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By EUGENE MCCARTHY
Rappahannock New* Contributing Writer
After observing six merkle seasons carefully and scientifically, and studying the character and habits of merkle hunters, I have concluded that no two merkle seasons are alike, and tljat no two merkle hunters or gatherers are 'the same, and even that the same person as a merkle hunter changes from season to season.
Having had little success in my search for merkles last year, I was somewhat indifferent to the approach of this year’s season. One Saturday early in April (ahead of time, I thought) I saw the usual sign of merkle hunter activity, a pick-up truck parked marginally off Route 618, near a mountain ridge reputed to bear merkles. The width of Route 618 is such that one can park only marginally. That was a Saturday; I saw no hunter leaving the hill that day, but on Sunday in a casual walk, I met three searchers returning to their car. They were carrying paper bags, carefully, a sign that they had some success. I told them, truthfully, that I had a visitor who had never seen merkles, and wondered if they could spare a sample or two. I was given one merkle. This limited generosity was comparable to what had been shown me in previous seasons. I was ready to conclude that all was as it had been in other years. I was wrong...
On the next weekend, ^on Saturday, in my absence, someone left me not one merkle, but a quart or more, in a sack at my doorway with no identification. This seemed strange behavior. More was to follow.
On Easter Sunday, I received a call from Tom Massie, who two years ago, following Easter morning sunrise services on Red Oak Mountain, a time for truth, had told me that he was a successful merkle hunter and that he would take me with him the next year. The next year with its season for seeking merkles (for I had never gathered any) came and went, with no call from Tom. My confidence and trust in Tom had begun to fade but on this Easter day it was restored. He did take me with him into the mountains. The merkles were there in
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