H<br >1<br >E HAD ELUDED ME for years and I was determined<br >to get him this time. I had spotted him， positive<br >I had， the day before， when I was walking along the shore<br >of Clam Pond， a square-inch flash of bright yellow， a<br >swatch o~ lemon patched to pitch-black， spotted him and<br >spent the rest of the day in preparation.<br > I poked around in the garage at the old unoccupied<br >house next door and found just what I needed， three<br >rusted screened doors， so all I had to buy was four<br >hinges， some sort of camouflage netting and a camp-<br >stool. I got the hinges at North Walpole hardware， which<br >didn t stock campstools， no call for them. But the musty<br >garage also provided the answer to that， a wooden chair<br >with its spoked back cleanly snapped off. No doubt a<br >story in itself.<br > The big problem was the netting， which I had to have<br >to stand any chance of success. I was almost broke， what<br >else is new， but I threw budgetary caution to the winds，<br ><br >