"Ever hear the Penobscot Indians talk ‘bout the thunder god Pamola? The protector of the mountain, a critter with the head of a moose, the body of a man and the wings of an eagle? I’d always thought Pamola was just some boogie man talked about over a campfire, somethin’ to scare the kids, but I swear on a stack o’ Gideons, I actually seen Pamola. It was 1931, and I was campin’ up to Mt. Katadhin with my dog Salty. First day out, Salty caught sight of a white-tail deer and, like a shot, took off after him. Just about that time, heavy fog come rollin’ in. Fog thick as chowdah­couldn’t even see my boots. But I lit out to find Salty ‘fore it got dark, though in hindsight I prob’ly shoulda stayed put. As luck would have it, I wound up takin’ a tumble down some jeezly embankment. Bounced off a few rocks and darn near got the stuffin’ knocked out of me.

“When I came to, the fog had cleared. As I started to make my way back to camp, I caught wind of some kinda awful racket. Above my head, I seen a swarm of warblers, thrushes, flycatchers, owls, hawks, and ducks all flyin’ in the same direction. Didn’t look right somehow, so I hunkered down, outta eyesight, behind a mess of bushes. Hid there for a few hours, watchin’ all kinds of wild animals makin’ a beeline over to a clearin’. Moose, bears, beavers, muskrats, and raccoons joined up with bobcats, fishers, martens, weasels, chipmunks, red squirrels, snowshoe hares, coyotes, and red foxes. Natural enemies, bein’ all chummy, and gatherin’ together’ to meet up with none other than Pamola himself.

“Now, don’t get me wrong, I didn’t really see no mythical creature. Pamola wunt nothin’ more’n a man dressed in a fur suit, with feather-pasted cardboard wings that tied to his back. But that fact, foolish as it was, didn’t seem to matter to the local wildlife. They were tickled to death he’d dropped by. Oh, and he was a sight to see too, prancin’ around with his hands stickin’ out the side of his head like antlers. He traded whistles with the birds. Hugged and kissed a tree or two. Then, for no good reason, that crazy ol’ coot just up and led the animal parade deeper into the woods.

“I know what you must be thinkin’, ol’ Earl musta suffered a concussion from the fall. Ol’ Earl musta been tippin’ ‘em back that day. Ol’ Earl’s just a crazy fool. Well, let me tell ya, once I got a look at a newspaper with a photo of former Governor Percival P. Baxter on the front page, even I started to think I wunt in my right mind. Was the fust time I’d ever seen a picture of Baxter, but I could swear he was the man I’d seen in costume up the mountain that day. Then I read how the land surroundin’ Mt. Katahdin was bein’ turned into a state park to be named after the Governor! Article went on to say how Baxter’d spent his own money to purchase that land and when he deeded it to the state, he made sure it’d always be kept as a wildlife sanctuary for wild beasts and birds. He even made sure no road would ever be constructed thereon or therein.

“You coulda knocked me over with a feather. I knew right then and there the Penobscot legend was bona fide. Katahdin really did have a protector. Pamola was real! It was all true. ‘Cept the part about the wings and antlers, well, that was just silly."