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
The Rabbit Hunter magazine
AUGUST 2022
VOLUME 36 NO. 12
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.
Wesley, Maine, lies 65
miles east of Bangor and 20 miles Northeast of Machias near the intersection of
state routes 9 and 192. The Wesley Hilton sits only a few hundred yards south
on 192. The area is noted for blueberries and lumbering. Wesley enjoys typical
Maine weather with large seasonal temperature differences, hot and humid in
summer and severely cold in winter. Wesley is located in the third least
populated county in Maine. Washington County, which borders New Brunswick,
Canada, is called the “sunshine county” as the county includes the easternmost
point in the 48 contiguous states. It is said, “here is where the sun rises
first on the U.S.”
 |
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.
behind the camera, Joe Ewing
(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
|
We accidentally met one
fall years later at the New Hampshire Liquor Store where I was acquiring
sweetener for my coffee and Bob was stocking up on social lubrication. This
October I will be heading up north to Maine. As I pass through Massachusetts
and New Hampshire and up I-95 I will be looking for that old white Ford van Bob
drove. I will be remembering that great fall hunt we all moderately enjoyed so many
years ago.
Follow us on Facebook @ facebook.com/BigWoodsHareHunters/
and
On our blog @ https://bigwoodsharehuntersoftheallegheny.blogspot.com/
And on
or just “google” Big Woods Hare Hunters of the Allegheny
.jpg)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG)
.JPG){kind=link}