[stumpstalker]

For me, hunting in the North Maine Woods, the feeling has been experienced when happening upon derelict logging equipment, once so economically useful, now superseded.

It gives rise to an engaging sense of nostalgia, not without that pang of mortality.

The most memorable equipment find for me out there was the smallest. It was an upright galvanized pail, it's bottom now rusted out so badly that a forty-foot tree was randomly growing straight and healthily up through it.