In the Right Place: The Beginning of the End

It’s the beginning of the end of “the season,” the summer sailing season in Down East Maine. It’s a poignant time watching sailboats being pulled reluctantly from their beautiful element and seeing them suffer the indignities of being power-washed and pulled by an ungainly tractor over a dusty road.

Soon, they’ll be sentenced to months in a shadowy boat shed or – even worse – wrapped in plastic like wintering insects.

Yes, summer and its joys are disappearing fast. But, football has arrived and we’ll soon have autumn’s colors to help us forget about what it’s like to harmonize with wind and water. (Images taken at the WoodenBoat School in Brooklin, Maine, on September 14 and 15, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Drought Report

Water levels in our ponds continue to be well below normal, although it may be difficult to see the problem from this image taken yesterday:

On the other hand, it’s easy to see that our small streams continue to suffer from abnormal dryness:

Today’s U.S. Drought Monitor shows a slight improvement in Maine’s dry conditions for the week ending September 13, but our conditions remain far worse than three months ago. The Monitor reports that 45.65 percent of the State remains abnormally dry or worse:

The Monitor also reports that average temperatures in the northeast climate region were above normal during the summer months, with August 2022 being the fourth warmest on record in our region. (Photographs taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 14, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Fog-In/Sun-Out Sail-In

The Annual Wooden Boat Sail-In took place yesterday within waves of fog pouring into Great Cove from Eggemoggin Reach, not to mention occasional rain and often-dying winds. As far as I can tell, nine classic Maine coastal cruisers sailed in, although four of them arrived in total fog and I only discovered them early this sunny morning. I’ll show each of the windjammer visitors from yesterday and end with a few images from today.

Here we see Victory Chimes, the queen of the windjammer fleet. She’s a 170-foot long, three-masted schooner that was built in 1900. She now hails from Rockland, Maine, and reportedly is for sale.

Angelique’s red sails stood out in the fog and rain. She’s a 130-foot long ketch that was built in 1980. and now hails from Camden, Maine,

The Stephen Taber didn’t stop when she got into the Cove; she sallied here and there with considerable exuberance. She’s a 110-foot long schooner that was built in 1871. and now hails from Rockland, Maine,

The Lewis R. French came into the Cove from the south followed by a boat of photographers from the WoodenBoat School marine photography class. She’s a 101-foot long schooner that also was built in 1871 and now hails from Camden, Maine,

Ladona (usually pronounced “lah DOE nah’), with her white hull and white sails, sometimes disappeared in the fog. She’s a 108-foot long schooner that was built in 1922. and now hails from Rockland, Maine,

During one break in the fog and very light rain, we could see the five windjammers that arrived before we got totally socked-in. From the left, you’ll see the Lewis R. French lowering sails, Angelique with her red sails down, the Stephen Taber still sallying around, two small boats of observers, the Victory Chimes showing her size, and Ladona coming in under full sail.

Today — the “day after” — the sun rose on a calm Great Cove and sleeping passengers who apparently partied in last night’s fog and rain.

The Mary Day was close enough to photograph. She’s a 125-foot long schooner that was built in 1962 and now hails from Camden, Maine,

I could see the yellow-hulled Heritage from our deck as the rising sun found her. She’s a 145-foot long schooner that was built in 1983. and now hails from Rockport, Maine, I also was very fortunate to catch her, Angelique and Victory Chimes with sails up, heading south in the morning.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 13 and 14, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Caught in the Act

Here you see a peeping Tom caught looking into our window on Saturday, apparently expecting to see something exciting going on over the weekend.

Well, he was greatly disappointed in that regard and soon flew off, leaving me wondering what this bug-eyed visitor was.

Maybe one of you lepidopterists out there can identify this dainty intruder for us. Its feathered antennae indicate to me that it’s a moth, which would narrow the choice down nicely to only about 165,000 species worldwide. (There are many more moths than butterflies.)

Its body length appeared to be less than half an inch and its wingspan from the tip of one wing to the other appeared to be no more than an inch, which makes it a small moth by my standards.

Its underside/ventral color was an off-white, while its upper/dorsal side was more of a tan. There appeared to be a single, faint, circular marking on each forewing, but these may have been random markings. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 10, 2022.)

In the Right Place: The Big Apple

The fruit on many of our “wild” apple trees seems to be maturing faster than usual this year, perhaps because of the drought.

The two apples from two trees that I tasted were gag-grade tart/sour. I haven’t seen any deer eating the apples yet, but that’s probably because many grasses remain succulent and better tasting.

As you know from reading these posts, our wild apple trees actually are mostly abandoned trees that were planted by settlors and subsequent residents, who made food products, brandy, and cider out of the apples. Now, many of the trees are surrounded by undergrowth, which makes it difficult for humans (and sometimes even deer) to get near them.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 8 [tree] and 9 [individual apples], 2022.)

In the Right Place: Fall Colors

Here we see Conary Cove at slack tide yesterday, showing fall colors of a maritime kind.

(Images taken in Blue Hill, Maine, on September 10, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Weather Berries

Our American Mountain Ash Trees (Sorbus americana) are now bursting with their outrageous orange berries. These trees are the subjects of considerable mystery and folklore. For example, no one seems to know why they’re called ash trees. They’re not ashes, they’re members the rose family.

They’re also called Rowan Trees here because our settlers from the British Isles mistakenly thought that they were the same as European Rowan Trees (Sorbus aucuparia). The Celts (and some of America’s colonists) thought Rowan trees warded off witches and had other magical properties. Across our northern border in Canada, American Mountain Ash Trees also are known as Dogberry Trees and their berries are used to make popular Dogberry Jam there.

But, it’s an Ojibwa Tribe legend about the trees that gives us pause, as we look at the multitudes of orange orbs hanging from them now. The legend is that, if there are many Mountain Ash berries in late summer and fall, the winter is sure to be very harsh. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 7, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Bon Voyage to Our Brave Summer Residents

This image of an osprey appeared yesterday in my monthly column in the Ellsworth American. Click on the image to enlarge it.

To read the column, which has interesting facts about the osprey migration, click here: http://www.5backroad.com/montly-column

In the Right Place: Warts and All

Here is that master of disguise, the eastern American toad (Anaxyrus americanus americanus). You can see why toad skin patterns are used as models for camouflage. (There even is a hunting clothes company named Toadbak, Inc., that promotes toad-patterned clothes to deer and wild turkey hunters.)

Toads change their skin colors when under stress from a predator as well as when they move from habitat to habitat and when temperature or humidity changes. However, when a small predator, such as a garter snake, zeroes in on a toad, the toad also often will puff itself up dramatically to appear to be too large to swallow.

If that doesn’t work and the predator sniffs or grabs the toad, the amphibian will exude from its parotoid glands a toxic substance (bufotoxin) meant to signal that the toad is not palatable. (It also may emphasize that point by defecating profusely.) That works on some animals, but not all garter snakes.

Which brings us to a warning: Bufotoxin is not lethal to humans, but it can irritate our eyes and mucous membranes significantly; wash your hands after handling a toad and don’t touch your face before you do so. It’s a good practice not to let children pick up toads if you don’t have the ability to wash their hands immediately afterward.

The toxin can be harmful to cats, dogs, and other smaller animals, so don’t let your pet “play” with toads. Nonetheless, contrary to some legends, touching toads will not cause warts to grow on you, your child, or your pet. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 6, 2022.)

In the Right Place: More Bad News

The situation faced by our lobster fishermen (men and women) appears to continue to worsen. Here and below, you see some of our fleet laying idle yesterday.

Lobstermen have been deciding that fishing six days a week for fewer and fewer low-priced lobsters isn’t worth the high-priced costs of fuel, bait, and maintenance. Some lobster fishermen even have hauled out their traps and ended their season four months early.

One veteran fishman, who prefers to remain anonymous, describes the dilemma concisely: “[The] catch is dropping off weekly and the [low] price remains the same. It's the worst season I've ever had. I've been doing it for 31 years and [this] is the first time that I don't have my bills paid going into the winter.” (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 6, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Osprey Nest Report

The final, perhaps tragic, chapter of this summer story continues to unfold. Here you see June. As you know, she’s the last and smallest of Ozzie and Harriet’s fledglings. She’s being soaked by yesterday’s heavy rain, alone on the open family nest while other ospreys are sheltering within the protective branches of big conifers.

As usual, June regularly begged for food yesterday. Ozzie didn’t come during the 30 minutes that I was watching, but he likely delivered lunch soon thereafter. He has done so routinely this year.

I don’t think that Ozzie and June’s two siblings, David and Ricky, have migrated yet. We keep seeing three ospreys fishing over Great Cove, not far from the nest. I believe that those birds are Ozzie showing David and Ricky how to plunge-dive for fish. My last such sighting was Saturday, September 3.

Harriet apparently has migrated south already, which is usual for a female osprey parent – they usually depart and leave the male parent to take over the feeding and education of the young until migration lift off time.

June is large, full-feathered, and can fly well, but she seems to be mentally retarded. If she can’t fish, she’ll likely starve; Ozzie probably will not cancel his migration flight to feed her indefinitely.

An attempt at capturing June for an intervention would seem to be very difficult due to the 90-foot height of the nest and her shyness; she flies away at the sight of any human or dog within 400 feet. I park my car beyond that point and “shoot” through the window. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 5, 2022.)

In the Right Place: And, In the Right Mood

In Paris, couples go to cafés at dusk not only to enjoy each other, but to feel and become a part of the enjoyment of those near them. The Brooklin Inn has this porch that can be as satisfying in that way as any Parisian café, if you’re with the right person and in the right mood.

Soon after this image was taken, a younger couple sat at that table. They leaned into each other’s sun halos, talked softly, and smiled often. (Image taken with an iPhone in Brooklin, Maine, on September 2, 2022.) Click on image to enlarge it.

In the Right Place: Enigmatic

Here you see Little Bear, the enigmatic North Sea fishing-trawler-look-alike that hails from Rockport, Maine. She’s been visiting in Great Cove again and was moored yesterday where we could get a good look at her.

In reply to my July post on Little Bear, Pete Radclyffe suggested that she might be one of the famed Inchcape luxury trawler yachts. She certainly looks like one, but I’ve been unable to confirm that she’s an Inchcape

Nonetheless, there is a report that Little Bear was built in Scotland in 1964. That would be consistent with where and when those Jack Evans-designed Inchcape sea yachts were being built by the historic Eyemouth Boatbuilding Company in Berwickshire.

Inchcape (aka Bell Rock) is a reef and lighthouse about a dozen miles off the east coast of Angus, Scotland, near Dundee and Fife. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 3, 2022.)

In The Right Place: Hip Hopping

Wild rose hips, the popular fruit of roses, are starting to get to the edible stage now, although connoisseurs say that it’s best to wait until after the first light frost to pick them. (The frost apparently breaks down their cellular walls somewhat and makes the fruit sweeter.)

Above, you see the hips of the climbing multiflora rose (Rosa multiflora). Below, you’ll see the larger, less hairy fruit of the beach rose bush (rugosa rose, Rose rugosa).:

The word “hip” reportedly is derived from the Old English word “hiope,” meaning “seed vessel of wild roses.” Rose hips, which are rich in vitamin C, are deseeded and used in a variety of foods, especially teas, jams, jellies, and sauces. Native Americans also used them as medicine, including as a contraction inducer to hasten delivery of women in labor. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 2, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Regalia

September made her grand entrance yesterday in magnificent fall regalia: a cloud-studded cape of burnished gold and azure blue.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 1, 2022.)

August Postcards From Maine

August is high summer in Maine, the Nation’s self-appointed “Vacationland.” This year, it often was a time of stampeding clouds in blue skies over fall-colored landscapes and waters that reflected the days’ moods.

That’s not to say that there was no foul weather. However, there wasn’t much and it wasn’t enough to relieve the abnormally dry state of our fields, streams, and woods.

Nonetheless, the shaded light in the August woods sometimes was exquisite, especially when it found a hidden masterpiece.

Some fruits started appearing or ripening in August. The apples on the ancient “wild” apple trees got to an edible size for those who like very tart fruit. For those who like their fruit sweet and tangy, ripe wild blackberries first appeared in August.

The viburnum berries and highbush cranberries were plentiful and the rose hips on beach rose plants were just getting large enough to pick.

August wild flowers tend to be subdued, with many whites, yellows, and pastel colors. Below, you’ll see this month’s white Queen Anne’s lace with a few yellow tansy sprinkled in; a bluish aster; a white fragrant water lily; pinkish Joe Pye weed; goldenrod, and white daisy fleabane.

In the August gardens, things got more dramatic. Below, you’ll see a pink Japanese anemone, a yellow zinnia, and a red coleus.

As for wildlife, our beautiful (but too plentiful) resident white-tailed deer are always worthy of an August Postcard From Maine.

However, the creatures of major interest this month were some of those that will be migrating south soon or dying off. One is the youngest of three osprey fledglings that was born in June, but seemingly couldn’t fish in August, as her siblings were. She spent much of her time in the family’s otherwise empty nest loudly begging for food until her father came by and dropped a fish at her feet. What she’ll do when daddy migrates south in September is a chilling question.

Speaking of troubles, August was a good month to see monarch butterflies, a threatened species. They began the month as caterpillars and some of them started their migration to Mexico in mid-August.

The eastern black swallowtail butterflies also were quite active in August, but they will not survive the year. Their next generation of caterpillars will create chrysalises in which they’ll overwinter.

On the working waterfront, August was a mean month for our lobster fishermen (male and female). Low distributor prices combined with inflationary costs of operation drove many fishermen to reduce their operations significantly.

Some veteran fishermen quit the season altogether and brought their traps in for storage until next year. (Their season usually extends into December.)

On the other hand, August was a great month for sailing this year. The large windjammers that take tourists on multi-day cruises along the coast seemed especially active.

Angelique

Heritage

J&E Riggin

American Eagle

Victory Chimes

August’s winds often provided thrilling rides for sailors in smaller craft. Seeing them cut through the water on a fine summer’s day is an iconic August sight here.

August also was a time for reflection by Fiona, the catboat, and Ned Ludd, the Caledonia yawl:

Finally, there were times of excited expectation, including when the sun went down on the day before the Annual Eggemoggin Reach Regatta, which always occurs on the first weekend of August:

(All images in these Postcards were taken in Down East Maine during August 2022.)

In the Right Place: Osprey Nest Report

Here you see June yesterday; she’s the youngest and smallest of Ozzie and Harriet’s three fledglings.

She’s alone in the family nest, as usual; she’s loudly begging for food, as usual, and, the tantrum worked, as usual. Ozzie appeared out of nowhere with a fish, she wiggled her tail and screamed like a young hatchling, and Ozzie dropped the fish beside her:

As we have been reporting, this is troubling activity; there is something wrong. June should be learning to fish, as her siblings (David and Ricky) are doing. Ozzie and Harriet always have migrated in mid- to late-September. June will be in significant danger if she doesn’t learn to fish for herself before then. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on August 30, 2022.)

In the Right Place: An Idea for Down Easterners

This is Asticou Pond on Sunday afternoon; it’s a focal point for the famous Asticou Azalea Garden on Mount Desert Island. The Garden is at its most tranquil in late August and early September. Now is the time, for those so inclined, to seek peace there by immersing quietly into the Garden’ while its beauty rests.

This period of late summer calm is entirely different from the Garden’s colorful energy in the spring, when seemingly millions of azalea and other rhododendron blooms compete to see which can out-dazzle which. This late-summer time of year also is not like the poignant fall, when the glowing foliage in the Garden makes us finally realize that our love affair with summer is over.

Now, there are only a few plants in bloom in the Garden, just enough to remind us that summer is leaving with a smile. The Japanese anemones seem to say goodbye best:

But the fragrant water lilies that are rampant in the Garden’s Lily Pond are a close second:

So, if you are within range, think about visiting the Garden now as well as in the fall. It will be open seven days a week through October 30 from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. No reservations are needed and no fee is charged, although a contribution of $5.00 per person is asked of those who can afford it.

(Images taken in Northeast Harbor, Maine, on August 28,2022.)

In the Right Place: Websites

I was lucky to spot this nearly perfect orb web because the sun was behind it yesterday. The web was virtually invisible from the other side.

The bad news is that I couldn’t find the orbweaving spider – the Frank (Frances?) Lloyd Wright – that created this masterpiece. I spent half an hour looking in vain at the strands of that web with my glasses on and mosquitoes humming in my ear. The object in the center apparently is wrapped in cobweb silk.

I went back to the website (sic) this morning with some magnifying equipment and found that the beautiful web was a shambles – but, by hanging my handkerchief behind the remainder of the web, I found a small spider-like creature hanging on one of the remaining web anchors:

I haven’t been able to identify that creature; perhaps you can help. It’s about 1/8 inch in size, maybe smaller. The original circular web was about 8 inches in diameter and hung between two trees on the bank of a dry stream bed within fairly heavy mixed woods. The center of the original web was about four feet above the ground. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on August 28 and 29, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Sad Scene

These are troubling times here. Many lobster fishermen (male and female) are severely limiting the number of days that they go out to fish and some have decided to pull all of their traps and forget about lobster fishing for the rest of this year. Traditionally, the lobster season is ended in December for most fishermen here.

Here you see the lobster traps from the Brooklin Fishing Vessel “Blue Sky” being landed yesterday in Naskeag Harbor. The vessel’s owners, John and Sandy White of Brooklin, have decided to end their season entirely and have pulled all of their traps; they’re storing them on their property until next June.

The low lobster prices being offered by distributors this year have been so out of whack compared to the costs of fishing and maintenance that many find that it’s simply not worth daily fishing trips and, for some, not worth going out at all anymore.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on August 27, 2022.)