I enjoy traveling to Montana, Alaska, British Columbia and other destinations. At the conclusion of each trip though, I'm eager to return home to Maine. Following is a short list of reasons why I love Maine.

1. Weekly newspapers

The Irregular is a weekly newspaper printed in Kingfield. The April 2, 2014, edition included a piece about the farming community's annual spring banquet: "The Franklin County Soil and Water Conservation District is hosting a silent auction during its annual meeting at the West Farmington Grange Hall. The auction will offer items that include flats of fresh tomatoes, a bucket of hydraulic oil, a screw driver set, as well as certificates for firewood, teeth whitening, oil changes, maple syrup, and KFC." Just think, a lucky bidder could return home from the auction with a bucket of KFC and a bucket of hydraulic oil.

This from the Moosehead Messenger, a weekly paper produced in Greenville, where I lived in the early 1990s: "Elsie Phillips' sister is visiting from Florida where she's lived for many years. Please join us in welcoming her back home to Maine when you see her walking the streets of Greenville. Better yet, surprise her with flowers from your garden."

2. Uncle Henry's

This weekly is Maine's best sell and swap-it guide. Its catchy slogan, "Anything Under the Sun," could also be "Anything From the Cradle to the Grave." The magazine lists everything from baby cradles to homemade coffins. Here are a few favorites from a recent issue:

"Roosters Free for the taking. You catch them, you can have them. Call for more information. Whitefield, ME"

"Need your sheep sheared? give me a call. most breeds $6 each + $25 for farm call. will do feet, worming, etc. easy on sheep, few nicks, less second cuts. travel to most places in Maine. Prospect, ME"

"POTATO BARREL Hartland, ME ~ $30."

"Young boar, about 8 months old. Hampshire/Yorkshire mix. Easy going and ready to meet some ladies. Looked good, so didn't cut him, but we have four boars on the farm already. Fryeburg, ME ~ $150."

"4 -9 month old Guernsey cross steers. Nice healthy boys. Pics. on request. $425 and up! Prentiss Township, ME ~ $425."

"2012 Pequea ground driven manure spreader. Barely used. Great for towing behind atv, small or garden tractor. Excellent shape! China, ME ~ $1,500."

"Hand Crafted Pine Wood Coffin. A more affordable alternative. Upholstered inside. Kingman, ME ~ $700."

"Team of red and white Ayrshire Oxen named Big and Diesel. Born 09/19/08 and 09/20/08. Trained them by myself since they were born. Good for logging, farming, pulling, showing, parades, collecting sap/sugaring. Excellent Ayrshire traits, build and horns. One tapes at 1780lbs and the other at 1730lbs. Gorham, ME ~ $3,000 OBO"

"60 inch color tv, can not get color on it now but still works, come get it! Lincolnville, ME"

"Glycerin: free for the taking. I have more than I can use. You can make homemade soap. I have it in plastic five-gallon containers or 55 gal drums. The glycerin is left over from making biodiesel. Lisbon, ME"

3) Yankee ingenuity and problem solving thrives in rural Maine

Maine is home to many notable inventors. Helen Augusta Blanchard of Portland patented the first zigzag stitch machine in 1873. Also in 1873, at the age of 15, Chester Greenwood of Farmington invented earmuffs when he became frustrated trying to protect his ears from frostbite. Chester made two ear-shaped loops from wire and then had his grandmother sew rabbit fur on each wire loop. He patented Greenwood's Champion Ear Protectors, and soon established Greenwood's Ear Protector Factory. He made a fortune selling ear protectors to the U.S. government during World War I.

Yankee ingenuity and problem solving highlighted by Blanchard and Greenwood still exists in rural Maine, albeit on a smaller scale. In Willimantic, I met a low-income middle-aged man working on replacing his automobile's exhaust system and transmission that he proclaimed were "pooched." Since he didn't have jacks or blocks, the vehicle, drained of all fluids, was tipped on its side. Deflated tires were wedged under the doors to prevent the vehicle from rolling over. A Chilton's Auto Repair Manual sat open on top of a block of wood for easy reference.

In North New Portland a few years ago, a hunter built a plywood "chest freezer" to store a moose he had shot in October. Throughout the winter the moose was stored inside the wooden box on the lawn. An axe affixed to the side of the box was used to chop pieces of frozen steaks to feed his family and hound dogs.

My late friend, John Soper of Orland, came up with a creative solution to thieves stealing his firewood a few pieces at a time. John was raised in the 1930s when rural Mainers took care of their own problems. Instead of reporting the thief to a sheriff, John drilled a 4-inch hole in the end of a piece of firewood. He then back-filled the hole with black powder before sealing the opening with plastic wood. That was the last piece of wood stolen from John. With a wry smile, John said, "I haven't had any wood stolen lately. I would like to have been a fly on the wall when the thief stuck that piece of stolen wood into a hot woodstove. But I'd probably be a deaf fly when that black powder exploded." I first met John in 1984, when I moved from Utah to the federal fish hatchery in East Orland. Because he had special mechanical abilities to fix anything, John was the hatchery's maintenance man. He and other employees welcomed my family by hosting a barbecue dinner during our first week in Maine. "So, John," I said, making small talk. "Are you from around here?" "Oh no......no siree," John said, deadpan. "I'm from Ellsworth." Ellsworth was less than 10 miles from Orland.

During the 1989 moose hunting season, friend Casey LaCasce of Greenville decided to raise money for the Greenville Chamber Of Commerce by selling food to hundreds of tourists watching dead moose being weighed and tagged at the Greenville moose check station. From his lunch wagon, Casey's outdoor blackboard displayed menu items and prices. Earlier that fall Casey had shot two caribou in Labrador and since he had more meat than he could eat, he decided to raise money for the Chamber by selling bowls of caribou stew and crackers for $3.50 each. Since it's illegal to sell game meat, a game warden and I told Casey that he had to stop selling caribou stew. Unfazed, Casey stepped out from the chuck wagon and with an eraser, changed the menu wording on the blackboard to read "FREE Caribou stew when purchased with crackers for $3.50." According to the game warden, Casey was no longer breaking the law.

4. Signage

Evelyn's Abbot Village Bakery sells the largest and freshest donuts in Maine, along with great pies, homemade baked beans and chicken potpies. These bakery comments are from YELP: "Ok, so ‘fresh and fantastic’ doesn't even come close to saying it all. Neither does my ‘review’ here. You have to get in there and give the place a try. If you don't, you're really missing out on the finer things in life!" And, "The little square apple pies are really scrumptious. The donuts are among the best I've ever had. I wanted to try the whoopie pies, but with donuts and pies... really? Oh, we got a fresh strawberry/rhubarb pie to enjoy after the chicken and vegetable potpie. These were all truly marvelous."

Bob's Variety Store and Irving Filling Station in Mercer has a large sign "Eat Here, Get Gas." Taped to Bob's cash register is a notice "Helen Waite is our credit manager, if you want credit go to Hell N Wait."

A barbershop in the Aroostook County town of Washburn has an outdoor sign "If You Want A Haircut Becoming To You, You Should Be Coming To Me." The barber also sells Micmac Indian baskets. A comic on the mirror shows two women chatting. One says, "I had to take my dog Rover to the veterinarian today because he bit my father-in-law." The second woman asks, "Does your dog need a rabies shot?" The first woman answers, "Oh no, I want the vet to sharpen Rover's teeth."

5. Maine's colorful history and colorful characters

In the early 1900s a small circus arrived in the upper Kennebec River Valley town of Bingham. The circus arrived via the Somerset Railroad, which linked Bingham by rail to the outside world in 1890. A tipsy old timer sipping on home brew sat on a peach box and watched a stiff legged animal exit a boxcar by walking gingerly down a metal-cleated plank. "That horse has a broken back," the old timer remarked to nobody in particular. "It ain't a horse," a kid on a bicycle said. "It's a camel." The tipsy man said, "Well, I'm sure glad he ain't my horse."

Shortly after the circus returned to Boston, the old timer asked a Maine game warden if a kangaroo escaped from the circus. The warden replied, "Not to my knowledge, why do you ask?" The old man replied, "Well, when I walked across the bridge over Austin Stream, there was a kangaroo sitting on the bank watching the world go by." The game warden walked across the bridge and discovered a reddish, long-legged lynx sitting on the bank.

In early April 1969, with three friends as passengers, I drove my parent's Jeepster to Wyman dam near Bingham to fish for brook trout. It was a cold, snowy day and with no fish biting, we headed home to Oakland. As we approached Main Street in Bingham, the local police officer in a Studebaker cruiser with a red flashing light pulled me over in front of Thompson's Restaurant. He walked up to my open window, looked inside and said, "OK boys, leave your vehicle here and come with me." I sat in the front seat of the Studebaker and my three friends crawled into the back seat. The officer drove south a few miles before turning east onto a dirt road with no houses in sight. I felt dread since my trip to Bingham was my first solo drive with a newly acquired driver's license. After 15 minutes of silence, I nervously asked the officer where he was taking us. He replied, "We're going over to my house. My wife has been nagging me for weeks to move our Home Clarion Wood Cookstove and I need four strong backs to move it." Mission accomplished, the officer's wife fed us soup and sandwiches before we were driven back to the Jeepster to resume our trip home.

6. Memorial Day parades in rural Maine towns

No one event captures the flavor of patriotism more than a Memorial Day parade in a small Maine town. That is certainly true in the town of Shirley, where I lived for several years. Each Memorial Day, about half of the 200 residents gather in front of the volunteer fire department to cheer the arrival of the Greenville High School band in yellow school buses. Since Shirley is too small to have a high school, Greenville lends its band, after the Greenville's parade is finished. Second fiddle is better than no fiddle, we reason. Most years the featured attraction is a 1938 Diamond T fire truck, washed, waxed and decked out with miniature U.S. flags.

It takes about 15 minutes for the band, the Veterans of Foreign Wars, Girl Scouts, Boy Scouts and town dignitaries to organize behind the fire truck. Ten minutes later the parade is over. Or so it seems. One year, while raking my lawn, I heard a neighbor yell, "Here they come again." I leaned on my rake to watch the band make a second pass through town, after executing a U-turn at the cemetery. On the return trip through town, Otis Gray, driver and proud owner of the antique fire truck, turned on the siren, which turned on the spectators. "Give another blast of the horn," someone yelled. Otis obliged. Later, Otis told me that he had forgotten to turn on the siren at the start of the parade "due to all the excitement."

Otis backed the Diamond T into a bay of the Shirley Volunteer Fire Department, signaling the end of the Memorial Day festivities. "You can't beat a parade," Otis beamed. No you cannot, I said under my breath, especially in rural Maine.

More From the Outdoors

• Reflections on a Maine Christmas 1960

• The incomparable raven: World's second smartest creature?

• A Midcoast miracle out of sight and almost out of this world

• Moose: monarchs of the Maine woods, but for how much longer?

• Inebriation in nature

• Are beavers a nuisance animal?

• One of world's most successful birds lives on our doorstep

• Maine's expensive war on coyotes harms other wildlife

• Surviving on a wing and a prayer

Ron Joseph is a retired Maine wildlife biologist. He was raised in Waterville, but now lives in Camden.