In the Right Place: O Nest Report II

Here you see Harriet doing what female ospreys mostly do in the very early spring:  waiting in the nest for her mate to bring food home and engage with him in what has to be done for the survival of the species. 

This year’s Harriet is a bit different from those of past years: She spends a good part of her time near the nest, but not on it. When Ozzie, her mate, comes to the nest, she’ll return to it at least for a while. Perhaps she senses that she’ll be spending quite a bit of time hunkered in that nest over eggs and then red-eyed nestlings. As usual for male ospreys, Ozzie does not spend extended periods in the nest. He comes and goes:

But Ozzie has been steadfast in bringing fresh fish home and fulfilling his other male responsibilities – including coming out of the blue when Harriet screams at a threat. There has been at least one other osprey interested in either Harriet or the nest, or both, but Harriet always screams osprey obscenities at the intruder and Ozzie always arrives like the cavalry. He viciously drives away the intruder, sometimes with Harriet’s eager help.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, om April 16 and 19, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Glad Tidings

This is the last of our review of the state of summer-readiness of the commercial piers and docks in Brooklin, some of which suffered significant damage from violent weather this winter. Here are recent images of the famous WoodenBoat School pier, which seemed to survive the storms wonderfully well.

The image above reveals the pier’s massive granite slab foundations during a lowering tide last week. Of course, the pier’s docking float and gangway were removed from the pier’s end for the winter. Below, you’ll see the pier during a normal rising tide this month. During some of the storm periods, super-high tide water driven by angry winds washed over the pier’s deck.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 8 and 14, 2024.)

In the Right Place: ABC Pier Report

This is a continuation of my quick review of how the repairs are going (if at all) on the piers around here that suffered the worst damage from the violent storms in January.

As you see from the images below, taken yesterday, repairs apparently have not begun yet on the pier at the Atlantic Boat Company in Herrick Bay. That pier was devastated by the storms, which is evident from the images.

You can get a better idea of what that pier looked like before the storms from this image:.

That photo shows the launching of the Fishing Vessel “Dear Abbie:” after her restoration at ABC six years ago; the pier is behind the vessel. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 17, 2024, and May 18, 2018.)

In the Right Place: BBY Report

I went over to Center Harbor at low tide on Sunday to check things out at the Brooklin Boat Yard. The damaged pier is being repaired, but much of it has not yet been replaced, as you see here.

As you may remember, that pier (and many others) suffered significant damage during one of the violent storms that we had in January.

On the other hand, in the BBY small boat shed, all seemed calm, content, and colorful:

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 14, 2027.)

In the Right Place: The Saga Begins

Ozzie and Harriet, the ospreys, are back in their summer nest that overlooks Great Cove. For several years, these posts have documented the summer saga of the magnificent inhabitants of this nest. The retuning birds appear to have been the same pair of adult ospreys for the last six years. In each of those years, they’ve raised three offspring in their penthouse-with-a-view.

Yesterday, which I think was the first time this year that both ospreys were in the nest together, there was a lot of copulating going on, as usual for April. (See Ozzie’s high-flying approach below.) So, I expect that we’ll see red-eyed nestlings again this year.

Background for new readers: For descriptive ease, the adult ospreys in this nest are always named “Ozzie” and “Harriet” and their offspring “David,” “Ricky,” and “June.” The intent is to remind some of you of a certain age of “The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet.” That was a popular sitcom about happy but hectic American home life in the 1950s and 1960s, the times of my own happy but hectic youth.

That show featured Ozzie and Harriet Nelson and their sons David and Ricky. I name the third-born osprey for the month of the bird’s birth, which usually is June. If and when there are more than three surviving offspring, there will be new names.

I feel comfortable taking liberties with the gender of the offsprings’ names because the sex of immature ospreys is not obvious and even the larger size of the mature females compared to mature males is not always apparent. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 15, 2024.) Stay tuned.

In the Right Place: The Real Estate Market

I spent a pleasant half-hour yesterday morning watching a well-camouflaged muskrat swimming back and forth and diving and surfacing in our pond. The scene was enhanced by his swimming within the abstract art of reflected cattails and his ripples in the dark water turning blue as they reflected the sky:

His real business apparently was inspecting this waterfront property to determine whether it was suitable for a summer residence for him and his prospective family. I hope that he liked it; the price is right for muskrats.

Muskrats are wonderful swimmers. They paddle almost silently with their strong webbed hind feet; and swish their thick, round tails back and forth for extra propulsion. They even know how to scull with that powerful equipment and swim backwards. When they dive, they reportedly can hold their breaths for up to 20 minutes.

Muskrats once were hunted widely for their soft fur and purported rabbit-like taste. (Here’s part of one old recipe: “Skin and remove all fat from hams … sauté until golden … [s]erve with creamed celery.”) They get their name from the strong scent that they use to mark their territory and their rat-like looks, especially when seen with their long tail fully in view. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 14, 2024.)

In the Right Place: The Joy of Awakening

Barbara maintained a hibiscus friend of ours on comatose life support for over two years. Two days ago, her hibiscus awoke with a sensual joy of a type that only a hibiscus can express. Here you see the patient blooming yesterday:

In Tahiti and Hawaii, we’re told, the tradition was that a woman wearing a red Hibiscus behind her right ear was looking for a relationship and that a woman wearing one behind her left ear was signaling that she was in a relationship. I wonder what placing a yellow and pink hibiscus in front of a sunny window means? (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 13, 2024.)

In the Right Place: On Getting High

We’ve been getting some hefty high tides lately. Here you see a receding tide at Naskeag harbor on Wednesday. It reached a recorded 12.5 feet high an hour before this image was taken. At that time, it lapped above the Town Dock and brought in the rockweed and other detritus that you see lying about.

As you probably know, high tide usually is measured from the low tide water mark, which is considered to be zero feet. (Think of seeing a six-foot tall man whose feet are somehow firmly stuck to the low water mark. A 6.5-foot-high incoming tide would slowly make him disappear and turn him into an underwater small boat hazard. In a 12.5-foot tide, such as you see here, he likely would no longer be a small boat hazard.)

Below,, you’ll see Monday’s receding tide that was reported as 11.9 feet high in the morning. It invaded a usually dry area near the shore of Great Cove, made a floating draw bridge across a stream there rise, and tried to climb the beach-access stairs. 

Note the 50-foot long, blown-down spruce in the center of the image above. It toppled into the Cove from its eroding bank, a victim of a recent high-wind storm. The tree will be removed during a low tide by our local expert for such difficult jobs, Tobey Woodward. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 8 and 10, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Stonewalling, the Yankee Terminology

This is a restored New England field stone wall that originally penned-in sheep in the area on the left. According to the literature, this also can be called a “stone fence” in Yankee parlance. That’s because the wall is freestanding and the land on each side is about the same level; the stones are there to divide – “fence-off” – property, not hold it up like a “stone retaining wall.”

(Remember the characterization in Robert Frost’s “Mending Wall” poem? While the two neighbors were mending the stone wall along their property line, one referred to the wall and said, “Good FENCES make good neighbors.” [Emphasis added.])

Actually, the wall shown here is a popular type apparently known as a “field stone double wall,” because it is made of two lines of stone that have rubble between them. In fact, some sources indicate that it probably would be more accurate to refer to this wall as a “normal’ or “regular” or “traditional” field stone double wall because its large stones were cleared from the property and are only “stacked.” That is, the stones are not very carefully “laid” or “fitted” or “reshaped” to make what often is called an “ornate” field stone double wall. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 8, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Advice to Bear in Mind

This image of a black bear appears in my monthly column in the current Ellsworth American – is he bluffing an attack or not? 

To find out what the bear apparently was doing and how to handle encounters with black bears, read the column by clicking here: http://www.5backroad.com/montly-column

In the Right Place: In the Eye of the Beholder

You’ve heard of invasive vines in trees. Well, on the WoodenBoat School campus you’ll find attractive lines in trees.

In fact, up close, you’ll find what could pass for abstract art there:

This tidy landscape hanging includes colorful mooring buoys with white ropes and rusty anchors with chains. They spend the winter brightening up things and the summer in nearby Great Cove, where only the tops of the buoys will be seen (if there is no fog). (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 8 (wide-angle) and 1 (closeup), 2024.)

In the Right Place: A Magic Show for Lunatics

[Above is the unobscured sun as seen here through a black polymer solar filter yesterday afternoon before showtime.]

Maine was the last state in the U.S. from which to watch our little moon totally eclipse its 400-times-larger sun yesterday through the magic of perspective. And, it turned out that the lunar “Path of Totality” through center-north Maine was one of the best places to view the spectacle – the skies were clear and it was relatively warm. We won’t have another chance to see a total solar eclipse in the 48 contiguous states until 2044.

Here on the coast, a bit to the east of the Path, the moon eclipse was not total. It hid slightly more than 97% of the sun, right above Great Cove. The sun became a slivered crescent to us and it got chilly, but the landscape never got very dark.

The only wildlife here that might have gotten erratic due to the event were a few wild turkeys that appeared to offer extremely loud gobbling praise when the eclipse was at its maximum. But, you can never tell when a turkey will get goofy. Also, at about 2:30 this dark, moonless morning, we were awakened by coyote pack howls, screams, and barks, but it is more likely that this offering was a spring celebration than a “lunatic” ceremony.

Here are selected images of the partial eclipse that we saw here yesterday afternoon:

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 8, 2024.)

In the Right Place: High & Dry Meets Low & Wet

Virtually all of the snow from last week’s spring blizzard is gone from the woods. Most of our trails are in good shape, although there have been a few big tree blow-downs that complicate matters.

The bogs and lowlands are another story. They’re under more water now than I’ve ever seen in the spring. Many skunk cabbage spathes and early shoots have become submersibles beneath the lingering floodwaters.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 7, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Opportunities

Here’s a friend of mine. She happens to be over 100 years old. She also happens to be an apple tree. But none of that’s important to this post.

What is important is that she’s pointing out angles to me – her gnarly wooden ones and man-made gravel and dirt ones that, when focused on together, form an interesting composition. At least to me.

Stated another way, I’ve photographed this tree countless times. Like a good artist’s model, she has something special that can make her surroundings more attractive, no matter how mundane or functional they may be. She keeps reminding me that there almost always are opportunities to see things in a new way. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 2, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Pregnant Paws

These are the furry catkins of American pussy willow (Salix discolor) during Wednesday’s cold weather. (“Catkin” is not an endearment whispered to felines; it’s a botanical term for slim flower clusters with nonexistent or tiny petals.) Pussy willow catkins usually are one of the first signs that winter has lost its grip, but not this week – the following day we had an April blizzard.

Of course, the common name for this furry plant, “pussy willow,” reflects the resemblance of its catkins to cat or kitten paws. That “fur” only is on male pussy willows to protect their flower pollen from the elements. The male flowers have no petals or scent; they’re just stamens that are pregnant with pollen. 

The cat fur soon will be shed, allowing the stamens to cast massive amounts of dusty pollen to the wind, often producing small, drifting yellow clouds in the nearby air and sneezes in nearby noses. The wind has the job of making sure that some pollen finds eagerly awaiting female flowers. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 3,2024.)

In the Right Place: Tow Holds

Status: Yesterday’s miserable April blizzard has turned into today’s miserable April shower with temperatures in the mid-30s (F) and the prediction of more mixed snow. We still have no pole power and are relying on generator.

Image: Too much rain and snow and too many freezes and thaws have pitted and cracked our many unpaved and winding lanes and long driveways this year. One of the most practical devices for giving these narrow byways the delicate maintenance that they need is an old, towed grader such as the one shown here working on Tuesday. These graders can be towed by a truck, tractor, or even horses if necessary.

Towed graders are not as easy to operate as it might appear. The stand-up operator needs to have excellent eye-hand coordination to continuously manipulate the two wheels that control the height and angle of the blade. Good balance also helps. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 4, 2023.)

In the Right Place: Blizzard Report

Well, I just came back from a little jaunt into our ongoing spring blizzard and experienced a near white-out at one point. We lost pole power early in the morning and have been on generator since. I can say with great confidence that I would much prefer a traditional April rain shower at this time of year.

As I write, my computer tells me that it’s 33°(F) with wind gusts (sometimes sleety) of 23 miles per hour in Brooklin. So far, we’ve got about four inches of snow on the ground here on the coast. As you see, it’s wet snow that can build up on tree branches and cause them to bend to the breaking point.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 4, 2024.)

In the Right Place: At the Creation

Yesterday, our bogs and surrounding lowlands remained wonderfully watery. You could wade through reflected clouds there and stand over the reflected sun:

Beautiful abstract montages were being continuously created and dissolved:

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 2, 2024.)

In the Right Place: No Shame

Yesterday, spring was in the air and maybe elsewhere, including our north field shown here. Maybe it’s my run-away imagination triggered by my overactive optimism gland, but I’m seeing slight hints of green in the khaki-colored fields here. Soon, green shoots and wildflower buds clearly will be spreading on the field and painted turtles will be rising in the pond.

But first, weather tellers say, we, the green shoots, buds, and turtles are going to have to delay our plans and endure a blizzard at midweek that could deposit more than a foot of snow on that field (and our driveway). Old Man Winter has had no shame since he contracted Climate Change. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 1, 2024.)

March Postcards From Down East Maine

March Madness this year included much more than college basketball here. It was a time for brilliant sun; torrential rain; damaging floods; super-high tides; murky fogs; unexpected snows; high winds; freezing and thawing ice, a Presidential primary vote, St. Patrick’s Day; the closing of scallop-dragging season; the opening of glass eel season; the beginning of spring (the vernal equinox); the beginning of the geese migrations; Easter, and a full moon that is unfortunately called the Worm Moon.

Let’s begin our review of the transitional month with cheerful scenes of this March’s good side, its sun and blue skies over our local bays and ponds.

March’s varied moods created special effects in the bogs, including large, plunging rain drops that created water spouts and bubbles, as well as floating targets.

Local piers pointed to sun-dazzled islands, foggy islands, and islands under siege of significant storms.

Our March woods were easy to roam under blue skies and through dappled sun, but a bit tricky when various snow flurries arrived without notice.

This March will probably set precipitation records. The downfalls engorged our wooded streams, large and small, and our culverts were working at capacity to prevent road flooding (which was not always prevented).

Incidentally, speaking of precipitation, our rain chain “downspout” seemed to become schizophrenic during all of the freezing and thawing:

The March flora was more reserved than our streams and rain chain. The American holly, skunk cabbage spathes, and ancient apple trees actually remained quite attractive throughout the month, especially when snow-dappled. Alder catkins and rhododendron buds also made decent spring appearances.

On the commercial waterfront, March was the last month of the scallop dredging (“dragging”) season, which was interrupted several times by significant storms and heavy fog. However, some of our handsome fleet sat for their portraits when the sun came out. So did a rogue scallop shell caught in March.

While March was the end of the scallop-dragging season, it was the beginning of the glass eel (aka elver) season. These migrating baby American eels from the Sargasso Sea are funnel-netted in rivers and at the mouths of streams as they travel to the lakes and ponds where their parents matured.

Recreational boats remained warm in their sheds while their mooring gear iced up outside during the month. Here you see three March scenes from the WoodenBoat School campus.

As for March wildlife, the month is when Canada Geese begin to migrate here from the south. Some will stay for the summer and breed here, others will continue on up to their namesake country.

Our resident white-tailed deer were never fazed by March’s tantrums. As you’ll see below, they even held pajama parties in pouring rain and didn’t pay attention to the cold and snow. That’s because they’re still wearing their winter wonder-coats. (It’s raining steadily in the first two images.)

March calendar events included a Presidential primary on the 5th; St. Patrick’s Day on the 17th; the vernal equinox on the 19th; the Full Worm Moon on the foggy night of the 25th, and Easter on the 31st. (By the way, that’s our heroic Christmas Amaryllis below, which kept blooming long enough to become our Easter Amaryllis.)

Finally, although March sunsets and afterglows usually are not among the best that we see, this March sunset warmed the heart while the hands froze.

(All images except the St. Patrick’s Day banner were taken in Down East Maine during March of 2024. That banner photo, a Leighton Archive image taken here in a prior March, was again posted on March 17 of this year.)