In the Right Place: Osprey Nest Report 2

Here you see Harriet and Ozzie looking left and right to see if the coast is clear. It appeared clear to them and they copulated a few minutes after this image was taken.

Then, Ozzie left to go fishing. (No comments about male traits, please.) Actually, based on past years, this is a time when Harriet likely will be spending much time in the nest, perhaps rearranging it, and Ozzie will be bringing her fish offerings and helping her to repair parts of the nest that deteriorated over the winter.

Based on what I’ve seen, ospreys usually restore their nests and copulate in April, lay their eggs in May, and hatch their red-eyed chicks in June. July is a hectic month of feeding the voracious youngsters, which will become about the size of their parents by August. The family will go their separate ways in August or September to spend the winter in tropical climes. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 21, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Colorful Heights

Here you see Blue Hill across Blue Hill Bay in the Maine Town of Blue Hill, all of which were named in 1778 by European settlers of Plantation No. 5:

The actual Hill, which can appear blue in certain light, is a virtual mountain at 940 feet tall, just 60 feet short of what geologists originally considered a proper minimum height for a mountain.

Below you’ll see what European settlers called Green Mountain on Maine’s Mount Desert Island, a name the mountain kept until 1918. It then was named Cadillac Mountain to honor the French nobleman who originally was gifted the land by the governor of New France in 1688.

In 1919, Lafayette National Park was established on that land, an area that was renamed Acadia National Park in 1929. Cadillac Mountain is 1530 feet tall, the tallest mountain on the Eastern Seaboard. (Images taken in Blue Hill and from Brooklin, Maine, on April 20 and 21, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Tropics Topics

Here we have the “eastern” or “yellow” subspecies of the palm warbler (Setophaga palmarum), all fluffed up against the chill of our spring morning.

These birds often are our earliest-arriving wood warblers. They’re described as “unmistakably humble” in a Forbush treatise report because they spend a lot of time on the ground acting like  sparrows. They also are “wagtails,” birds that wag their tails as much as a puppies.

Although inappropriately named after a tropical tree, palm warblers are among our most northerly woods warblers. They breed in forested bogs and fens in Canada and our northernmost states; they also often build their nests into ground moss clumps and not in trees. (Palm warblers apparently were misnamed by famed German naturalist Johann Friedrich Gmelin [1748-1804] based on a specimen that someone collected on the Caribbean island of Hispaniola, where the bird was only wintering and not a fulltime resident as thought.)

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 19, 2023.) See also the image in the first Comment space. Thanks to Kim Ridley for the bird identification help.

In the Right Place: Exposure, Decent and Indecent

The leaves of the eastern skunk cabbage plants (Symplocarpus foetidus) here are starting to swirl up and some already are beginning to fan out.

They soon will be large, magnificent green plumes that most animals will leave alone because of the leaves’ oxalate content, which can cause severe mouth-burning pain. Nonetheless, black bears and snapping turtles have been observed eating the plant’s leaves soon after the animals came out of their hibernation. (It’s thought by some researchers that the bears eat the noxious leaves for the projectile laxative effect they have on months of bear bowel buildup.)

We wonder whether a bear or snapper did the damage shown in this image:

You see there the exposed “spadix” (flowerhead) of a skunk cabbage amidst its destroyed “spathe” (pixie-hatted protective enclosure for the spadix). That indecent exposure at least allows us to see the plant’s flowerhead, which usually is mostly hidden inside the spathe. It also may save pollinators some time and trouble, if the spadix survives exposure. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 19, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Family Viewing

Yesterday morning was foggy and drizzly, but I checked my favorite osprey nest, as I have been doing unsuccessfully for about 10 days. And – lo and behold – success! Harriet, albeit a wet mess, was on the nest and chivalrous Ozzie flew by with a headless fish for her breakfast. (Ozzie usually eats the heads off his love gifts before delivering them.) As the weather gets better, so will the photographs; these birds can be spectacular in a clear, blue sky.

I’ve been photographing and posting reports on the spring and summer activities in this nest for about six years. There are certain established story lines: The male osprey of the family always is named Ozzie, the female is Harriet, the first born is David, the second born is Ricky, and the third born is June (named after the month of her birth). Yes, except for June, those are the names of family members in “The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet,” the ‘60s TV sitcom. The sexes of the offspring, of course, are assumed.

Historical note: There have been two years in which four eggs have hatched successfully in the nest, but each of those smaller fourth-borns never reached maturity due mainly to bullying and food stealing by one or more of their siblings. We’re talking about ravenous little predators here who are expected to grow up in several months, learn to hunt for themselves, and migrate thousands of miles in the fall.

Adult ospreys generally are monogamous during the spring and summer and the pairs often return to each other at the same breeding nest each year from the different southern locations where they spent their winters. As far as I can tell, Ozzie has been the same bird since the beginning of my studies, but Harriet has been different once or twice. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 18, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Now Hiring Ark Builders

We’ve had an extraordinary amount of rain this year, especially lately. Our wooded streams are unusually wide and fast for this time of year. And, since the leaves have not come in yet¸ it’s easier to get good views of the surging streams through the trees. Here, you’ll see Patten Stream overrunning its banks and racing through the still-wintry-looking woods toward the falls at its mouth in Patten Bay.

As for the weather, during the past 12-month period, precipitation was above normal in Maine, New Hampshire, New York, Vermont, and West Virginia, according to the U.S. Drought Monitor. Most unusually, Maine is reported as having been the wettest of those states; we’re undergoing our 13th wettest April-March period on record – an amazing +7.81-inch anomaly. (Images taken in Surry, Maine, on April 14, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Dimensions

Here you see a local vernal pool becoming surrealistic in Thursday’s sunlight. This image can give you an idea of the wonderfully rich textures of the pool’s watery reflections and lacework of now-bare branches, which seem to create the pool’s own, mysterious dimension.

However, no one can appreciate (or maybe even imagine) the experience of actually being at this vernal pool by looking at a photograph.

To “know” this pool, I think that you not only need to see it, but at the same time you need to smell its earthy-resinous scent and hear the harsh creaking of hundreds of the pool’s little wood frog residents (Lithobates sylvaticus). That amphibious chorus alone is unique; it sounds like a wagon train of axles that are in serious need of lubrication.

By the way, that loud frog fugue turns to total and profound (if not creepy) silence when you get within 20 feet of the pool, where you’ll sense (but not see) all those beady eyes focusing fearfully on you. Here’s another view:

As you probably know, “vernal” (i.e., “spring”) pools are shallow, usually woodland depressions that often contain water only seasonally. Among other things, they’re essential breeding grounds for certain wildlife that, in turn, are important foods for other wildlife.

In Maine, species that must have access to vernal pools in order to survive and reproduce include wood frogs, spotted and blue-spotted salamanders, and fairy shrimp, according to State wildlife officials. Avoiding impacts to significant vernal pools and their surrounding habitat is important because many amphibian species must return to the pool in which they were born to breed; they are “pool-specific” species.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 13, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Wart’s Up?

Toads are out and about; be careful where you step. You can see from this eastern American toad (Anaxyrus americanus americanus) why toad skin patterns are used as models for hunting and military camouflage. I probably wouldn’t have seen her Friday if she didn’t have a gleam in her eye ring.

Toads change their skin colors when under stress, 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 parotid glands a nasty substance (bufotoxin) meant to signal that the toad is not palatable. (It also may emphasize that point by defecating dramatically.) That works on some predators, but not all. 

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 April 14, 2023.)

In the Right Place: The Odd Couples

The images below of male and female red-winged blackbirds appeared Thursday in my monthly column in the Ellsworth American.

To read the column about the odd relationships that “redwings” are now having in a marshland near you, click on this: http://www.5backroad.com/montly-column

In the Right Place: Transformations

Perhaps it’s fitting for these troubling times that a plant that was used unsuccessfully to treat the bubonic plague in the Middle Ages is now flowering and providing life-saving nectar to our earliest insects.

The plant, shown here, is Japanese sweet coltsfoot (Petasites japonicus). It apparently was introduced into North America in the 19th Century by Japanese immigrants who landed in Canada’s British Columbia. It has a sweeter scent than other coltsfoot plants, including Maine’s native sweet coltsfoot (Petasites palmatus).

The Japanese version goes through an enormous transformation in which the little two-inch flower clusters shown here disappear and are replaced by sturdy stems of about three feet in length. The leaves at the ends of those stems can grow up to four feet in width and are shaped like a colt’s hoofprint, hence the plant’s name. See the large leaves on this same plant as it was last September:

The leaves also are the source for one of this plant’s alternative common names: Japanese Butterbur. In days of yore before refrigeration, those leaves were used to wrap butter for storage in cool places. Another common American name for this plant is bog rhubarb. Beware, however, that the plant is very invasive. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 11, 2023, and September 16, 2022)

In the Right Place: Lanes Less Travelled By

One of the intriguing secrets of Maine is its country lane system. A dirt or gravel-topped opening off of a public road may be a driveway to a single unseen house or it may be a private “lane” that is owned collectively by several residents who live in houses that are well-hidden in the woods.

Often, as shown here, a lane can provide its owners with a beautiful ending to their rides home, one that winds gracefully through sun-dappled (or snow-dappled) woods.

Tourists speeding along the intersecting public road have no idea what they’re missing. Which may be one of the reasons for having private lanes. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 10, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Air Apparent

I watched a couple of children at gusty Naskeag Point yesterday enjoying an ancient art and learning something about the mysteries of flight. Perhaps kite-flying was the original online entertainment.

It made me wonder about who invented the kite, which led to a little (of course) online research. As I now understand, no one really knows for sure who invented the kite. Most scholars think that it was invented in China, but there is evidence of very early use of kites to fish in inaccessible places in the South Pacific and Indonesia.

There does seem to be agreement as to the first written account about kite-flying, which was in 200 BC and was inauspicious. It described a Chinese general flying a kite over a city that he was attacking; he was using the kite’s line to measure how far his army would have to tunnel under enemy defenses. Kites were used in many more benign research projects since, including our own Ben Franklin’s electrifying efforts. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 10, 2023.)

In the Right Place: All in the Family

The male flowers (“catkins”) of the speckled alders (Alnus incana) are now hanging like dormant insects in their dense shrubs.

These catkins soon will be releasing streams of pollen to smother the smaller female catkins that conveniently grow on the same shrub. Thus, the plant can self-pollinate as a “monoecious” species.

Unfortunately, the shrub’s profuse pollen clouds also can torment human allergy sufferers and its propensity to propagate in dense clusters can be a nuisance on pastures and other areas intended for clearways. However, the plant prefers wetlands. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 6 and 7, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Of Emergence, Exodus, and Easter

Below you’ll see maple tree buds emerging in the light of yesterday morning’s (2:18 a.m.) virtually-full moon. That spring moon was at its fullest on April 6, but clouds obscured it until last night.

The April full moon traditionally is known in North America as the “pink full moon” due to its arrival near the time that flowers and trees begin to bloom, especially pink creeping phlox (Phlox subulate), a wildflower native to eastern North America.

However, this year, the April full moon is special: It is a “Paschal full moon.” “Paschal,” pronounced “PA-skl,” means “of or pertaining to Passover or Easter.” This moon arrived during Passover, the Jewish celebration of liberation and exodus, and its appearance determined that today would be Easter, the Christian celebration of resurrection and ascendance.

As you may know, Easter occurs on the first Sunday after the full moon that rises on or after the northern spring (vernal) equinox. (However, if that full moon rises on a Sunday, Easter will occur the following Sunday.) Passover also typically begins on the night of the full moon after the spring equinox (unless leap months change that time). (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 8, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Early Spring

Other than the yet-to-come green leaves and field grasses, yesterday morning had everything you’d want in an early spring day: temperatures somewhere between chill and thrill; sky big and blue; fluffy clouds slowly parading by,  and the sea breeze mingling with that nostril-flaring scent of damp earth drying in a bright sun.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 7, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Fashion Department

Here we apparently have an adult Herring Gull in breeding plumage. Dressing for success with the opposite sex seems to be nature’s usual way.

Below, we apparently have an immature Herring Gull that probably is just immerging from its first winter. Designing baby clothes so as not to attract attention also seems to be nature’s usual way.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 5, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Delicate

It’s raining again this morning. April showers may bring May flowers, but they also can create wheel-sucking mud and potholes in the many narrow dirt roads that we have in the back areas of Maine.

Frugal Mainers know that the perfect device for giving those roads the delicate maintenance that they need in the spring is an old, towed grader such as the one shown here working on Tuesday:

They can be towed by a truck, tractor, or even horses if necessary. This one was towed by a truck:

But, the grader operator needs to have excellent eye-hand coordination to steer while adjusting the height and angle of the blade. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on March 21 [back view] and April 4 [side view], 2023.)

In the Right Place: Yellow Hello

This unusual all-yellow colony of eastern skunk cabbage spathes that we reported on last month has not (yet?) changed colors or become mottled. As you probably know, these pixie-hatted spathes contain the flowers that allow the plants to propagate.

I haven’t been able to find a reliable explanation of how the color yellow could dominate all others that usually are found on the plants’ spathes. Perhaps the reason is not only biological, but also meteorological due to effects climate change. I’ll keep monitoring these unusual plants to see if they change color or their leaves are different from the norm. Scientific explanations are invited.

Prior to this year, I had only seen eastern skunk cabbage (Symplocarpus foetidus) spathes that were a deep red/purple color or mottled in various colors. In fact, those are the colors of all of the spathes near the yellow ones:

Western skunk cabbage (Lysichiton americanus) has all-yellow spathes, but that is a distinctly different species. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 3 [yellow] and 4 [red, mottled], 2023.)

In the Right Place: High Hopes

Yesterday, I watched this male wood duck apparently trying to court what appear to be larger female mallard ducks:

A little research revealed that ambitious wood ducks sometimes are successful in mating with larger mallards, but their hybrid offspring often are infertile.

For some reason (probably senility), this dapper little wood duck brought to my old mind the optimistic song “High Hopes,” especially the Grammy- and Oscar-winning child’s chorus version by Frank Sinatra. In it, an ant moves a “rubber tree plant” and a ram butts a hole in a “billion-kilowatt dam” because they had “high, apple pie in the sky hopes.” (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 3, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Wind and Whitewater

Our April Fool’s Day rains created tumultuous stream flows, including this one in Patten Stream yesterday:

That powerful whitewater, combined with yesterday’s high winds, resulted in some damage to the fyke nets closest to the mouth of the Stream; others seemed unaffected:

As viewers of these posts know, the nets are set to catch migrating baby American eels (also known as elvers or glass eels) that are seeking to swim upstream after a long trip apparently from the Saragossa Sea. (Images taken in Surry, Maine, on April 2, 2023.)