In the Right Place: The Early Bird

Here’s one of our earliest migrators. He’s an irrepressible Eastern phoebe (Sayornes phoebe). And, as the saying almost goes, the early bird gets the bug.  He’s one of a pair that I first saw last week. (Sex assumed for narration; only phoebes can tell their males from females and both sexes sing.)

Note that this little phoebe is all slimmed out and eager after just having caught his breakfast.  (Is that a grub?) However, his nearby mate remained puffed up and kept a wary – but not alarmed – eye on me:

(It was cold, she apparently wasn’t ready to use up energy needlessly, and I was a good distance away with a 500mm lens. .)

These two are “flycatchers,” a group of birds that have the amazing ability to catch flying insects on the wing. Phoebes often sit upright on a twig and bob their tails while identifying themselves with a very raspy “FEEE-BEEE” song to make sure that we at least identify their species correctly. They’re not shy; they often build their nests on or near human residences and under bridges. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 25, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Seasonal Change, Waterfront Version

It’s spring break time for the fishermen around here. The masts and booms for scallop dredging (“dragging”) mostly have been removed and clean-up time has arrived. Compare this image of Fishing Vessel “Tarrfish” as she looked last week, with her dragging self at the end of February:

The Maine scallop dragging season officially ended March 27 and the scallop diving season ended April 20. Note that “Tarrfish” still has her international diving boat flag up for April diving. Her owner and captain, David Tarr, is one of the few hardy divers in Maine who don a wet suit and air tank and hand-harvest the more expensive “divers’ scallops” from the sea bottom during winter.

Summer lobstering is next. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 24 and February 27, 2024.)

In the Right Place: O’ Nest Report III

All seemed to have gone well this week.

From what I’ve seen, during the breeding season, mature female ospreys usually don’t hunt for themselves. They eat fish brought to the family nest by their wide-ranging mates. They spend most of their time on that nest or on a nearby perch within sight of the nest, waiting for their mate to bring home dinner and/or turn the event into a conjugal visit.

When alone and hungry, breeding females often engage in what is called “begging,” a loud and high-itched series of short pleadings. When begging, they sometimes also shake their bodies like nestlings that want to be fed. There seems to be a good correlation between this activity and hunger, but there also are indications that begging can relate to the urge to mate (a process in which timing can be important).

Above, you see Harriet begging this week. She was in her favorite old birch near the nest and Ozzie was nowhere in sight. When Ozzie shows up with a fish, he usually goes directly to the nest and drops it there, even if Harriet is elsewhere. When he shows up without food and Harriet is perched near the nest, he has at times perched near her and waited for her to return to the nest with him:

And then, they usually copulate at this time of year. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 23 and 25, 2024.)

In the Right Place: A Small Celebration

Happy Arbor Day for those who celebrate the federally-designated day and for those in the numerous states that have designated the last Friday in April as the day to celebrate (and preferably plant) trees. (“Arbor” derives from the Latin word for tree and, of course, tress are among the world’s most important resources.)

However, Maine, the Pine Tree State that contains many trees, has chosen to postpone the event to May for reasons that I’ll probably discuss in my May newspaper column. Nonetheless, let’s now have a small celebration of the attractive red maple tree flower clusters that are appearing.

Red maples (Acer rubrum) can produce all female flowers, all male flowers, and a little of each on a tree, and they all appear in early spring before the trees’ leaves sprout. The female blossoms, such as these shown here, have stigmas extending beyond the petals to catch pollen from the male flowers:

The males have long stamens covered with yellowish pollen, as shown below:

That pollen is transported by the wind to the female stamens and elsewhere as many sensitive eyes and noses are finding out lately. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 25, 2024.)

In the Right Place: The Lessers Are Smaller and Fewer

Sandpipers are once again bringing their fascinating frenzies back to our waters’ edges. Here you see what appears to be a trio of Lesser Yellowlegs (Tringa flavipes) resting in Great Cove, perhaps after a long flight.

They’re smaller versions of – you guessed it – Greater Yellowlegs, with slightly shorter and (sometimes) straighter beaks than their cousins. However, the two species are difficult to identify when they are not intermingled and I’m guessing at these because they appeared small.

The Lessers are also the “fewers” compared to the Greaters. The smaller versions are listed as a Species of Special Concern in Maine. They were hunted extensively in the 19th Century and served as popular tasty tidbits then. They apparently never recovered to their original numbers. Let’s hope a few keep coming back here. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 23, 2024.)

In the Right Place: In the Pink

The April full moon rose here yesterday evening out of the east-southeast like a slow spotlight searching for us through the spruce trees surrounding our house.

It eventually found us as it rose above the woods and over Great Cove. It was soaring about 247,555 miles away from Earth, which is a little farther than the average of 238,900 miles, according to lunar reports.

The April full moon is called the “Pink Moon.” That’s the name reportedly given to it by some eastern Native American tribes because its rising coincided with the blooming of pink wildflowers, according to The Old Farmers' Almanac. The Maine Farmers' Almanac reportedly was first to identify those flowers as herb moss creeping phlox (Phlox subulate). (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 23, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Small Worlds

You never know what you’re going to find around here. This small, stylish structure recently appeared in a field a mile or so down the road from us and had me wondering whether elves were entering our real estate market.

Then, a new little couple moved into that place and turned out to be very friendly, but with a lot of face hair (which isn’t unusual in Maine). What is unusual, however, is that they’re a pair of miniature donkeys, a type of good neighbor that I didn’t know existed until recently.  The donkeys are named Grommit and Wallace and they’re pets:

From what I read, these animals are a distinct breed of donkey that originated in Sardinia and Sicily. They’re strong for their size, which usually is about three feet tall and 200-450 pounds in weight. They historically walked in circles to turn grain-grinding stones and transported supplies in rough terrain. They’ve apparently become popular pets in the U.S., although I doubt whether many apartments would allow them.  (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 21 and 22, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Coronations

Here you see Mount Desert Island, Maine’s largest Island, making its own weather again. When moving air encounters the mountains on MDI, it swoops up, cools down, and often condenses out water vapor that forms a crown of clouds.

Frequently, it’s pillowing cumulus clouds, such as those here, that are formed there across Blue Hill and Jericho Bays. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 21, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Rise and Shine

Our Eastern painted turtles (Chrysemys picta picta) have been rising from their murky winter hideaways and trying to soak up some sun:

I’m guessing that this one is a male because of its relatively long and substantial tail. Female PTs, although larger in total body than males, have shorter, stubbier tails to facilitate mating.

Being cold-blooded (“ectothermic”), the turtles’ body temperatures are determined by their environment. They must maintain an internal temperature of between 63 and 73 degrees (F) to be active, according to reports. Basking in the sun, especially on a surface that warms up below them, is a principal way that PTs and other cold-blooded animals can maintain enough heat to be active.

In PTs, the heat that they absorb increases their metabolism, helps them digest, and induces males to produce sperm, researchers have found. The sunlight reportedly also strengthens their shells, attacks algae that can cause infection, and enables turtles to produce vitamin D 3, which is needed for the absorption of calcium used in structural growth. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 19, 2024.)

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.)