The following article is being presented by the authority of the author for the reading pleasure of the members of the
Big Woods Hare Hunters of the Allegheny
This article was first published in the
Conservation of the Snowshoe Hare
on the Allegheny High
Plateau.
THE FAMOUS WESLEY HILTON
writing and photography
by
Joe Ewing
High HareMan
Big Woods Hare Hunters of the Allegheny
 |
Photo by Joe Ewing Early morning at the Wesley Hilton, 2001. Note the dog kennel to the left. |
It’s been 20 years since veteran hare hunter Jim Hanson and I made that first fateful journey to the northern state of Maine. We had accepted an invitation from Mr. Bob Hedberg, Millbury, Massachusetts, to hunt Maine snowshoe hare. We hunted hare for four straight days in October out of his camp affectionately known as the “Wesley Hilton”. And did we see hare! The Maine woods was full of them. There were Snowshoe hares running everywhere. It was then I knew I was in the heart of snowshoe hare country.
Bob Hedberg, a veteran of WWII and a retired carpenter, hosted Jim and me and several hare hunters for four days of snowshoe hare hunting that fall. The gracious invitations had been extended to several old timers from New Jersey, Massachusetts, and Maine along with two old timers from Pennsylvania. Jim and I traveled over 900 miles for the privilege of hunting with the esteemed hare hunter. Bob was a strong eighty-something years old at the time.
 |
Photo by Joe Ewing The weather was so glorious Bob was found napping in the middle of a tote road one afternoon. |
This was my first fall
snowshoe hare hunt in Maine or anywhere. After a lifetime of hare hunting only
in winter and typically on snow this would be my first opportunity to hunt
brown snowshoe hares. What an exciting experience. As I said, the snowshoe
hare population was extremely high and the hounds had a ball. I never thought I
would hear the words, “there are too many rabbits!” It all made me feel like a
kid again. I’ve been visiting Maine every year since.
On Monday morning I
dropped the tailgate and my four hounds promptly took three different hares
into the backcountry. Three different chases right off the tailgate. I would
shoot a hare and the hounds never slowed. I didn’t have time to gut the rabbits
out between kills. At one point I tied the beagles to a tree so I could take
care of the harvested hares. Another time I put the beagles back in the box. I
didn’t want to get behind with my gutting and skinning duties.
|
|
 |
photo by Joe Ewing
Bob ate breakfast at a table for one. |
“What are you doing?”
Hedberg asked as I skinned out the first of many hares we killed.
“Skinning it out,” I replied.
“I can see that,” with an air of impatience in his voice Bob immediately came back, “why?”
“Cause we’re going to eat it,” my immediate response.
Under his breath I heard him whisper, “That’ll be different,” It was then I decided these hare hunters didn’t eat their kill.
photo by Joe Ewing
Two hares are down my trusty Ithaca Model 37, and the
hounds are in the box.
 |
| Joe Ewing is behind the camera. The snowshoe hares were displayed on the side of the Wesley Hilton prior to the author arriving on sight. |
The next night we had
several snowshoe hares in the pot. The October hare was tender and succulent,
the backstrap anyway. The back legs were still tougher than nails after a long
par boil so they probably weren’t too young. We had enough meat without the
hind legs. We ate “snowshoe hare supreme,” a secret family recipe right off the
Stove Top Stuffing®
box substituting hare for chicken. “Better ‘n chicken,” the hare hunters to a
man agreed, some eating snowshoe hare for the first time.
Jim Hanson is behind the camera.
The writer’s
first brown snowshoe hare and the first kill of the hunt. Not wanting to give up
the hare, Crain’s Hickory Hill Little Toby Creek Toby. Left, is Toby’s
daughter, Little Toby Creek Patch Adams. They were both pretty fair rabbits and
hare hounds in their day.
Besides Jim, Bob, and I there
was four or five other hunters in camp. A Wesley neighbor of Bob’s showed up
to help us hunt and Bob’s grandson came to camp later in the week. There was a
dog-man from New Jersey named Jack but most of the hunters were Bob’s friends from
Massachusetts. Jersey Jack hauled a horse trailer full of dogs and folded out a
portable kennel at the back of his trailer.
(L-R) Jim Hanson, Dave, Mario, Jack Trano, and Bob Hedberg.
A total of twenty or more beagles were housed in and about the Wesley camp. On opening day, the hunters, by mutual consent, contained themselves and put down only ten hounds. On the second day, there was no stifling the anxious hunters. We tried to divide up and go to different covers, however, we all arrived at the same cover. We released all twenty-plus Bob’s neighbor’s hounds. Talk about mayhem. There were hares running everywhere with the majority of the hares being “side-jumpers” or “strays.” I couldn’t hear my hounds for the chaos and commotion. It made for a memorable day though. Maybe not the day I wanted but it all worked out. All’s well that ends well.
 |
| Behind the camera, Joe Ewing “Rustic” was too tame a word for the Wesley Hilton kennel. |
We hunted some great hare covers nicknamed, “End of Trail,” “Log Pile” and “Sand Pile.” I watched partridge drumming on logs, never moving, as the beagles excitedly raced by, tonguing on an endless parade of snowshoe hare.
“Partridge” as the Mainers called the birds were bountiful too. The partridge looked like ruffed grouse to me but were repeatedly referred to as “partridge”. Numerous encounters with road hunters, shotguns protruding out of the driver’s window revealed themselves as “partridge hunters” with the slightest of inquiry. These partridge hunters seemed to be proud of their style of hunting. The explanation was found after talking to some real sportsmen. It was revealed the difference between grouse and partridge is that grouse are flying and partridge are sitting.
Jersey Jack rolled out his portable hound kennel which proved very interesting for all present. One of Jack’s beagles tangled with a porcupine. We managed to pull all or most of the quills and went back to hunting. One of Mario’s hounds ran a deer. Mario and the others spent hours driving around, listening, and looking for the dog. I’m not sure if Mario ever found his dog.
 |
| Behind the camera, Joe Ewing Jersey Jack Trano’s portable kennel.
|
Jack used what I now refer
to as a “diving board,” a beagle diving board. Jack modified a trailer hitch to
create the diving board. I’ve been using this diving board idea ever since. The
beagles catch on quickly and jump up and down readily. The whole idea is to
save the old sacroiliac.
 |
| Joe Ewing is behind the camera. Mario poses inside the Wesley Hilton. To the left is the infamous water kettle atop the oil furnace. The water kettle is an interesting story left untold. |
It had been a long dry
summer in Maine that year. The shallow well at the Wesley Hilton was bone dry.
Hot water, any water, was at a premium. Bob wanted to conserve water. I was wasting
water, according to Bob, by thoroughly washing and scalding the dishes. Bob got
a little peeved that I was using so much water. Jim and I hauled water from a
local store every evening.
During one water hauling trip Jim worked a deal with a nearby motel owner. We each got a hot shower with towels and soap for $10. When we returned and announced what we perceived as the best scheme ever all we received from our Wesley Hilton comrades were looks of shock, disbelief, and what I perceived as disgust. Believe me, when I say, most of the guys should’ve considered the idea.
 |
| photo by Joe Ewing The famous Wesley Hilton, circa 2019. |
Bob and I corresponded for
years and we were invited back several times but I never went back to the
Wesley Hilton. I’ve driven past a few times, but to tell the truth, the Wesley Hilton was too rustic for me. Somewhere I developed a
preference for not wanting to rough it. I can still rough it, I’m a country boy, and I can do anything but more importantly, I have come to enjoy and appreciate hot
water and soap.
Both Bob and Jim are gone now and probably many of the others too. Bob Hedberg hunted with many esteemed hare hunters over the years at his beloved camp in Wesley, Maine, including my respected colleague, the late Matt Curry. Bob was one of the premier hare hunters of his time and loved every minute of chasing snowshoe hare with beagles. He penned numerous fine articles for several rabbit hunting magazines. Bob coined the phrase “social lubrication”. He lived well beyond ninety years and was still hunting snowshoe hare almost until his death.
 |
| photo by J. Ewing Our respected colleague, the late Matt Curry |
Follow us on Facebook @ facebook.com/BigWoodsHareHunters/
and
On our blog @ https://bigwoodsharehuntersoftheallegheny.blogspot.com/
And on
