In the Right Place: Good Grief!

It’s time to report on one of the specimen trees that I monitor here. This is the iconic weeping beech at Amen Farm and it appears robustly healthy:

I’m told that it was one of two planted in front of the house there about 1950, but that one had to be removed due to crowding. (Was that removal “tree-ahge” [triage]? Sorry.)

As tree-weeping goes, this beech’s grief must be inconsolable. Some might say it’s throwing a tantrum because it’s gotten a bad haircut, that upside-down flat-top pruning job. However, the tree has sported it for many years without apparent incident and many of us have gotten used to it.

As with most mature weeping beeches (Fagus sylvatica, 'Pendula'), this tree is wider than it is tall. My very rough estimate is that it is about 80-90 feet wide and 45-50 feet tall. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on July 12, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Good News

We’re starting to see a fair number of North American (migrating) monarch butterflies on common milkweed blossoms lately, such as this male.

(Only males have a small, dark bump in a vein on each of their hindwings. These two “androconal patches” contain pheromones that attract females.) Here’s a female:

It seems that this long-distance commuter is not as threatened as once thought. Last fall, the International Union for Conservation of Nature moved the monarch from its red “Endangered” list down to its “Vulnerable” list and said that it could lower the warning to “Near Threatened” if planned studies indicate that the population is stable or growing.

The primary concern is that common milkweed is disappearing due to land development. That plant is a favorite of many polinators, including bees:

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on July 15, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Shame

When Brooklinites travel north on Route 175, they come to a sharp curve at High Street and see this scene on the right:

It’s memorable for three reasons. First, architecturally, the larger structure is a classic New England connected farmhouse that is over 100 years old.

Second, historically, the place has a local and perhaps national heritage. Locally, the house apparently was first owned by Mattie L. and Erastus J. Candage, shown with their large family in this old image:

It was sold (apparently before 1918 when Erastus died) to Edna and Howard Pervear, and Edna ran the North Brooklin Post Office out of a room there for many years.

In 1933 – here comes the national aspect – famous author E.B. White and famous New Yorker editor Katherine White bought a house nearby and used that Post Office to ship and receive manuscripts that became world-famous works.

Third, socio-economically, the house has been abandoned and deteriorating slowly for quite some time. This is not rare in Maine, where restoring such old houses to the point that they can be insured and become mortgage-eligible is too costly for most people. These houses die a bit each day like wounded beasts that refuse to fall down; then, the roof or a wall will finally give in and they’ll tumble down and become indistinguishable jumbles of wood and pipes.

It's a shame, but who can you blame? (Primary image taken in North Brooklin, Maine, on July 12, 2024; undated historic photo from the Brooklin Keeping Society.)

In the Right Place: On “Civilization”

We need to be more like daylilies, to collectively reach out of the darkening ditch and find the light that we need to become what we could be.

(Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on July 12, 2024.)

In the Right Place: O’ Nest Report X

There was an important week at the Osprey Nest, the summer home of our local fish hawk couple, Ozzie and Harriet. I was able to photographically confirm that there are three osprey nestlings, as suspected.

The third red-eyed youngster is no longer hiding in the deep bottom of the nest. She’s been named June, the month of her birth, under our protocol. From left to right in the following image, you’ll see June, Ricky, David, and Harriet, the proud Mom:

Harriet leaves the nest frequently now that she doesn’t have to brood over her chicks. Not only does she need to stretch her wings from time to time, but she gathers moss and branches to do housekeeping in her large penthouse above Great Cove.

I tried to figure out Ozzie’s daily schedule for bringing fish home. I’m now convinced he has none. Maybe his delivery service is dependent on when the fish are running close to the surface in the Cove and Eggemoggin Reach. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on July 12, 2024.)

In the Right Place: The Fawns of Summer

This image of a white-tailed deer fawn appears in my monthly column in the current Ellsworth American. To read the column about the dangers and joys that summer fawns experience, click here: https://www.5backroad.com/montly-column

In the Right Place: Windjammer Watch IX

That smells like bacon cooking. The passengers on the schooner Mary Day woke up to a fine breakfast early yesterday morning after overnighting in Great Cove. This was Mary’s second visit to Great Cove this year. She was on a three-day lighthouse cruise, according to her schedule.

The fog was lifting, but the morning was to be a hot and hazy one. Mary’s weather tarp was left in place to shade against the burning sun:

As usual, several boatloads of Mary’s passengers toured the famed WoodenBoat School campus on shore and returned in a yawl boat. Meanwhile, Mary was visited by WoodenBoat’s 20-foot Caledonia yawl, Swifty, which was being rowed. As you can tell from Mary’ drooping flag, there was no wind:

Eventually, Mary’s mainsail was raised, followed by her foresail, then her main topsail:

There was virtually no wind, and the schooner has no cruising motor. No more sails were raised and Mary was pushed out of the Cove by her yawl boat, her sails slack.

As regular readers here know, she’s a 125-foot schooner out of Camden, Maine. She has very clean coastal cruiser lines, but was built in 1962 just for passenger cruises. She was named after the wife of the late Captain Havilah Hawkins, Senior, who designed the vessel and owned her for about 20 years.

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

In the Right Place: Web Site

Halloween came early yesterday morning in the form of this dew-laden spider web, which appeared to be about three feet at its longest point:

This masterpiece of engineering and construction is even more astonishing when you consider that the top of that spruce that you see is about 40 feet high. And the web’s anchoring lines among three trees were 20 or more feet long. (Image taken from a 2nd floor window.)

This is most likely the creation of an orb-weaving spider, although a few other spider species make similar webs. From what I’ve read and seen, the spider usually floats a line on the wind to another surface, such as a branch. It fastens the line and then floats another line from its center to another surface, making a "Y." It then lays in the remaining scaffolding radii made of non-sticky silk to climb on. When done, it uses this framework to repeat the process with a sticky silk spiral to capture prey, leaving a few non-sticky lines to move on.

(Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on July 9, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Treasure Chest

For the visually oriented boat lover, there are few places that can match Naskeag Harbor at sundown on a still evening. The working harbor turns into a closing treasure chest of glistening lobster boats, highlighted fishing paraphernalia, reflections of shearing hulls on black waters, and shadows snuffing out the glowing trees on Harbor Island:

On occasion, such as this one, the lowering sun finds and spotlights a lone fisherman in a rowboat, slowly trolling through dark waters:

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

In the Right Place: Decisions

It was darkening and sometimes rainy when we reached the mouth of Patten Stream Saturday. The falls were churning. The rock ledges were a shadowy backdrop, highlighted with occasional splatters of orange lichen or green moss and grass. A stationary great blue heron stood at the edge of the roaring water, apparently deciding whether to wade into the little maelstrom to get within striking distance of the fish that occasionally tumbled to the surface there.

She decided that it was worth the chance and slowly entered the water on the slippery rocks, using her massive wings as balancing umbrellas.

It didn’t work and she took off. But she didn’t fly away.

She flew up to a rocky ledge above and climbed down to the water’s edge on the other side of the Stream.

Unlike many good stories, this one has no dramatic ending, but it has no sad one either. The heron did not reenter the stream, nor did she catch a fish. But she seemed content just to be there and watch the stream, as were we.

(Images taken in Surry, Maine, on July 6, 2024; the bird’s sex was assumed.)

In the Right Place: Midsummer Morning’s Dreams

We’ve been getting a lot of fog lately. At times, it can be dreamlike, especially at familiar border areas. Where fixed land and infinite water meet, impenetrable fog can seem to show us eternity:

Where garden ends and woods begin, sifting fog can help us remember the impermanence of paradise:

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on July 5 and 6, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Harbor Watch

The Naskeag Harbor convenience raft, shown here, has been in business for a few days. It’s operators not only buy just-caught lobsters from the fishermen, they sell the fishermen fuel and bait.

Seeing the differing fishing vessels coming in, cleaning up, and mooring in the late morning or early afternoon is a satisfying sight.  At least I can see one part of this world that appears to be running the way it should.

Of course, few get to see the vessels going out to haul traps in the shadowy early morning hours, which is another fine sight. I get up early, but not THAT early anymore. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on July 2, 2024.)

In the Right Place: How to Celebrate July 4

The annual Brooklin, Maine, 4th of July celebration is not a Taylor-Swift-like thing. Tickets don’t cost over $1,000, nor do 96,000 people attend. Come to think of it, there are no tickets for the Brooklin celebration. Everyone is invited, anyone may perform, and hundreds come to be part of small town family friendliness and fun, which is a priceless, disappearing experience.

There usually are three major stages to the Brooklin celebration: The Band, the Parade, and the Gathering at the Green. This year, there was light rain early in the morning, but it stopped just in time. The show went on, but umbrellas were ready.

As usual, the surprisingly good Brooklin Town Band met under the tall maples in front of the Friend Memorial Public Library. They filled the Town Center with music that made everyone walk a little lighter and sometimes uncontrollably burst into song.

The parade was led by a Brooklin Fire Department vehicle, followed by a contingent of fire fighters in dress uniforms. After that, as usual, things got — How shall I say it? — “eclectic” might be the word. But, I’ll let you decide by showing below images of the parade in the order of its flow. Unfortunately, space doesn’t allow for images of all participants.

(Phew! Yes, “eclectic” will work.) After the parade-ending fire truck, everyone gathered on the nearby Town Green, where the just-seen classic cars were displayed, games for children were played, community groups dispensed information, and good food was served and eaten under large tents.

The Brooklin Food Corps, which promotes the growth and consumption of local food, had a stand and the Rockweed Forum, which seeks to protect that plant from improper harvesting, had a table.

The games included the ever-popular “Dead Chicken Toss” (at a hole in a panel) and “Wet Sponge Toss” (at a neighbor). There also was very miniature golf for very miniature people and the difficult pole climb contest, which attracted a lot of fit kids and an appreciative audience that cheered the straining climbers.

It was a happy day. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on July 4, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Windjammer Watch IX

Here you see the 110-foot Stephen Taber in Great Cove at dawn yesterday after overnighting there:

She departed impressively about 10:30 a.m. yesterday with both principal sails up and two jibs flying. This was her third visit to the Cove this year.

The Taber is a good example of a traditional 19th Century Maine coastal cruiser – flat-bottomed, centerboard, no motor. She was launched in 1871 and hails from Rockland, Maine, now. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on July 3, 2024.) Happy Independence Day!

In the Right Place: Windjammer Watch VIII

Here you see the 90-foot American Eagle in Great Cove at dawn yesterday after overnighting there. She’s a high-riding, fast schooner with very clean lines.

This was her second visit to the Cove this year. She departed dramatically about 11:30 a.m. yesterday by wending her way through a WoodenBoat School sailing class of 12 ½-footers:

The Eagle is on a four-night trip that will include a windjammer fleet get-together on July 4 and participation in Maine’s annual Great Schooner Race in Rockland (her home port)  on July 5, according to her schedule. “Last year,” her website modestly reports, “we won not only our class but the overall race!  We’ll try to repeat that this season ….” Good Luck Eagle. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on July 2, 2024.)

In the Right Place: O’ Nest Report IX

There was a waiting game going on this week at the Osprey Nest, the summer home of our local fish hawk couple, Ozzie and Harriet. The red-eyed nestlings are still growing their feathers and need to be sheltered from intensive sun by Harriet. On Sunny days, I mostly just see her crouching in the nest with wings apart, playing the role of a feathered beach umbrella.

Above and below, you see Harriet and her first born, David, who is much more active and demanding than his brother, Ricky. I have not been able to confirm that there is a third nestling, although Harriet’s activities sometimes appear as if there is. Most of the time, I only see David. He’s not exactly a beauty yet, but he’ll lose his prehistoric looks soon.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on July 1, 2024.)

June Postcards From Down East Maine

June was sweet and friendly this year. She brought many beautiful summer days, some significant fogs, a few gray days and some rainy ones, but no vicious storms, floods, or heatwaves. We slid into summer with an easy spectacularity.

I mentioned fog. This June brought us some of the foggiest days I’ve ever seen. But, fogs can seem to conjure ancient spirits, especially a soft fog in the woods and a now-you-see-it/now-you-don’t fog on the water:

We’ll come back to the waterfront, but let’s first remember that June is the birth month of many wild animals, especially birds. I have good news and bad news to report on two nests that I monitored.

It was a joyous June in the Osprey Nest, the home of our local fish hawk couple, Ozzie and Harriet. Once again, they produced at least two nestlings and possibly a third that has stayed hidden low in the nest so far. Harriet remained mostly in the nest shading and feeding the youngsters and Ozzie dutifully delivered fresh fish to the family daily.

Unfortunately, however, June was a bad month for Wendy, the black-throated green warbler that I’ve written about. She would fly off her little (3-inch diameter) nest from time to time, which allowed me to see that she was incubating four tiny, speckled eggs. One day, I saw her discovered by a pair of blustering blue jays, which I shooed away. I’ll leave it up to you to imagine what happened to her eggs and nest after I left the area. I never saw her again.

But, in the same area as Wendy’s nest, I did witness a small (5-inch) brown creeper feeding her even smaller fledgling on the side of a spruce tree. Life goes on.

I should mention a concern. It appears that we keep getting fewer great blue herons returning in May and June to breed. It’s believed that the increasing bald eagle population here is driving the GBHs elsewhere. Nonetheless, the few that I saw hunting in the ponds here during June were as dramatic as ever.

Speaking of ponds, June is when the painted turtles arise from the murky depths to bask sedentarily and the dragonflies hatch to patrol the water edges frantically.

I should note that our white-tailed deer started to wear their summer clothes in June. Some deer completed the transition into their slick reddish coats; others were still in molt, and still others — the smallest of them — were trying out their first fur.

On the recreational waterfront, six windjammers visited Great Cove during June, two of them multiple times. Below, in varying weather, you’ll see the following visiting coastal cruisers: American Eagle, Angelique, Capt. Frank Swift, Ladona, Mary Day, and Stephen Taber. You’ll also see Ladona and Stephen Taber sleeping together, but don’t tell anyone.

On the educational waterfront, the famed WoodenBoat School started its classes during June, no matter what the weather. When classes were in session, Great Cove was alive with sailing and kayaking and the shops buzzing with boatbuilding and other marine-oriented activity.

On the working waterfront, June is the month when many of our fishing vessels start their summer lobstering season — trailering traps to Naskeag Harbor, loading them on the boats, setting them in the water, and darting from trap to trap to haul them up and remove their delicious contents.

As far as wild and cultivated flora are concerned, June arrivals that were interesting and/or beautiful were too numerous to give anywhere near a complete account. We’ll be selective. As to the wild flora, we’ll start with waterlilies and then show (in order) the following: starflower and bunchberry; hawkweed, yellow and orange; oxeye daisy and butter-and-eggs; blue flag and yellow flag wild iris; flowering and fading lupines; day lilies and Queen Anne’s lace; American honeysuckle and beach rose, and , finally, field mustard

In the June gardens, the select pairings that we’ve chosen for Postcards are (in order) as follows: purple and white lilacs; viburnum and rhododendron; allium buds and blooms; poppies in a breeze; two poppy “portraits”; two peony “portraits,” and Barbara’s arrangement of peonies.

In addition to the summer solstice, June is best known for celebrating dads, grandads, and great granddads on Father’s day. Fatherly love can include the difficult task of explaining how the world works.

Finally, the June moon is known as the strawberry moon, especially when it is full. However, this year, there was too much overcast to “shoot” the moon in all its fullness. But there were several occasions when we had a revealed morning moon and a mysterious ovoid evening moon.

(All images in this post were taken in Down East Maine, in June of 2024.)

In the Right Place: Meistersinger

We have a pair of song sparrows that live in the field by our garden. The male sings almost all the time during the dawn and dusk hours on good days. (In rain and fog, not so much.)

He will perform anywhere in his small territory where he can find a stage – even a lupine stalk that bobs up and down as he throws his head back and belts out one after another of his many proven hits. Those are hits as judged by his mate, who seems very happy.

Studies have reported that female song sparrows are most attracted to males of the species that have the largest repertoires. Some males have been known to sing more than 2000 different songs. I think that the master singer shown here would fall into that category. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on June 11, 2024.

In the Right Place: Slogan-Worthy

Yesterday, Great Cove could have been used to illustrate some of Maine’s immodest summer slogans, such as “America’s Vacationland” and “Maine: The Way Life Should Be.”

It was sunny, but cool; there were brisk sea breezes, but nothing that would scare a sailor.  Which was good, because WoodenBoat School sailing students and others were out on the waters in force, perhaps inspiring another slogan: “Maine: The Way Sailing Should Be.” Here you see some of the WBS small boats water-bugging in the Cove yesterday morning:

On the left, those are three 121/2-footers (two Havens and a Herreshoff, I think); on the right with red sails, that’s an18.8-foot Mackinaw ketch slashing by. Note the different uses of the sails: In the same patch of North-Northwest wind (coming basically from the right of the image), one sailboat was sailing south (to the left); two were sailing north, and one was sailing west, roughly speaking.  

As for the east, a nearby 16-foot WBS catboat was at this time sailing roughly east, while a WBS kayak class headed Southwest:

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on June 28, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Poppies on Parade

Our poppies have been numerous and magnificent this year. Here you see two during the light rain that we had yesterday morning:

The day before yesterday, the poppies were waiving in the breezes. There’s a wildness to these plants that seems to reflect their ancient benefits and dangers.

The common names for the basic poppy are “the opium poppy” or “the bread seed poppy,” and their scientific name apparently is Paver somniferum. The plant’s seeds have been ground into meal, pressed into oil, or otherwise used for foods for centuries. The opium and other alkaloids of poppies are used primarily by pharmaceutical companies to create powerful drugs; but, of course, then there is the significant illicit opium market.

As for their ornamental gardening use, there reportedly now are more than 70 species of poppy, in a wide range of colors and shapes. Many garden poppies are bred to reduce opium content to insignificant levels, according to the literature.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on June 27 and 26, 2024.)