworth Island, where children are encouraged to build homes for fairies.

The first time I walked Mackworth, back when my son still needed to be carried part of the way, I saw tiny twig lean-tos, adorned with pebble paths and mussel-shell porches, and told my son, “We’re here!” But it turned out that I was only glimpsing the fairy house suburbs. Farther along the path, a fairy house metropolis appeared, the woods cluttered with miniature log cabins, teepees and sheds, most at the base of trees, some resembling Stonehenge, others small caves. There were at least 100 structures, if not more.

Last Christmas Day, my son’s own effort made use of moss — “good for fairies to dance on” — and items we’d gathered on our walk: an acorn cap, a crab shell and promising sticks. My son knew the rules of fairy-house construction, having read the manual — Tracy L. Kane’s picture book “Fairy Houses” — during his day care years. A fairy house may only be built of found treasures. No pulling pine needles from branches or denuding a birch tree. No disturbing an existing fairy house. [Link]

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