In the Right Place: Getting an Earful

When I looked quickly into the viewfinder to take this image, it appeared for a second that I had got me a four-eared fawn:

But, no; it was just the usual playful twins that come through here with their mom at about dawn every three days or so:

Research indicates that older white-tailed does usually birth twin fawns and sometimes triplets. Yearling does usually give birth to one fawn. Fawns average about six to eight pounds at birth, and will weigh about 60-70 pounds by their first winter. Does nurse their fawns about 4 times a day as newborns and will continue nursing them for about 4 months, according to state wildlife reports.

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

In the Right Place: Full Time

This is yesterday’s July full moon, shown here rising over Great Cove; it traditionally is called the “Buck Moon.” This name reportedly was given it because male deer (bucks) in full antlers are often seen at this time. It’s a bit misleading, at least with respect to the white-tailed deer that we have around here.

Modified image: moon inserted lower to fit in frame

Every report that I’ve seen, not to mention what I’ve witnessed, indicates that white-tail antler development usually is not completed until late August or early September, when blood stops flowing to the antlers and the protective velvet there is sloughed or rubbed off.

Nonetheless, as with all full moons, they appear to the unaided human eye to be full a day or two before and after the official date, when scientifically-measured luminosity is virtually 100 percent (e.g., 99.8%). This year, that apparent fullness was significant because Saturday, the day before the official full moon, was the 55th anniversary of the first mission that humans landed on the moon, the Appollo 11 lunar landing.

On that Saturday, July 20, the moon appeared full and rose into a Halloween sky filled with racing clouds that were back-lit by the moon. It was quite a dramatic anniversary for the Appollo 11 mission:

During the past few days, the moon has been a little more than 230,000 miles away. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on July 20 and 21, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Sneak Preview

The renowned Brooklin Boat Yard is doing sea trials on this virtually completed custom-built luxury yacht. Named “Syntax,” it’s a 55-footer commissioned by the Wheeler Yacht Company of Chapel Hill, N.C. The expectation is that the vessel will be christened and launched officially before August.

This vessel is designed to be a high-tech version of the famous Wheeler luxury vessels of the golden age of yachting in the first half of the 20th Century. (You may have heard of Ernest Hemmingway’s beloved “Pilar,” a Wheeler 38’ on which he wrote “The Old Man and the Sea” and revolutionized sport fishing. She was built for Hemmingway by Wheeler in 1934.) It also will be an example of outstanding American workmanship.

According to the Yacht Company, this new Wheeler 55’ is a cold-molded wooden vessel featuring African mahogany, with Douglas fir structural elements and teak decks. It will be driven by 850 HP i6 MAN engines (with the option to upgrade to MAN V8-1000 engines) and twin straight shaft propellers; the yacht will cruise at 25 knots. Features like the synchronized joystick controls with bow and stern thrusters will ensure easy docking, while the Seakeeper gyro stabilizer and Zipwake systems will provide a smooth and stable ride.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on July 18, 2024.) See also the image in the first Comment space. Thanks to Barbara Wyeth for the tip.

In the Right Place: To Bee or Not to Bee

Look closely and you’ll see a hoverfly (and its shadow) showing why it got that name:

These insects also are known as drone flies and flower flies. This one appears to be a green lucent fly (Didea alneti) that’s less than one-half an inch long. It’s in the process of deciding whether to visit the working parts of a poppy. These are true flies (Diptera) that have interesting characteristics.

They can hover virtually still except for their high-speed wings; they apparently can hold an in-air position better than all or most other insects and even hummingbirds. This may be part of a complex defensive system that makes it difficult to notice them.

But, if noticed. most hoverflies are designed to scare – they’re banded to mimic bees, hornets and other insects that can sting. Yet, hoverflies can’t sting. When they sense danger (like a looming photographer), they also can buzz like a bee or hornet. Most significant to the big nature picture is the fact that hoverflies are very important pollinators in the propagation of flora. 

As a bonus, I’m adding below an image of another important banded pollinator approaching a favorite food source, common milkweed:

It’s a tri-colored bumblebee (Bombus ternarius). And, it can deliver not only a painful sting, it can sting repeatedly. Unlike honeybees, bumble bee workers’ stingers have no harpoon-like barbs at their ends that remain imbedded in a victim, which disembowels the stinging honeybees. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on July 15 (bee) and 17 (fly), 2024.)

In the Right Place: Windjammer Watch X

The Schooner Lewis R. French entered Great Cove at mid-afternoon Wednesday, which was a hot and hazy day. She first anchored off Babson Island, where passengers went ashore and explored, lolled on the beach, and a few went swimming in the 64-degree water. Later, a lobster bake was held there.

After a delicious dinner on Babson, the passengers re-boarded the French for a short trip of about 200 yards, so that the schooner could anchor close to the WoodenBoat School dock and float. It rained that night and into the foggy morning. The schooner kept her weather tarp up most of the morning. Nonetheless, several boatloads of the passengers were ferried ashore to explore the WBS campus and then return to the French for the rest of their cruise.

Soon the weather tarp was taken down and sails and anchor raised with the help of the passengers. Her mainsail, main topsail, and foresail were raised. There was virtually no wind, but the sun started to try to break through the overcast. It was one of those mornings when beams of sunlight came and went, sometimes creating intriguing reflections that lasted only minutes.

The French has no internal motor, so her powerful yawlboat was lashed to her stern as an outboard motor and she headed out of the Cove to the north. She might have been on her way to see nearby Pumpkin Island Lighthouse; her schedule says that she was on a four-night lighthouse tour..

The 101-foot French was launched in 1871 out of Christmas Cove, Maine. She was built there by the French brothers and named after their father. In her youth, her life was varied and hard. Among other things, she freighted bricks, granite, fish, lime, firewood, and Christmas trees, and at one time experienced a fire that nearly destroyed her. Now, the French is a classic cruiser out of Camden, Maine.

The schooner J&E Riggin also anchored Wednesday night in Great Cove and departed the next day. She arrived late and departed early on Thursday in the rain without raising a sail:

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on July 17 and 18, 2024.)

In the Right Place: O’ Nest Report XI

Yesterday morning was one of the most important times of the year at The Osprey Nest, the summer home of the fish hawk couple known as Ozzie and Harriet – their first two born this year, David and Ricky, fledged out of the nest within a few minutes of each other, leaving young June as the only nestling Here you see the beginning of the daring departure:

It was a gusty morning. Both of the “boys” were constantly flapping their wings in the breezes, while the much smaller June seemed to be wondering what was happening. Then, David (the oldest and largest) seemed to make up his mind and moved to the edge of the nest as his mom, Harriet, watched. He took off into the wind and peeled down behind the nest where I couldn’t see him:

Harriet soon took off after David:

Then, Ricky did the same thing as David did while his mom was gone. Harriet was quite excited when she returned alone, calling loudly. Ozzie came in response to the calls, but didn’t seem surprised and June still seemed to trying to figure out what was happening.

I saw and heard two ospreys that appeared to be David and Ricky soaring high over Great Cove shortly thereafter. It always amazes me when ospreys fledge like this by instinct – no driving instructor, no video study, just flap-flap-feels-fine, and up and away. Soon it will be June’s turn, and I have no doubt that she’ll do well. After all, in the fall, they’ll all be expected to travel alone to Florida or south of there without a GPS device.

In the meantime, life in Maine will progress. One thing that immature ospreys apparently can’t do by instinct is plummet dive for fish. They seem to have to learn how to do that on trips with their parents, especially their father. This means that they’ll be returning to the nest for awhile to feed on Ozzie’s daily deliveries, learn to hunt, and to make their protective Mom feel good. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on July 17, 2024.

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!