by Peter Walker
Puritan Mainers abhor open controversy and avoid public display. They tend to minimize or, better still, deny any history that appears ostentatious (or, Heaven forbid, possibly sinful!) until succeeding generations forget it entirely. Thus embarrassing incidents in Maine history, such as the stealing of the statehouse in 1879, the burning of Falmouth (what is now Portland) by the British during the revolution, and the raid on Casco Bay by a Confederate warship, were omitted in the junior high Maine history texts of my time.
Nevertheless, my seventh grade teacher, a career one-room school teacher until the consolidated Poland Community School was first opened in September, 1954, once mentioned that a remarkable religious event occurred in the first half of the 1800s in an area of West Poland called Rabbit Valley or “the Promised Land.” There seems to be absolutely no mention of these goings-on in history texts or town accounts despite the fact that this activity indirectly resulted in the birth of a major Protestant denomination. From a few internet sites, particularly the website of the Seventh Day Adventists, I’ve been able to piece together what happened. Read more…
by Peter Walker
It was 8:30 p.m. on Thanksgiving Eve. Colorado District Wildlife Manager Betsy Robinson was heading home from Iliff in Logan County an hour’s drive northeast of her home district of Fort Morgan. She was the on-call game warden for the Sterling and Akron Districts this weekend as well as her own.
Three hours ago a farmer had witnessed someone shooting at running deer from a pickup truck on a county road close to the river. The Logan County Sheriff’s Office had relayed his call to her. She contacted the farmer and got a description of the truck but no plate number. Using a flashlight she found no sign of blood in the area where the farmer had seen the deer. It was a dead end investigation.
The heavy duty tires on her Ford Super Duty hummed loudly as she cruised southwestward on Highway 6 through Atwood, then the village of Merino. The night was crisp and clear and the glow of the sunset had lingered a long time on the western horizon. Meanwhile an almost full moon had risen in the northeast and now made it possible to see trees and round hay bales and cattle quite clearly. The highway made a rising sweep to the left over the railroad tracks, then across the South Platte River. Just ahead were the three access roads to Prewitt Reservoir State Wildlife Area. As she approached the first turn-off, on a spur-of-the-moment decision, she put on her blinker and took the turn. Half a mile down the dusty county road she turned right onto a gravel access road that led to the base of the dike at the northeast end of Prewitt. The lot was empty. Read more…
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