H<br >1<br >E HAD ELUDED ME for years and I was determined<br >to get him this time. I had spotted him, positive<br >I had, the day before, when I was walking along the shore<br >of Clam Pond, a square-inch flash of bright yellow, a<br >swatch o~ lemon patched to pitch-black, spotted him and<br >spent the rest of the day in preparation.<br > I poked around in the garage at the old unoccupied<br >house next door and found just what I needed, three<br >rusted screened doors, so all I had to buy was four<br >hinges, some sort of camouflage netting and a camp-<br >stool. I got the hinges at North Walpole hardware, which<br >didn t stock campstools, no call for them. But the musty<br >garage also provided the answer to that, a wooden chair<br >with its spoked back cleanly snapped off. No doubt a<br >story in itself.<br > The big problem was the netting, which I had to have<br >to stand any chance of success. I was almost broke, what<br >else is new, but I threw budgetary caution to the winds,<br ><br >
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