Mush to the Thrush
Foolishly, I agreed to hike up Saddleback in search of Maine’s most elusive mountain bird.
By Elizabeth Peavey
This is a real birder’s bird we’re going after,” explains group leader Bill Hancock as we start our ascent of Saddleback Mountain, overlooking the Rangeley lakes. No kidding. Despite the fact this is the first official day of summer, the wind, even at the base lodge, is blowing hard. The temperature is hovering in the forties, the skies are threatening, and the mountain is in a shroud. Plus, it’s five o’clock in the morning. Most of us have been up well over an hour already; Hancock and another member of our party left Gray at 2 a.m. Only a fool would subject herself to these conditions — or someone on a mission. [For the rest of this story, see the July 2008 issue of Down East.]
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