The plain brown box arrived with advance notice but without any real fanfare. Bobbie Lehigh, a loyal BDN reader from Eastport, had simply reached out and told me she’d be sending a package my way.
No real description of its contents. The only hint: The items once belonged to her dad.
“And I’m 88,” she told me. “So you can do the math.”
Here’s the math: And for a bit of historical context, Bobbie’s dad passed away some 48 years ago, at the age of 71.
Sometimes, I’ve learned, the contents of plain brown boxes can be nearly magical. This was one of those times.
An array of smaller boxes were nestled inside, and each of those boxes held a different kind of game call, most manufactured by Herter’s. That company, I’ve since found out, was a well-respected mail-order outdoors company that went bankrupt some 43 years ago. Picture it as the precursor to Cabela’s, if you like, and you’ll get the idea.
Among the treasure trove: Herter’s World Famous Self Blowing Predator Call (with an instructional booklet), Herter’s 903 Deer Master Deer Call (“Shock-proof, moisture-proof, according the the label), Herter’s World Famous Numara Goose Call, and Herter’s (you guessed it) World Famous Model 2 Racoon (sic) Call.
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I began to smile.
Then I read the note Bobbie had written, and my grin grew even broader, line by line by line.
“Hi John,” she began. “These call units have been hanging around with me for years and it’s time to get them out of a drawer and into the outdoor. The only person I know of who I think might actually use them or get a story out of them is you. I think my dad, Bill Spencer outta De Kalb Jct., N.Y., would think this was an excellent move.
“He was a hunter/fisher from the time he was a kid growing up on the Spencer farm in St. Lawrence [County], N.Y. I’m the only person in the small family who took after him, and then only as a wormer, really.”
A quick explanation: Bobbie had earlier told me that she liked to fish but used worms most of the time.
“Probably he was in his 60s when he bought these calls,” she wrote. “I don’t know if they ever interested any bird or 4-legged [animal] they were engineered for. We were living out west (Idaho, Washington) when he might have used them. And he didn’t write — letters or journals so anybody could know what he might be doing out in the woods. He could tell a good story when he felt like it.”
Bobbie promised that some day, she’d tell me a fishing story I wouldn’t forget. This wouldn’t be the day, she said, because the present pandemic has her running a bit scared.
“If I don’t send this [package] today the virus may get me before I can send it,” she wrote.
Then, after signing off with a simple, “Later,” Bobbie told me that despite social distancing guidelines now in place, she could vouch for the safety of the calls.
“P.S.,” she wrote. “No one has blown these babies since last fall when someone here tried one so they are safe.”
Thus assured, I carefully removed each call from its box, gave a quick blow. My dogs and cat weren’t big fans of any of the calls, understandably, but I was. Some squeaked. Some honked. Others quacked. Some made nearly terrifying shrieks. And all of that noise was simply wonderful.
One of these days, when the rain and snow and wind finally stop, I’ll head out in the woods with a call or two, sit on a stump, and make a little bit of a racket.
We’ve got a few geese that stop by once in a while, and a flock of ducks lives on the brook that runs past the house. Deer? Raccoons? We’ve plenty of those, too.
And who knows? A few of those critters might decide they want to talk back. Heck, they might even pose for a photo or two.
That’s what Bill Spencer would have me do, after all. And that’s what Bobbie wants, too.
John Holyoke can be reached at jholyoke@bangordailynews.com or 207-990-8214. Follow him on Twitter: @JohnHolyoke. His first book, “Evergreens,” a collection of his favorite BDN columns and features, is published by Islandport Press and is available wherever books are sold.
