I always look forward to November.

Every year an old and dear friend makes a long trip from the farmland country of Pennsylvania and the two of us head for northern Maine to spend a week in the woods hunting for deer. These trips have been ongoing since 1971, with a few gaps here and there for both of us due to 20-year military careers.

Our destinations have varied, particularly over the last few years after my cousin lost his family hunting camp following Roxanne Quimby's purchase of the land his father had leased from a timber company in the 1950's.

This year found us in The Forks, a few miles up the Kennebec River from Bingham. It was new territory for us, although we had previously spent time in the Jackman area. We were favorably impressed with the lodge at which we had made reservations and the services that they provided. Hunting, fishing, snowmobiling and whitewater rafting make this location a year-round magnet for outdoor activities and provide jobs for people in an area now depending mostly upon forest products and tourism for local employment.

I have always been puzzled by those who rail against the timber companies who own so much land here in Maine. Were it not for the stewardship and generosity of these companies, "working forests" would not be available for the public to enjoy.

There are only tiny areas of "old-stand" woodlands left here in Maine following the harvesting of timber that spread across the country to the West Coast, resulting in New England-style architecture confronting perplexed visitors in Ft. Bragg, California that were erected by itinerant loggers who could travel no further. Timber harvesting, coupled with careful replanting, results in new growth that is beneficial to wildlife of all species, compared with the "mature forests" that are devoid of underbrush and harbor far fewer animals, birds and insects. Centuries ago, wildfires caused by lightning strikes resulted in the same regenerative results.

Wildlife in the area that we spent a week in had been severely affected by the heavy snows of last winter. Our guide informed us that at one point there was at least eleven feet of snow on the ground during that period. During our five days in the forest, we saw a few tracks, but the deer residing there seemed to travel mostly at night and we experienced no live sightings.

We enjoyed ourselves immensely, however, moving about in a square mile or so of territory which provided many hours of clean air, physically challenging terrain and new things to see on a constant basis. We slept well and looked forward with anticipation to each new day.

My friend and I agreed that it was a week well spent and that we would not hesitate to return.

Some may view late fall and early winter as time of ending and anxiously await the coming of spring and a new beginning. For me, November is a time to get away from the familiar confines of southern Maine, to spend time by myself in the woods and observe its beauty and residents, to test myself physically and mentally, to enjoy the company of an old friend and to return (if only for a brief period) to a more basic way of life.

For me, a yearly opportunity for rebirth.

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