Cabin

by Lou Ureneck

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  A mong the books and articles that I consulted to write this book were William Hubbard’s A Narrative of the Troubles with the Indians in New England from Pascataqua to Pemmaquid, which is the source for the story of the drowning of Squando’s child; The History of the Indian Wars in New England, by William Hubbard, edited by S. G. Drake; Dawnland Encounters: Indians and Europeans in Northern New England, by Colin Calloway; the eminently readable The Eastern Frontier: The Settlement of Northern New England, 1610–1763, by Charles Clark, my former history teacher at the University of New Hampshire; Lovewell’s Town, by Robert C. Williams, a town history written with the scholarship and sweep of a professional historian; Blueberries and Pusley Weed, by Pauline W. Moore, which provided marvelous detail on the early trades such as barrel making in the region; “The Rise and Decline of the Sheep Industry in North New England,” by Harold Wilson; The Name of War: King Philip’s War and the Origins of American Identity, by Jill Lepore; “King Philip’s Herds: Indians, Colonists, and the Problem of Livestock in Early New England,” by Virginia DeJohn Anderson; The Path: A One-Mile Walk Through the Universe, by Chet Raymo, a fascinating telling of the industrial and natural history of a New England town; Reading the Forested Landscape: A Natural History of New England, by Tom Wessels, an engaging guide to seeing the ways in which the history of middle New England is written on the wooded landscape; The Northeast’s Changing Forest by Lloyd Irland, who has been researching and writing with intelligence and care about Maine’s woodlands for decades; Glaciers and Granite: A Guide to Maine’s Landscape and Geology, by David L. Kendall; The Interrupted Forest: A History of Maine’s Woodlands, by Neil Rolde; and the unpublished journal of Sumner Kimball, a nineteenth-century Lovell farmer, which was made available to me by the Lovell Historical Society.

  I also have many people to thank: Jill Kneerim, my agent, who has been a source of unflagging encouragement and guidance; Paul Slovak, my editor, for his early enthusiasm for the idea behind the book, his careful reading of the manuscript and his thoughtful suggestions; Trish Hall, of The New York Times, who embraced, shepherded and edited “From the Ground Up,” the blog that I wrote for the Times as the cabin went up; the people of Stoneham, Maine, and especially Dan Barker, for his willingness to generously share his extensive knowledge of the town’s past; the helpful staff at the Charlotte Hobbs Memorial Library in Lovell, where I often went to write in the summer of 2010; the librarians at the Maine Historical Society, who were always helpful; Laurie LaBar, chief curator of history and decorative arts at the Maine State Museum, who pointed me toward the military records of the Adams brothers; the Bethel Historical Society, for access to its archives, including old census data; the library staff of the National Museum of the American Indian in New York City; my graduatestudent research assistants Emma Dong and Tina Tam; Boston University for supporting my work as a teacher and writer; and especially Sara Rimer. As my partner, she encouraged me to make myself into a writer. Without her, there would be no book. I also want to thank my daughter Elizabeth and my colleague Rob Manoff for their readings of the manuscript; my colleagues Mitch Zuckoff, Isabel Wilkerson, Nick Mills, Bob Zelnick and Richard Lehr for their encouragement and support; my nephews, Andrew, Kevin and Paulie for their hard work and good company along the way; and of course Paul, without whom there would be no cabin.

  Also this: Just as no American can write a book about white whales without mentioning Melville and Moby-Dick, so no writer on the subject of cabins can fail to mention Henry Thoreau’s masterpiece, Walden. I first read the book in high school, and while he and I went to the woods for different reasons and at different ages, and I make no pretense of trying to measure my modest effort against the greatness of his book, these acknowledgments would be incomplete without a deep bow to Walden, which, along with Thoreau’s other writings, has had a profound effect on how I think about the world and the way to live in it.

  ALSO BY LOU URENECK

  Backcast: Fatherhood, Fly-fishing, and a River Journey

  Through the Heart of Alaska