“Up in the great lonesome woods of the North the old guides have invented many yarns to explain to the tenderteet from the cities the strange tracks and weird noises, and all the other new experiences of the great outdoors. Mr. Childs was formerly a game warden in the woods of Northern Wisconsin. The stories which he tells here are stories he collected from the old guides themselves.”
So wrote a certain somebody nearly a hundred years ago.
It always proves an interesting exercise to try and gauge the character of a person off nothing but their work. Why I like to think I'm getting better at it, it is still quite a challenge separating the author from the characters of his or her imagination. But Mr. Childs, I suspect, is one who owes a close relationship to his work. That is to say therein lies a reflection.
A mirror image of somebody who found wonder in the wilderness. Somebody who who had been around for a while, who knew the ropes, who possessed a rare quality about them. If I know naught else about that somebody other than they possessed an adventurous spirit, sincere love for nature and terrific sense of humor than that is surely somebody who would have been great to know. And somebody like that is few and far between, a certain somebody like— Art Childs.