Hark! The Leatherman is coming
Chasing Connecticut's mythic vagabond...into a cave
Once you get past the melancholic gloom of fall foliage season ending, you start to appreciate some of the atmospheric changes in the woods. Stick season, in which the New England forest basically becomes one gigantic bundle of twigs, allows you to better appreciate the grandeur of those endless rows of tree trunks. And at times, you can see things among the trees that might otherwise be obscured by leaves or snow. Say, the rusted shell of a jalopy that was abandoned back when people were still reading The Hardy Boys books. Perhaps a few hidden cascades that are feeding a stream that crosses the trail just up ahead. Or maybe, you might spot another person.
For some of us, spotting a lone figure crunching their way through the forest could be the stuff of nightmares. But if you were living in southwestern Connecticut during the late 19th Century, the sight of a person in the woods moving toward you was a potential cause for celebration. Because this incoming figure might just be The Leatherman.
