In the Right Place: Elegance

White-tailed deer seem to belong in our woods more than any other mammal. They just look “right” all of the time, especially during first light when they’re slowly on the move over snow-covered ground:

There’s an easygoing elegance to them in the woods that I find hard to find in red squirrels and other small rodents, weasels, bob cats, coyotes, bears, Moose, or (especially) that increasingly chair-dependent species, humans.

White-tails often act as if they own the place and will engage in staring contests with a careful human who has entered their territory. But most are also woods-smart and know when to show you why they’re called white-tailed deer:

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on February 17, 2024.)

In the Right Place: O&O Mode

We had one of those shy, off-and-on snowstorms yesterday. But it was diligent and eventually deposited a little more than two inches, maybe three, here on the coast. At about mid-day it had nothing left and the sun decided to show us that it also could perform in off-and-on mode. Here are a few local scenes taken during and after the snow.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on February 16, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Language

It snowed a nice snow last night, but I haven’t been able to get out yet. So, I offer this image of Great Cove on Wednesday, which was a beautifully bright, wildly windy, and bitterly cold day:

Extending outward into the whitecaps is the WoodenBoat School’s “pier” or “dock,” a word choice that may depend on your point of view. I always wondered what the difference was between a pier and a dock, and I finally put the question to Google.

It turns out that most language experts apparently say that, for American English, there is no meaningful difference between the two words; either is proper in common discussion. However, there are some regional American word preferences in which a “dock” is any simple floating structure for securing (“docking”) one or more boats, while a “pier” is larger, built on vertical supports, and is more of a public place from which to fish or even enjoy recreational enterprises, whether or not it has an area for docking vessels.

On the other hand, for British English speakers, piers and docks apparently always are distinctly differentiated. For them, a dock refers to an enclosed body of water separated from the surrounding water; it is used primarily for trade-oriented activities such as loading, unloading, and repairs. British piers are known as the structures that jut from the shore into the waters, often for public recreation.  

(Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on February 14, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Weather Zoo

It was sunny yesterday, but the temperatures never got out of the 20s (F) and there were wind gusts of nearly 40 miles per hour. It was a beautiful – but uncomfortable – Valentine’s Day to walk along the shore. As you see here, Great Cove was flecked with whitecaps:

We even had some minor surf at Naskeag Harbor:

That’s fickle February for you. It can imitate spring or winter. It even can imitate both at the same time, as it did yesterday, when the wind came in like a March lion and the cold arrived like a January polar bear. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on February 14, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Secret Valentine Bouquets

It’s Valentine’s Day and, for those who like their Valentine’s flowers secret and from a wild hothouse, this is the time for you. As you see here, the first plants of the year have been emerging through the snow and ice for at least a week, but their flowers are hidden in their comfortably heated housings.

Yes, the missile-like spathes of eastern skunk cabbage are melting their surroundings and rising despite freezing temperatures. Hidden within each of them is a round bouquet (a spadix) of the plants’ minute flowers:

Leighton Archive Image

It’s one of the most amazing processes in nature. Eastern skunk cabbage (Symplocarpus foetidus) is one of a very few plants that has evolved the ability to metabolically generate considerable heat, which enables the plant to get a jump on competitors before spring arrives. Skunk cabbages have been known to raise the temperature of the flowers in their spathes to 71.6˚ F (22˚C), even when the surrounding temperatures are freezing.

Not only does that heat keep the flower from freezing, but it also is thought to attract and shelter the earliest pollinators, which crawl into the side opening of the spathe for a little refreshment, then leave and help propagate the species. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on February 12, 2024, except as indicated.)

In the Right Place: Returns

More than 100 common eiders, Maine’s largest native ducks, returned to the mouth of the Blue Hill Falls in early winter, and stayed there again this year. That’s surprising, since eiders are shy and there have been significant disruptions in that area due to replacement of the bridge over the Falls. All of these big-beaked, loud-mouthed birds usually have left for their breeding grounds before the end of March.

The eiders (Somateria mollissima) are a declining species here; within the past decade, significantly fewer of them have returned each year. It’s like watching the slow death of a friend or a beloved pet who grew up with you. Each year, we wonder whether that winter will be the winter of no return, when their space in the rolling waters remains empty and silent.

The Blue Hill raft of eiders, as usual, consists mostly of females (bronze) with about 10 percent males (white and black). Binocular scans of the birds revealed no king eiders hiding in the crowd, as sometimes happens. (Images taken in Blue Hill, Maine, on February 10, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Dipping for Dollars

Yesterday evening we had an amazing Super Bowl, but the big event here yesterday morning was a an amazing “cold water dip” at Naskeag Point, as you see here. Winter dipping is a fairly recent Maine activity in which groups of people (sometimes an individual) immerse themselves in the sea or other body of water during the winter. They often do it to seek donations and/or publicity for a cause, while inviting others to it to have some cold weather fun.

Yesterday, the sponsoring group was Finding Our Voices (FOV) out of Camden, Maine, which describes itself as “a grassroots movement of survivors breaking the silence of domestic abuse in Maine.” The group reportedly raised more than $4,000. Although FOV’s mission calls up disturbing thoughts, the participants were full of smiles and laughter and the audience was full of happy adults and children enjoying a beautiful sunny day in a beautiful spot. The ambient temperature was 41° (F) when the dip started, and the water temperature was a reported 37°.

It was a fairly high tide when people started collecting for the event on the sand spit at Naskeag Point. A small fire was started to take the chill off and children and dogs enjoyed some exploration.

A little after 9:30 a.m., the dip line was formed and the resolute dippers waded into the water as the warmly dressed audience of all ages watched and gasped a bit. Many were wearing something colored yellow, FOV’s signature color.

Afterward, the dippers took photos, dried off and were served cake.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on February 11, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Low Tide Tidying

Here you see repairs being done and increased protections being installed along the coast of Naskeag Harbor Friday. The working waterfront there suffered considerable erosion during the extreme storms that hit Maine in December and January.

Two excavators can get a lot done at low tide – laying containment fabric, spreading riprap, and plucking and placing large boulders to form a sea border. But work has to stop at high tide.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on February 9, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Art Appreciation

Paris has “The Thinker,” August Rodin’s bronze sculpture of a pensive poet, an innovative art form that some think was inspired by Dante’s “Divine Comedy.” Not to be outdone, Brooklin has “The Shrinker,” a melting snow sculpture of what I like to think is a lazy propane grill enthusiast, perhaps a new art form inspired by the 1957 movie “The Incredible Shrinking Man”:

(Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on February 7, 2024.) Click on the image to enlarge it.

In the Right Place: A Golden Opportunity

This image of an eastern golden eagle appears in my monthly column in the current Ellsworth American. The column is about these magnificent eagles and a recently-announced opportunity for birders, hunters, landowners, trappers, and other wildlife enthusiasts in Maine to participate in a new state study of these birds. 

(The image was taken at the Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge, where the bird was recovering from a wound; click on it to enlarge it.) To read the column, click here: https://www.5backroad.com/montly-column

In the Right Place: Gland Tidings

This young doe is one of “our” white-tailed deer – one of the several groups of does and one buck that consider our property to be within their somewhat circular browsing range. This image reveals two of her important leg glands that are named for their anatomical location and that I was surprised to learn about when I started reading about white-tails.

That dark spot on the inside crook of her left hind leg is her tarsal gland, which works in conjunction with an internal gland to produce a substance on which the deer urinates purposely at least daily. Researchers believe that this function creates each deer’s own, distinct scent by which they are primarily known in the white-tail herd. That is, white-tails usually recognize each other by urine-stimulated smell, not sight.

That tuft of white hair on the outside of the right hind leg about six inches above the hoof is the metatarsal gland. There’s another one on the outside of the left leg. Researchers believe that these glands are cold sensors that activate the deer’s body temperature controls to help conserve energy. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on February 6, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Sheets and Sweeps

Weatherwise, we’re still having morning temperatures in the mid-20s (F) and afternoon highs in the mid-30s. This seems to annoy the sea ice, which sometimes softly creaks and groans when it has to expand and contract.

One of the best places to watch restless sea ice around here is Patten Bay just off the still-snow-covered Surry Wharf. Two fairly significant streams near there feed the Bay with fresh water, making it a little easier for the salted sea inlet to freeze a few of its surface inches.

At low tide, the ice covers the near sea bottom there like a pristine satin sheet thrown over a rubble field:

Farther out, however, the forming and melting ice create graceful, sweeping passageways:

(Images taken in Surry, Maine, on February 5, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Form and Function, Part II

Yesterday, you saw here images of two of the four working fishing vessels that moor regularly at Naskeag Harbor in the winter; today, you’ll be seeing the remaining two vessels, both of which are Down East-style designs. It was a special moment.

All four boats were photographed at the same time late Saturday afternoon, when they were caught in the spotlight of a very low setting sun. The sun’s searching rays skimmed virtually horizontally, not piercing the water, allowing its slight chop to remain the color of a sapphire in low light. But those last sunrays of the day strafed in over the water and found the boats, which flared brightly in places for just a few minutes as dusk settled in to calm things.

Above, you see Captain Morgan, mooring the farthest out near the end of Harbor Island. You get a good view of the mast and boom that control her scallop dredge (“her drag”) and of her “shelling hut” (or “shelling house”) behind the wheelhouse. This equipment will be gone by lobster season. Below, you’ll see Dear Abbie: (correctly spelled with her full colon [:]) in the initial Comment space. Her slightly different shelling hut is highlighted as is her signature orange “mooring ball” (or “mooring buoy”).

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on February 3, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Form and Function

Here you see a very low setting sun dramatically spotlighting the port side of Tarrfish in Naskeag Harbor Saturday. She’s one of the local vessels that was designed for hauling and tending lobster traps in the summer, but is modified in the winter with a mast and boom for scallop-dredging (“dragging”).

The spotlighting emphasizes the character of American-styled lobster boats, such as Tarrfish, that are built based on concepts originating in Down East Maine. Above the water line, the smooth-sheared hull sweeping from a higher bow and the slightly laid-back wheelhouse windows are Down East characteristics.

These American-style vessels are significantly different in design from the Canadian Nova Scotia -style vessels commonly known as “Novi” boats. One such vessel is the Christopher Devin III, which was photographed in the Harbor at the same time as Tarrfish was. Novi hulls are more rounded under water and acutely stepped up above at the bow, while their windows are forward-slanted.

In case you’re wondering, that’s a trap rack on Tarrfish’s deck; it will be used to stabilize stacks of lobster traps when they are transported next season, but is now a convenient place to hang gear. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on February 3, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Waters, Wiggles, and Lichens

Here you see the final falls of Patten Stream delivering cold, clear, fresh water into salty Patten Bay yesterday. The fulsome stream is a significant passageway for a number of fish species, including American eels. (Yes, eels are fish.)

Usually starting in March, the eels wiggle their way upstream as tiny transparent babies (commonly called “glass eels”), trying to avoid being caught in fishermen’s nets. Some of these migrants will return downstream years later as opaque adults that are longer than a yardstick and ready to begin their long, slithering swim to the Sargasso Sea. They’ll breed and die there.

You may have noticed the orange growth on some of the rocks in this image. That appears to be common orange lichen (Xanthoria parietina), which also is known as maritime sunburst lichen. It often grows on walls, hence it has the scientific epithet “parietina,” which means “on walls.” This lichen has been the subject of much scientific inquiry. If fact, it was chosen as a model organism for genomic sequencing. (Image taken in Surry, Maine, on February 3, 2024.)

In the Right Place: February Caprices

Yesterday was mostly drab here, but the temperatures were in the mid- to upper-30s (F), which meant that we had a February melt. Here you see the warmth revealing tractor traces in our north field and destroying the evidence of the many critters that sneak through there:

As that was going on, the pond ice was being softened, offering the prospect of having some clear water there soon until fickle February decides – and she almost certainly will – to freeze things up again.

Meanwhile, there’s hope embodied in knowing that, deep below that melting pond ice, muck-entombed painted turtles exist somewhere between life and death, oblivious to February’s caprices. They always have emerged in the spring, and we’re counting on them to do so again this year. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on February 2, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Laying Low

Fickle February arrived yesterday morning carrying a very low tide that indiscreetly exposed the bottoms of Fishing Vessel Tarrfish and Great Cove.

It’s just as well, Tarrfish needed a rudder repair and the blanket of sea ice in the Cove needed a rest. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on February 1, 2024.)

January Postcards From Down East Maine

January was named after Janus, the Roman god of beginnings and ends and change. This year, the month lived up to its name with dramatic examples of Climate Change. We experienced sunny vistas and blinding snows; bitter cold and unseasonable warmth, and dry days and rainy days that sometimes became hurricane-like. There were times of heartbreaking damage from super-high tides and record-breaking winds, and times of sunny serenity and joy.

Let’s begin this month’s Post Cards with some of January’s sunny serenity and joy.

Of course, there was that special beauty that can occur during snow storms, when color almost disappears and that unique grayness-and-whiteness of a snowy day dominates unless we see an indominable primary color.

However, as mentioned, there was damage and ugliness in January. Power lines and trees came down across roads, shorting out electricity and blocking traffic; docks that extended elegantly into harbors one day that were destroyed the next; coasts that were festooned with seaweed and debris from eroding shores, and many residences and businesses that were flooded.

In the flora department, fortunately, most of our area’s old, specimen trees not only survived, they became works of art. The Camperdown elm in the Cemetery, the weeping beech on the ridge, and the ancient apple trees by the WoodenBoat Lane curve stood tall all month. Moreover. we had winterberry berries that lasted all month and our Christmas Day Amaryllis that failed to do its job in December became a Martin Luther King Day Amaryllis in January.

As for fauna, our hearty residents didn’t seem to bat an eye when the weather got dicey. Wild turkeys hunkered down and appeared when the sun came out, white-tailed deer bucks and does went about their browsing on frozen ground and in snow, and some herring gulls slept through the hard times.

On the working waterfront, the fishing vessels were equipped with masts and booms for winter scallop dragging and sometimes developed icicle teeth during snow storms. Meanwhile, recreational boats snored away in their storage sheds.

The January full moon is known as the Wolf Moon because it arises when wolves howl. This year, it rose in rough, red form into a cloudy sky, then, it became silver when it ascended above our atmosphere. Toward the end of the month, the Wolf Moon became and Egg Moon as its luminosity waned.

Finally, we come to the best of the month— the spectacular January sunsets and afterglows, often the best of the year due to the more southerly perspective of our sun. This year, the spectacles didn’t disappoint.

(All images in this posting were taken in Brooklin, Maine, during January 2024.)

In the Right Place: Winter Morning Moon

At first light yesterday, the moon was sailing high and far in a cold, blue sky, no longer a full Wolf Moon; now, it is a disappearing Egg Moon. It is “waning” (losing luminosity) and “gibbous” (humped, malformed). It was at a reported 80 percent luminosity to us from reflected sunlight in this image.

The moon will continue to lose that luminosity until it disappears from unaided sight on February 9, when it becomes a “new moon” (no visible moon). After that, it slowly will become a “waxing” moon (gaining luminosity) that again will become gibbous after the sun illuminates 50 percent or more of the surface that we see, but not all of that surface. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on January 30, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Nonpolitical Graft

Here you see the scarce Camperdown elm that I monitor regularly. This image was taken as the snow was stopping yesterday. The elm seems to be writhing in grief over a cluster of graves in the center of the Brooklin Cemetery.

The gravestone, but apparently not the body, of Rodney S. Blake is there. He reportedly was a 19th Century Brooklin sailor who was lost at sea. I’ve been unable to find the history of this particular tree, but it apparently is over 100 years old. 

All Camperdowns (Ulmus glabra “Camperdownii”) apparently are infertile cultivars produced by grafts, not seeds. They all can be traced back to a unique tree created about 1837 in Dundee, Scotland, by David Taylor, the head forester for the Earl of Camperdown. He reportedly found an unknown young species of tree that was elm-like, but contorted. He grafted a cutting of his find to a young Wych elm, then planted that cultivar in the Earl’s garden, where it remains today.  

Grafts from the Taylor tree started the line of Camperdowns that exists today, according to reports of the species’ history. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on January 29, 2024.) Click on the image to enlarge it.