A Fall Fur Hunt in Maine 
« * 
I.—The Journey into the Woods and the Build¬ 
ing of the Home Camp 
By MANLY HARDY 
Manly Hardy, of Brewer, Maine, the only child of Jonathan T. Hardy, was born in Hampdem, Maine, Nov. 
” ’ AsVlad and'young manrhe waf slau'and^rather frail, and up to maturity he had known almost as much 
sickness as health At the time of which he is writing his average weight was not over 125 pounds. In 
letter written not long ago to Charles Hallock, he said: “Between wounds and various sicknesses, I have ha 
few days really free from pain, but have always kept in the open air when I could move, and enjoyed life better 
^E^y ^Hfe Mr P Hardy injured his eyes by study at night, and for many years could not read at all. It was 
this deprivation which developed his remarkable memory. Yet, having passed much of his life out of doors as 
trapper, explorer and student of the wild things of the woods, his life, notwithstanding all he had had to contend 
with physically, has always been full of active interests and joys. . , 
For'the greater part of his life, Mr. Hardy had been an earnest business man, attending with his whole mind 
to the practical affairs of life, and turning to hunting, trapping and ornithology for relaxation and pleasure He 
was a hunter of deer, moose and bear, and was also fond of hunting seals and porpoises from a canoe, a sport 
which was often dangerous, and likely always to be full of excitement. He has made a long study 
ruffed grouse, and is one of the first authorities of the country on this bird. 
The son of a fur dealer, he has until the last twenty years been a buyer of furs, and became wonderfully 
skilled in this occupation. At times when his eyes were useless he seemed to judge furs by his ° f 
and his estimate formed from this sense seemed quite equal- to that of another man who possessed in add tion the 
full use of his eyes. It was his practice to ship his furs direct to London, to C. M. Lampson & Co., for the r 
great auctions, which, with those of the Hudson Bay Co. and the sales at Leipsic, control the fur prices of the 
W ° r Many years ago Mr. Hardy made the acquaintance of Major Bendire, the eminent ornithologist and author 
of the two volumes of “Life Histories of North American Birds.” Major Bendire more than once visited iI . 
Hardy, and they became close friends. The author consulted him on many points of ° rnlt ;°^ y ’ a " d ^ Cn hl ® 
volumes were published it was found that he had written into them most of what his friend had told him. The 
friendship which existed between the two continued till Major Bendire’s death in 1896. 
Mr. Hardy’s stern love of truth has sometimes led him to correct sharply in print statements which he knew 
were incorrect and it has been in such critical writings that his name has most often been seen. Yet it is not 
his nature to’find fault. On the contrary, he is a genial, humorous and wholly friendly man, who would much 
rather praise than blame, yet, as we conceive, possesses the smfple feeling that no one is entitled to especia 
credit for telling the simple truth. „onn 
Mr. Hardy has long been devoted to ornithology, and has gathered together a remarkable co lection of 3300 
United States birds, all mounted, and most of them by his own hands. So complete is this collection, that it 
lacks less than twenty of those species which have a full number in the A. O. U. Check List. Most of those 
lacking are gulls, cormorants and other sea birds. The collection includes every kind of hawk or owl ever 
taken north of the Mexican line, except the so-called dwarf screech owl—of which only one is known every 
kind of duck and goose, eighty-five different kinds of sparrows and a long list of other most interesting birds. 
Mr. Hardy is a field naturalist of the highest type. His statements command the implicit faith of scientific 
men who also have great respect for his opinions. He is a careful, thorough observer, with an immense 
practical experience in the woods of Maine. This experience is held in his extraordinary memory, which is 
confirmed by journals which he has kept. So he possesses an unequalled fund of woods lore for his own 
locality. A volume of his experiences and observations would constitute a very complete natural history of 
the birds and mammals of Maine, besides containing an enormous fund of woods experience, extending over 
more than half a century. 
I N the spring of 1859 a young man named 
Rufus B. Philbrook came to sell his spring 
hunt to my father. He had been hunting 
alone at Allegash Lake and had been quite suc¬ 
cessful. Although entire strangers, we took a 
mutual liking to each other, and on his telling 
me that he thought a good fall hunt could be 
made in the vicinity of Caucomgomoc Lake and 
inviting me to go there with him, I agreed to 
go, and it was arranged that we should start as 
early in September as we could. 
We did not see each other again, but by cor¬ 
respondence it was agreed that he should meet 
me on Sept. 6 at a point about half way to 
Moosehead Lake. He joined me as agreed, and 
a seventy-mile stage ride from Bangor landed 
us at Greenville at the foot of Moosehead where 
we both had canoes. Our canoes were of birch 
bark, as no canvas ones had then been made. 
The next morning found us and our canoes 
and outfit on the steamer Fairy of the Lake, 
Captain Robinson, bound for the Northeast Carry 
at the head of the lake, forty miles from Green¬ 
ville. This carry is so called to distinguish it 
from another some two miles to the west, called 
Northwest Carry. Northeast Carry is two miles 
long and extends from Moosehead Lake to the 
West Branch of the Penobscot River. A space 
some two rods wide had been cut through the 
spruce and fir growth and a rude railroad built 
by laying sticks hewn on two sides on cross logs 
and filling in between with poles. The rails were 
placed just far enough apart for the flanges of 
a low car wheel to go outside of them. Over 
this road, freight was hauled by a pair of oxen, 
provided the oxen—which ran loose—could be 
caught, and the driver—who lived in a log camp 
at the other end of the carry—did not happen to 
be busy at other work. While crossing here in 
1857 and 1858 my partner, the late Hiram L. 
Leonard, maker of the famous Leonard rods, 
and myself were obliged to carry our canoe and 
outfit on our backs, as the railroad was then out 
of commission. On the former occasion, while 
bending under a heavy load, I was accosted by 
a Canadian-Frenchman who exclaimed: “Young 
man, you shall carry such load as that you shall 
be crooked like General Jackson—John Bunyan, 
I mean.” In my pack at that moment was a 
copy of Pilgrim’s Progress, perhaps the first that 
had ever been across that carry. 
This day Providence favored us, and our stuff 
together with that of two explorers who had 
crossed the lake with us, was landed at the West 
Branch at about 4 P. M. We soon had our 
canoes loaded, my old friend and partner on 
several hunts, William H. Staples, who had come 
up to take passage with me as far as Chesun- 
cook, whence he was going to join A. B. Farrar, 
his hunting partner, going in my canoe. The 
Penobscot from this point is dead water for 
about two miles and this part is known as the 
Moosehorn Deadwater. 
We soon came upon our two fellow passen¬ 
gers, the explorers, who had landed to change 
their store clothes for their woods suits. They 
asked permission to camp with us, as they had 
neither tent nor axe, both of which they expected 
to get at Chesuncook. We found a good camp¬ 
ing place at the foot of the deadwater, where 
we were soon joined by the explorers. One of 
them was named Zenas Littlefield, the other Eben 
Curtis, a noted hunter who had hunted for the 
Hudson Bay Company on the North Shore, and 
who, as I have heard, died on the West Branch 
of the Au Sable in Michigan. 
We all chipped in together and spent a pleas¬ 
ant evening listening to Curtis’ stories. He was 
a powerfully built man, fully six feet tall, broad- 
chested and straight as an arrow, with long black 
hair and a Roman nose. He had hunted in the 
country where we were going and was able to 
give us information about it. One of his stories 
was too good to be lost. While coming up on 
the stage the day before a young Bangor lawyer 
had asked him if he ever had any narrow escapes. 
