Winter on Bearskin Neck

We walked by ourselves -- the wife and I -- on Bearskin Neck on Washington's Birthday. The Neck teems with humanity of all shapes and sizes, all manner of dress--and undress--during the summertime, but when bitter winds course through the winding paths, it becomes as deserted as Dogtown. But it is not uninviting; to us, it has charm for 12 months of the year, a varied charm reflected from its changing moods.

A few hardy souls live on the Neck the year round. One such is Friend Greenleaf, an artist, who was being dug out that day by an earnest young man who certainly was earning his fee. The walk to the side door of the home was plainly in need of being cleared to give its occupants escape room.

We looked for blizzard damage to the Neck, but Old Man Winter spared the cottages and shops where in the past havoc has been inflicted by high winds. The only thing amiss was a screen door twisted off its hinges at the "hut," a small cottage almost at the head of the Neck.

Looking across the bay toward Pigeon Cove, the spectacular sight of snow-capped Pigeon Hill greeted us, along with its many fine hillside homes, giving the appearance of a modest mountainside village independent of the rest of the Cape.

We bumped into Shorty Lesch of the Explorer Scouts. His head poked out of a strange door from an unoccupied shoppe. It was then we learned that Shorty plans to become an entrepreneur along that strand come summer days. Everyone likes Shorty and the way he helps folks.

Striking to the eye were rigid squads of spotless white-vested seagulls perched on the ridge poles. They stood motionless, but their eyes were everywhere. A foraging scout had tackled a disposal bucket in front of a lobster store and with persistency and considerable strength succeeded in reaching what the gull thought might be succulent items. The first stab was a blooper --just a washed-up drinking cup. The second try yielded a tasty morsel that caused a yawking and down swooped the front rank to fight over the spoils.

Over to T Wharf, lobstermen were busy about their boats. Somebody was pumping out the Nancy. Ashore the scenery was wintry but in the harbor and bay, it was as tranquil as a day in July. Only sign of February was the ice-bordered Sandy Bar breakwater.

Leo De Coste, actually the skipper of the trim sloop he was on, attending to the mooring, would hardly welcome being greeted as cap'n for fear his gang ashore would laugh him off the waterfront. But he is entitled to the rank for the amount of blue water he has wrung out of his boots.

In the village proper we reverted to practices first enjoyed in youth! Sloshing along through the slush, protected by overshoes; and walking along the top of the snow-banks instead of being our age and staying on the blacktop. After all, winter comes but once a year and why not get the thrill out of life that Topper of the movies seems to enjoy in letting down his hair?

Bumped into a friend who told us about a fellow Rockporter who was in a big department store in Boston the other day buying an article. The Rockporter asked if the clerk would take his check, so the story goes. The clerk was about to say yes, when a voice behind the Rockporter muttered, "I wouldn't if I were you; he has a poor reputation in the town where I come from." The voice another Rockporter, was saying it all in jest, as he quickly slithered out of sight. But the joke put his fellow Rockporter in a mess of trying to convince the clerk, a floorwalker, and even an assistant manager, before the check was accepted. It's a classic right now in this town.

We hadn't got much farther along when somebody stopped us to tell us about the good work that Pete Perkins and George Caffrey did in getting the ambulance on its way to a mercy call down White Way at the height of the February blizzard. A lady was expecting and needed to get to the hospital -- but fast. Fire Engineer Harold Hobbs and Fire Fighters Charles G. "Brud" Burbank and Lee Kramer turned to and manned the kit, except they couldn't get out of the Broadway barn unless they could move that high wall of hard-packed snow. That's where Caffrey came through as usual, along with Road Surveyor Perkins. They cleared the snow in jig time and also got the kit up through the Way. The patient was delivered to the hospital, but as it turned out, the actual delivery was not as near as first thought.

J.P.C., Jr.