LISBON — Eugene Dackmine is a 91-year-old hunter who has a grip like Superman and sights a target with his 6-pound Browning .308 rifle with the speed and accuracy of a U.S. Marine sniper.

There is nothing tentative about Dackmine when it comes to stalking his prey, and hunting has never gotten old for the elderly Lewiston native, who refuses to give up his life’s passion for a comfortable recliner in front of a television set. Dackmine’s youthful appearance hides his nine-plus decades of good, clean living, and he doesn’t miss a thing, especially in the woods — especially with a gun. His sharp mind explains why he is successful at the trigger of a rifle that some men half his age might have trouble handling.

His jovial nature, worry-free attitude and kindness have added years to a productive life that has witnessed nearly a century of change.

“I don’t worry about nothing. If it is going to happen, it’s going to happen,” said Dackmine, whose cavalier manner has served him well. “When they say, ‘Gene, you can’t hunt anymore,’ put me in a box. That’s my life. I have a place at the cemetery.

“By the way, I had my physical two months ago. I told the doctor, ‘I said you might tell me not to go moose hunting, but I am going anyway.’  He said, ‘Gene, you can go anywhere you want to. You are in perfect health.'”

So what’s to keep Dackmine, who was born on Nov. 11, 1917, away from the great outdoors, anyway? Certainly not his health or age — or the weather — for that matter. Sitting out Maine’s bone-chilling winters in the warmth of Florida is no longer an option for Dackmine, either.

“But in the winter, I don’t go to Florida. I am happy here. I went to Florida,” Dackmine said. “When I first retired, we went every year. Florida to me is nothing. It’s flat. I came back.”

Since he’s been staying close to home, he spends his days in the cold and snow, hoping for a clean shot at a deer or a wild turkey. For the rest of November, he’ll be somewhere in the woods in Wales looking to drop a deer — or trap shooting at the Durham Rod & Gun Club.

When he’s not on the lookout for big game, you might find Dackmine watching a Patriots or Red Sox game.

“Tom Brady is my hero. I would love to meet him; I’d give him a hug,” Dackmine said. “I love the Red Sox, but I don’t like some of the things they do.”

Dackmine is not alone in his thinking when it comes to the Boston Red Sox.

Hunting big game

Last month, Dackmine headed north for the weekend with his party of four to scout for moose in West Forks, a plantation located in Somerset County. He had been on moose hunts before, but he never shot one in his long life. He had his bolt-action Browning ready for this occasion.

“Saturday, we saw five moose. Sunday, I think, we saw four,” Dackmine said. “So we had a pretty good idea where to go Monday (Oct. 12) morning. I come out of the woods. I was looking for the moose. He was running. I guess he wanted to cross the road.

“When he got down the bottom of the hill, about 100 yards, he stopped, then he turned around and kind of looked at me. That’s when I shot him. Just like this — bang! Beautiful, beautiful, right in the neck. I shot that (moose) without a tripod. I had my tripod with me, but I shot that moose without a tripod.

“I’ve been moose hunting before, but I was never the shooter. But this time, I was the shooter, and I got four witnesses. The butcher told me, ‘you got him high in the neck. You didn’t spoil any meat at all.’ I even ate the heart, and it is delicious.”

“He nailed it (moose) right away. He dropped it with one shot,” said Fernand LaPointe, 82, who was with Dackmine during the moose hunt. “He’s like a sharpshooter, anyway. He’s a helluva gun shooter. He has good eyes. He is almost an expert, I would say.”

Dackmine’s prize moose weighed around 700 pounds, and with all that meat, he was forced to purchase another freezer to store his tasty cargo. LaPointe and Dackmine loaded the moose on a trailer hooked to the back of a pick-up truck and drove off for their camp where LaPointe butchered the beast.

At the tagging station in Solon, regional wildlife biologist Jim Connolly was introduced to Dackmine, but was not surprised to see an elderly man bag such big game. Connolly has seen many venerable hunters shoot moose.

“I’d say he is taking care of himself. I am happy to see he is there and enjoying himself,” Connolly said. “I think he is typical of living a healthy lifestyle in Maine.”

But Dackmine was on a roll after shooting the moose. A week later, he outdid himself again, picking off a 12-pound turkey in Wales with his prized Italian-made Benelli 12-gauge shotgun.

After years of hunting, Dackmine’s knowledge of wildlife is almost encyclopedic. Dackmine, who now lives in Lisbon, went on to explain that the turkey he shot was was a jake (young bird), and that toms are males and jenny’s are young hens. Over the years, Dackmine has also taken down a coyote and reeled in a 6¾-pound salmon.

“He eats like a horse and sleeps like a baby, and he loves his sweets,” said Eva Croteau, Dackmine’s companion of 17 years. “I like to go with him (hunting) because I like to be outside. The way I look at it is it’s quality time for the both of us. He says, ‘she is my trigger woman.'”

Call of the wild

Dackmine was nine years old when his uncle, Eugene Mahieu, who was also his godfather, bought him a rifle and began taking him on hunting excursions. Dackmine was hooked and has become the quintessential Maine outdoorsman.

“I have a story on that. You want to hear it?” Dackmine asked. “My father was not a hunter. But my uncle and godfather didn’t have any children. My godfather was a hunter and fisherman. He more or less adopted me.

“So on my birthday, he gave me a nice .22 rifle — bolt action. Beautiful. I was the happiest boy in the world. When I got home, I was thrilled to show my gun off. My mother took it away from me. My godfather must have talked to his sister, which was my mother. I finally got my gun back with no bullets.

“But I put my gun in my bedroom, and boy, every night I would play with it. After a while, my uncle and godfather did take me hunting, and they gave me only one bullet at a time. Every time he went hunting and fishing, I was right there with him. I went everywhere with him.”

Not only can he tell the difference between a jake and tom and pick off a moose at 100 yards, Dackmine is also quite proficient with firearms. Whenever Dackmine allows a lucky visitor to view his eye-opening gun collection, he clears each gun before a guest gets to handle one of his cherished rifles. It’s that kind of caution and respect for safety that has made Dackmine an impressive hunter.

He’s the guy you want riding shotgun with you on the last stage out of Dodge City.

“He is just with it,” LaPointe said of Dackmine. “He is a lucky, lucky man to be in this kind of shape. He makes me ashamed of myself.”

Looking back

Dackmine, who was married for 50 years to his wife, Carmen, before she passed away, worked at the South Portland shipyard, building United States cargo ships for three years during World War II. Dackmine eventually had a son, Robert, and a daughter, Suzanne, who worked for the Lewiston Public Library for 43 years.

“They did draft me; I went,” said Dackmine, whose parents emigrated from Belgium to the U.S. before he was born. “The first thing I knew, they put us in the bus and sent us back. They never told me (why).”

After the war ended, Dackmine went on to become a division manager for Sears, Roebuck and Co. for the next 25 years.

“I have seen a lot changes in my life, but this is the best part of my life,” Dackmine said. “I had a beautiful retirement. Social Security don’t owe me a thing. I am having too much fun.

“The only thing I wish is that people would feel like I do at 92. That would be my legacy.”

That’s one tough legacy to live up to in an age of overindulgence.