for that matter , it was not the result of some deranged local hermit who lived in a forest shack somewhere in the vicinity of the bridge and ate venison when he could find it or his own stockpile of homemade maple syrup created from his great-grandfathers recipe which allowed for a bit of fermentation giving the syrup a little kick when applied to the buttermilk pancakes he would make from boxes of mix he stored in the shed next to the gallon upon gallon of red paint that he would secret out to the lakebridge every spring just after the thaw and repaint it and coat it to protect it from the upcoming years wear and weather .