In the Right Place: Old and New

Here you see passengers of the schooner “Heritage” returning to her on Wednesday morning after touring the WoodenBoat School campus. She still has her tarps up from overnighting in Great Cove.

She soon had had her tarps stowed and her sails and anchor up. She sailed north into the wind, half in sunlight and half in the shadow of her own big sails, backlighted modestly to those of us stuck on shore:

The “Heritage” hails from Rockland, Maine, and is one of our largest schooners; she’s 145 feet long counting bowsprit with a 24-foot beam (widest part). Despite her name, she’s advertised as our “newest” coastal cruiser, having been built in 1983 for the tourist trade.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 6, 2023.)

In the Right Place: T-Time

At least 20 Ford Model Ts were displayed yesterday at the WoodenBoat School. It was part of a show by the Down East Chapter of the Model T Ford Club of America, one of the largest chapters in the country.

The Model T was sold by the Ford Motor Company from 1908 to 1927, and was the earliest effort to make an automobile that most people in the rising middle class could afford. It revolutionized human culture, among other effects.

Why was it called the “Model T?” The answer is as straight-forward as Henry Ford and his methods: The first design of what was to be an affordable car was Model “A.”  By the twentieth design, Model T, the creators got what they hoped for.

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

In the Right Place: A Dignified Lady

The dignified schooner “Grace Bailey” slipped into Great Cove for several hours yesterday.

She was launched in 1882 and now is out of Camden, Maine. She’s 118’ long with a nice broad beam:

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 6, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Keeping Our Cool

Many of us consider summer to be over after Labor Day, but yesterday was so hot, humid, and hazy that it belonged in mid-August. It reached at least 86 degrees (F) here on the Brooklin peninsular and in nearby Blue Hill, according to the weather tellers. Today is supposed to be hotter. I suppose that we’re “Indian summer.”

The term “Indian Summer” is now recognized as an unseasonably warm, calm period of weather that occurs during autumn or winter. The origins of the phrase go at least back to early America, where a French visitor to Mohawk territory wrote this in January of 1778: “Sometimes, the rain is followed by an interval of calm and warm which is called the Indian summer.” Several researchers have speculated that he was referring to a period of unusually warm weather that allowed Native Americans to resume summer-like hunting in the fall or winter months.

Returning to the here and now, at least some of the scenery remained cool yesterday, including the almost-mountain Blue Hill rising above Blue Hill Bay, as you see above. (Image taken in Blue Hill on September 5, 2023.)

In the Right Place: An Ancient Art Used Today

Here you see a neighbor performing the ancient art of “sculling” off the back of a nutshell pram through the byways of a large lily pond on Sunday:

(Technically, he’s performing “one-oar sculling,” since “sculling” is a synonym for “rowing” and a “scull” is an oar; but, most people seem to call such one-oar propulsion “sculling” and call propulsion with two or more oars over the boat sides “rowing.”)

Sculling with a single oar off the transom (back end) of a boat involves propelling a vessel with a figure 8 or "falling leaf" motion. A proficient sculler, such as the one here, can maneuver boats intricately, bring them to a stop, and even scull them backwards. It’s a very good way to propel a boat in a delicate environment, if you know what you’re doing.

To preempt questions from sharp-eyed Brooklinites: “Yes,” that’s Jon Wilson, founder of WoodenBoat, and “Yes,” he’s in the WoodenBoat pond, where he has been trying to use humane diversions to thwart a family of energetic beavers. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 3, 2023, and published with permission.)

In the Right Place: Bear Sighting

This is Little Bear revisiting Great Cove yesterday. She’s a replica of a North Sea fishing trawler with ketch-rigged sails for stability, according to reports on her.

She’s quite different from the Maine vessel also designed for fishing that’s moored near her, a Friendship sloop named Belford Gray:

Research indicates that Little Bear was built in Scotland in 1964 and named after Ursa Minor (Latin for “lesser bear”), the northern sky constellation. She reportedly was built as a recreational vessel for a professor of classical arts at Cambridge University. That is, below deck she’s fitted for cozy human comfort, not oily, slithering fish. The last time that we checked, her home port was Rockport, Maine.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 2, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Monarch Mystery Theatre

Something strange seems to be going on. As of yesterday, our little butterfly bushes had monarch caterpillars on them, including the one shown here; the bushes have hosted monarch cats all summer. Yet, I’ve seen no monarch chrysalises here or in my favorite spots all summer.

AND, in general, I’ve seen relatively few butterflies, especially monarchs and swallowtails. I saw the female monarch shown below on Friday, and it was the first one I had seen in eight days. I have yet to see a swallowtail (tiger or black).

I wonder if it’s the above average rain and long-lasting fog that we’ve been having all summer. Increased numbers of wasp or other butterfly predators/parasites? (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 1 and 2, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Velvet

Here’s a wary young white-tailed buck yesterday before the camera click.

After the click, I got one more decent shot and then a good view of buck butt; here’s the decent view:

This buck is likely finished growing his antlers and soon will be shedding that velvet covering to reveal the hard bone. State wildlife reports document that Maine bucks usually begin growing antlers in April. The growing bones are encased within the velvety skin tissue and blood vessels that nurture them.

The velvet is shed when growth is complete in late August and September.  The hardened, polished antlers remain until they’re shed sometime in late December through early March, depending on conditions. A buck’s first true antlers usually appear at the end of his first year, but the nubbin bases for these bones usually appear on male fawns by one month of age, according to the reports.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on September 1, 2023.)

August Postcards From Down East Maine

August is high summer here in “Vacationland,” but we’re having one of our wettest summers ever this year. August was a monsoon-with-fog month in which the rainfall sometimes was a raging torrent and the fog often visually impenetrable.

Nonetheless, there were sunny days and they often were sparkling examples of great-to-be-alive experiences that will provide enough summer memories to carry us through the winter. We’ll begin here with those good times and note that, here on the coast, water always is a good place to start anything, especially if its glistening in a snug harbor or lazing under puffy stratocumulus clouds.

A positive side of having plenty of precipitation is that our streams flowed fast, our woods stayed lush, and our fields remained mostly green the entire month, unlike many previous Augusts.

Many of our homes here on the coast are hidden in the woods and accessed by very long driveways or country lanes that often are made of dredged “rotten rock”" or some other semi-soft surface. These drives and lanes can provide a soothingly beautiful homecoming. However, after the kinds of violent rains that we had in August, they also could become a jarring path of potholes. Many lanes got several new gradings, often the old-fashioned way.

Well, I suppose that we’ve come to the precipitation part of August. We had many days of plain gray rain, sometimes raging; plain gray fog, sometimes seemingly impenetrable; rain and fog combinations of gray variations, and dark days of fine drizzle in which some color shone through.

Some of our wildlife appeared to be affected by the August rains, especially some of the more delicate insects. It seemed that we saw fewer monarch butterflies, monarch caterpillars, and dragonflies than last August, and many of those that we saw were not in the best of shape. On the other hand, green frogs smiled contentedly in their full ponds.

Our larger winged migrants seemed to fare well. The three osprey nestlings that we monitored since spring fledged in August, although the youngest one sat in her nest alone for days (where her Dad fed her) before she dared to fly off. The great blue herons returned in good numbers this year and concentrated intensely on their fishing in August’s rain and sun without seeming to notice either.

Our major resident wildlife, white-tailed deer, seemed to have no problem with the weather, although the fawns sometimes needed reassuring neck hugs from loving Moms.

On the commercial waterfront, despite foul weather, the lobster season progressed acceptably through August, reportedly better than last year, not as good as the year before.

On the recreational waterfront, the passengers on the schooners and other classic coastal cruisers suffered in some of the bad weather. Sailing in the rain is different from dancing in it, but that show went on rain or shine. On the other hand, when the weather was glorious and the wind was up, there were few better places to be than sailing on a big-masted vessel in Maine waters.

On the educational waterfront, sailing lessons at the WoodenBoat School were not only inhibited by fog and rain, there was at least one day that the wind decided not to attend class and some sailors became rowers. But there were many good sailing days as well, even in fog and rain.

As you would expect, the Down East flora flourished in August’s dampness, especially mushrooms. In the berry aisle, wild blackberries ripened during the month, bunchberry remained bright, and viburnum berries grew profusely.

Water lilies and arrow arum had a good month, as did such August staples as thistle, Queen Anne’s lace, daisy fleabane, and goldenrod.

In the gardens, heather and yarrow stood up and tiger lilies parachuted down.

Finally, and perhaps most memorably, this August was a historic moon month. It had a magnificent full moon that began the month, a dramatic crescent moon in mid-month that lit up Great Cove (shown below), and a huge second (“blue”) moon that was a near-orbit “supermoon” in the early hours of its last day (also shown below). The next blue super moon will be in 2037. This may be the last one for some of us.

(All images in this post were taken in Down East Maine during August 2023.)

In the Right Place: Interval

Most of yesterday’s weather was a fugue of thick and thin fog intervals with raging and light rains providing the counter-rhythms. When the fog and rain dominated, we were cocooned by gray and silver. When the fog rolled out and the rain slowed to a steady drizzle, some color crept back into our darkened day.

What you see above and below are images of one of the calmer intervals at Conary Cove yesterday, when the fog had rolled out and the rain was steady, but light:

(Images taken in Blue Hill, Maine, on August 30, 2023.)

In the Right Place: The Devil Is in the Details

We seem to have more dragonflies flying around this month than butterflies. Here you see what I believe is a male Seaside Dragonlet (Erythrodiplax berenice), the only species of dragonfly in the Western Hemisphere capable of propagating in salt water:

Below, you’ll see one of the many species of small, red Meadowhawk Dragonflies that apparently were put on earth to drive me crazy trying to identify them:

I think it is a Cherry-Faced Meadowhawk (Sympetrum internum), based on the black legs, colorless wings, and darker head.

There are several theories about how dragonflies got their names. A leading one is that the English name derives from the Romanian word for dragonfly, which translates to Devil’s Horse or Devil’s Fly. (“Drac” reportedly means “devil” in Romanian). The Romanian designation, in turn, apparently was inspired by the story of the devil changing St. George’s horse into a giant flying insect. (A horse-size insect is easy to identify, I bet.)

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on August 24 and 27, 2023.)

Thoughts in an August Wood

A good stand of fir and spruce trees can provide swaying portals for sunbeams that seem to like to descend and dance on spongy moss while the incense of balsam hangs in the air.

In such a wood, it doesn’t take much imagination to see the light as nymphs flitting behind lichened trunks or to go the other way and realize how small we humans are in many ways compared to some other living neighbors.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on August 27 and 28, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Graduation Approaches

Here you see a Monarch Butterfly Caterpillar feasting yesterday on butterfly weed (Asclepias tuberosa, L.), a plant in the milkweed family:

Given the date, I believe that these little fellows wearing the royal colors now are part of the last graduating class of the year. (Sex assumed.) That is, their generation will metamorphize into the Monarch butterflies that will attempt to migrate many miles to the south next month, a voyage of incredible danger for such small and fragile creatures. Their parents apparently were in one of the latter-month generations that were born here and will die here.

The migrating Monarchs (Danaus plexippus plexippus) are a subspecies of the non-migratory Monarchs (Danaus plexippus) that mostly stay in southern Mexico, Central America, northern South America, and the Caribbean. 

The migratory Monarch population reportedly has shrunk at least by between 22 and 72 percent over the past decade (2021 estimates). This disaster-in-the-making has been attributed primarily to man-made causes, including milkweed habitat loss, pesticides, and harsher weather caused by climate change. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on August 26, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Piercing

Here you see a wide-angle image of the waxing crescent moon that appeared in a BLUE sky above Great Cove at 8:25 p.m. on Tuesday:

Below, you’ll see a long-lens image of the same moon that appeared in a DARK sky two minutes before the first image:

Do we have here one of those Churchillian riddles wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma? No, I don’t think so.

As I understand it, we see a blue sky when the sun’s rainbow of light colors reaches the Earth’s atmosphere and becomes scattered or deflected. Each rainbow color has a wavelength and the shorter that length, the more that light is scattered toward our eyes. Violet and blue have the shortest wavelengths, so they can become the dominant color that we see when looking into the atmosphere.

Violet and blue sunlight can be so bright that it prevents us from seeing the light of (or on) stars and other objects outside our atmosphere. However, if we pierce through that brightness with a telescope or long camera lens, the sun’s scattered light will disappear as well as the color that it brings us. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on August 22, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Not So Hot

I spent about 20 minutes waiting for this Great Blue Heron to catch a fish or fly away so that I could get an action shot with those big wings spread. He did neither.

The most exertion he managed was to bend over occasionally and take a close look into the water for fish or to admire his reflection; it was hard to tell:

It was a warm day by Maine standards, but this bird didn’t appear to be uncomfortably hot, a state that you often can detect in Great Blues, our largest native wading birds.  They principally show heat stress in two ways. First, they’ll stand with their wings down and out to allow cooling air to flow over themselves better.

Second, and more interesting, GBHs and some other birds will keep their beaks open and look like they’re gasping. That’s called “gular fluttering” because it involves quivering the gular (throat) muscle to help to carry heat out of the body quickly through lungs and air sacs, while bringing in cool air to regulate body temperature. Think of it as bird panting.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on August 20, 2023.)

In the Right Place: A Problem

There was just one thing wrong with Monday morning at Great Cove. Sure, it was a beautiful day: sunny, yet cool; big, cloudless sky, and intriguing boats posing alluringly so that we could see two views of their lines instead of one.

HOWEVER, there was little more than a snake’s breath of wind. The WoodenBoat School class on open boat sailing appeared to be giving up and ROWING their Caledonia Yawl back to its mooring, as you’ll see if you look closely at the above image and the one below

As for the first image above, the Caledonia under sail and oars at 9 o’clock is a 19.5’ double-ender named “Swifty”; at 6 o’clock, there’s an 18’ Westpointer named “Geronimo”; at 3 o’clock, there’s an 18’8” Mackinaw ketch that I’ve only heard called “the Mackinaw”; and, at 12 o’clock, there’s a catboat named “Fiona” that looks to be about 16’ long.

Here’s “Swifty” when she got to her mooring buoy:

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on August 21, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Surprises

I learned a lesson yesterday. I went to pick a luscious-looking wild blackberry, which was slightly blurry because I didn’t have my close-up (reading) glasses on. All of a sudden, an insect launched from the fruit and was buzzing viciously in my face. I backed off with a lurch and the insect went back to its berry, as you see here:

Yes, Eastern Yellow Jackets (Vespula maculifrons) feed on blackberries. They also are among our most aggressive wasps and known to deliver a very painful sting to humans who annoy them. They eat other insects, but are classified as “frugivores” because they also obtain carbohydrates from fruit, nectar, and honeydew (a sugar-rich liquid secreted by aphids) in the wild.

In recreational areas, they often feast on the dregs of soft drinks and other sugary human foods. In fact, in addition to being aggressive, they can be gluttonous and have been known to get fall-down drunk after consuming too much fermented honeydew. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on August 23, 2023.)

In the Right Place: A Different Look

Here you see a sight that we haven’t seen for a while. It’s the distinctive cutter “Norna” in Great Cove Monday. Her two-year Atlantic Ocean circumnavigation was featured in the book Accidental Sailor Girl by Kourtney Patterson (2014, Paper Sailor, Inc.). She’s had quite a history.

“Norna” was built and launched in Denmark in 1988 and sailed to St. Augustine, Florida, where she was blown apart in a propane explosion, according to the reports. She was bought for $10.00 and rebuilt over a 10-year period before sailing the high seas again for several years. One 2021 report indicated that she was on-the-hard in Maine and up for sale and she appears to have a Maine registration number on her bow. It’s good to see her sailing again.

Information from the technical reports: “Norna” is 38’ long on deck with a 12.5’ beam (widest part). She’s got quite a combination of woods. Her lapstrake (overlapping planked) hull is larch on oak with copper rivets and Monel (nickel-and copper-based) fastenings. Her mast is built from Sitka Spruce, her bowsprit and gaff boom from larch, and the boom and yard from Douglas fir. She sails mostly with a gaff-rigged mainsail and two jibs, but has two rectangular sails that can be rigged from her yardarm, as well. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on August 21, 2023)

In the Right Place: Be a Good Boy

I had to smile yesterday morning while watching a local sorority of white-tailed deer work their way through our North Field. There were six does, two yearlings, and a summer fawn. The field is high with goldenrod, tansy, and Queen Anne’s lace, but there still are sweet green slips that are moist and tasty.

The fawn was racing back and forth, gamboling raucously with one of the yearlings around and through the group. It suddenly stopped and walked over to a doe, which stared at it several seconds, as you see here:

And then – here comes the smile – the doe gave the fawn a real good neck hug and the fawn enjoyed it as much as any well-stroked cat:

The fawn then walked off, subdued.

I have no way of knowing what I saw, but I do like to imagine endings to stories that need them. I imagine that the fawn was a young buck and he was driving the slow- browsing adults crazy. His Mom called him over and gave him a stern lecture. Mom then “said” (audibly or not) “Now, be a good boy and play slowly.” And, as good Moms do, she hugged him hard and let him go. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on August 21, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Well-Kept Secrets

We’re on the downslope of August and, lately, the woods have been lush, the soil moist, the streams flowing well, and the temperatures cool-to-moderate.

Often in prior years at this time, leaves were beginning to wilt, grasses were browning, and soils and streams were dry or virtually dry. It also could be hot by Maine standards, which means anything the reaches 80 degrees (F) or above. But we’ve had more fog and rain this year.

I should mention with gratitude that the images shown here are of well-kept wooded paths on a neighboring property – and, by well-kept, I mean not overly-kept. We and our wildlife don’t want the city park look here.

(Images taken on August 19, 2023.)