In the Right Place: Mad Dogs and Scientists Go Out in the Midday Sun

Around here, those scientists include purple-panted PhDs such as our good neighbor, David Porter. Here he’s collecting rockweed specimens at low tide in our intertidal zone. (Yes, he asked for permission and received it enthusiastically.)

It’s all part of a survey by the Blue Hill Peninsular Rockweed Forum, which he co-directs with Allison Snow (another sun-defying PhD). Among other things, the Forum advocates for the conservation of intertidal rockweed (Ascophyllum nodosum).

As I understand it, the current survey is being fielded in about 10 sites in the Penobscot Bay area, where the condition, age and growth rates of rockweed will be assessed, among other things. The results should provide further insights into whether and/or how to harvest rockweed to avoid lasting harm.

Here’s an interesting fact provided at a recent lecture by David and Allison: Once it gets well started, rockweed generally forms a single new, egg-shaped air bladder on a growing frond each year.

That means that you can count the spaces (segments) between each bladder on the plant’s primary axis to estimate how many years of bladder-producing growth have passed. You need to be sure that you pick an undamaged frond, which is what David did before collecting each specimen.

David’s trusty sidekick Brody supervised the operation and demonstrated that he wasn’t mad by staying in the shade:

Another interesting (but useless) fact provided by AI: Noel Coward wrote the 1931 satirical song about mad dogs and Englishmen going out in the sun to chide British colonialism. The song apparently was inspired by a comment by Rudyard Kipling. Neither Coward nor Kipling ever said anything clever about rockweed, as far as I know.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on August 6, 2026.)

In the Right Place: Windjammers, IX

Here you see the schooner MARY DAY entering Great Cove in a morning glow yesterday. She was on a 6-day “Capt's Favorite Harbors Cruise,” according to her posted schedule. She stayed a while and left before noon under two mainsails and a topsail, plus a little help from her motorized yawlboat. There was little wind and MARY has no inboard engine:

As MARY was departing, the guests on ANGELIQUE were being rowed to the beach on Babson Island for a sumptuous lunch:

As many of you know, MARY was built in 1962 in South Bristol, Maine, specifically for coastal cruising. She now homeports in Camden, Maine, and can accommodate up to 28 guests. She’s 125 feet long overall (90’ on deck) and, obviously, has no inboard engine. While Great Cove is one of her Captain’s favorites, the feeling is reciprocal with those of us who live near the Cove: MARY is one of our favorites.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on August 6, 2026.)

In the Right Place: In Plane View

We might as well look at another calming scene while we’re at it:

This view is similar to the one that Leslie LeVeque had when he flew his seaplane to rockbound Conary Cove, taxied up a ramp by the boathouse and parked his plane there for all to admire. That was in the 1940s. Things were different then: the boathouse was white and had a significant pier and dock from which sailboats were loaded and the plane fueled. (Image taken on August 2, 2026.)

In the Right Place: Self-Contradictions Drawer

It’s time to calm down with a visual visit to a favorite scene as it enters another August without being invaded by ugly luxury charter yachts or cruise ships. Yes, this is beautiful Blue Hill Bay at the base of Blue Hill in the Town of Blue Hill. The area’s founders seem to have had a fixation issue.

The geographic phenomenon that started all this is not quite 1000 feet high, the required height for being a mountain when it was named Blue Hill. But that rule has been eliminated to allow local people to judge whether they’re living in the shadow of a hill or a mountain. And, of course, some would prefer to be called mountain people rather than hill people. They want to call Blue Hill a mountain, but keep the historic name – as in Blue Hill Mountain.

Seems to me to be self-contradictory, like describing your small daughter as a child adult. But then, I think that I’m a hill person at heart and the area will remain beautiful no matter what we call it –unless invaded by luxury charter yachts or cruise ships, which we’re trying to forget by looking at this image.

(Image taken in Blue Hill, Maine, at Blue Hill Bay on August 2, 2026.)

In the Right Place: Of Beauties and Beasts

Some of us see this scene and think of a beauty pointing at a beast and asking: “Are times changing for the worse?” You see here a classic, svelte Luders 16-foot sailboat pointing at a modern, stout 130-foot luxury charter yacht. And the situation is foggy, to say the least.

Curiously, the owners of these vessels named them similarly, revealing vastly different perspectives on the same subject: The sailboat is named FROLIC; the yacht’s moniker is KING OF FUN. They were in Great Cove over the weekend during the 41st annual Eggemoggin Reach Regatta. (FROLIC is a resident, the KING was visiting.)

The KING was positioned near the finish line of the Regatta, showing his unflattering rear to viewers trying to see the sleek racers as they came in. I believe that this was the KING’s first visit to the Cove and his appearance has become  a catalyst for debate about recent trends in recreational seafaring.

Concern about those trends has been festering here since Maine was discovered by the operators of large cruise ships that can dump great multitudes of tourists into a small town on one visit. Bad as they are, these cruise ships do bring some local economic benefit, and they have many ordinary admirers who consider them to be affordable, floating resorts that provide fun and maybe romance.

You have to wonder about the benefits of the luxury charter yachts, even when they’re made in the U.S. They’re usually chartered by one person or a small number of people; they’re getting bigger and bigger, and they’re coming here more and more, despite the rising prices of fuel.

A concern is that the increase in these luxury charter yachts is an augury of even more influxes of desperately rich people who seem to need a great deal of attention. They also may be part of a more general increase in coarseness in America’s lifestyle, language and leadership. Have we devolved into a world where it’s fashionable to flaunt wealth and deny the truth?

Let’s take a closer look at the KING, based on a quick internet search. First, his transom homeport designation says only “Falmouth,” which might make a Mainer think of the historic Maine coastal town near Portland. Well, the KING’s actual throne is in Falmouth, Jamaica, home of many commercial luxury yachts, some of hard-to-detect ownership. Nonetheless, the KING apparently was built in Anacortes, Washington, and has had at least one refitting in Belfast, Maine.

The KING’s 130-foot length means that he’s at least two standard city buses long. Such combined buses can transport up to 160 passengers, according to available statistics. The KING “offers guest accommodation for up to 10 guests in 5 suites comprising a master suite located on the main deck, one VIP cabin, two double cabins and one twin cabin,” according to her charter website.

Those 10 (or fewer) guests of the KING are offered, among many others, the following amenities: an exterior bar; sun deck; outdoor cinema; Wi-Fi, swimming platform; deck jacuzzi, spa; gym, air conditioning, barbeque equipment, and a Portuguese bridge (protected walkway around the boat). Want to live it up? All of this and more is available to you at a mere $120,000 per month.

 (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on August 2 and 1, 2026.)

In the Right Place: Baby Talk

As you see above, our fawns are getting big and adventuresome, but they’re still wearing their baby spot camouflage, staying within sight of mom,  and bashfully dashing away from photographers and causing blurry images:

White-tailed deer fawns grow amazingly fast. At birth in the spring, they usually weigh between 4 and 10 pounds; by Autumn, they weigh about 85 pounds, according to the research. At 2 to 3 weeks of age, they start supplementing their diet of mothers’ milk with tender vegetation, including growing grasses and wildflowers.

By fall, the fawns will have exchanged their baby spot coats for the plain, heavier winter model and they’ll be eating only adult food alongside mom, including leaves and twigs, as well as grass and wild apples if they can find them.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on August 2, 2026.)

In the Right Place: Views from the Ridge

Here you see Great Cove as a hazy dawn crept over a crowd of sleeping Eggemoggin Reach Regatta racers and their fans yesterday. The 41st annual running of the ERR took place a few hours later and the southern leg of the race also was visible from Great Cove Ridge, where I still had my iPhone handy:

After the sailboats did a U-around down the Reach, they came back and crossed the finish line at Great Cove to the tune of a large honking horn sounding as each vessel arrived. Following that, a banquet and award ceremonies were held on the WoodenBoat Publications and School campus

If I get a chance, I’ll edit and publish some closer (better camera) images of the boats as they came to the finish line. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on August 1, 2026)

July Postcards From Down East Maine

July here on the Maine coast is the beginning of high summer when the state starts to earn its reputation as the nation’s “Vacationland.” This year, there were wild weather swings during the month, including a few days of heat wave (80+° F), chilliness (50° +/-) , and fog. But not enough rain — we returned to moderate drought status. Of course, lack of rain meant more sunny days to “Get Out There!”

THE EVERCHANGING ICONS

As usual, we’ll begin with postcards of the four iconic scenes that we monitor monthly for local records::

The far-sighted July view of the Harbor Island summer house from Naskeag Point

The short-sighted view

Fields, bays and the mountains of Mouint Desert Island under a July sun

Summer lushness surrounds the near-mountain called Blue Hill in July

The rockbound shore of Conary Cove reveals itself during a July low tide

IN THE WATER

Maine’s extraordinarily diverse water activities were on full display in July — big and little boats, sail and power boats, commercial and pleasure boats and boats to paddle.

THE WINDJAMMERS

Maine’s coastal cruisers were out there every day in July. Here are a few of them:

The AMERICAN EAGLE can fly in the fog (but slowly)

ANGELIQUE sleeps with only her rigging on

When ANGELIQUE goes out, however, she really dresses up

LADONA has local fan clubs

Old GRACE BAILEY sleeps while younger MARY DAY gets up for work early

Even STEPHEN TABOR gets sailing lessons

OF SPECIAL NOTE

Some Great Cove visitors, residents and passers-by are worth memorializing.

SIREN, the 1935 racer out of Buzzards Bay, Massachusetts and EROS, the US Virgin Islands schooner that charters in New England during the summer

BOWDOIN, the historic Arctic explorer now a classroom for the Maine Maritime Academy

FROLIC, a classic Luders 16’, resides in Great Cove’s chop and calm

Luxury yachts pass by in Eggemoggin Reach and get snickered at from small boat sailors

LEARNING THE ROPES AT WBS

The way to have fun while learning to sail is to take a small boat out in a sailing class at the renowned WoodenBoat School:

BUILDING, FISHING AND PADDLING

Brooklin Boat Yard, shown at work below, operates a distinctive pier and floating docks in Center Harbor

Brooklin’s Town Dock is in Nakeag Harbor, home of a small fishing fleet

Who says all lobster boats look alike?

Paddling is harder In the whitewater of the Blue Hill Reverse Falls than the calm off Naskeag Point

IN THE WOODS

Although a bit dry underfoot, the July woods were inviting, especially when sun-spackled.

The Mouth of Patten Stream at high and low tides

AT THE PONDS AND STREAMS

Fire pond at the end of a stone wall

Some ponds are chock-full of Water Lilies

FEATURED FAUNA

IN THE FIELDS AND TREES

White-tailed deer doe stands her ground

Harriet proundly displays her apparently only nestling, David, while father Ozzie looks on (Ospreys)

IN THE WOODS AND WATERS

Northern Cardinal about to have breakfast

Herring Gull about to have breakfast

Common Terns about to have breakfast

IN THE MARSHES AND GARDENS

Painted Turtles have to restafter breakfast — and most other times

July’s mini-dragons in flight and at rest (12-Spotted and White-Faced Meadowhawk Dragonflies)

July’s mini-darlings in flight (female Ruby-Throated Hummingbirds)

The month’s hardest workers trophy goes to our bumblenees (Two-Spotted Bumblebee)

Long-distance migrators need plenty of energizing nectar (Monarch Burtrterflies)

The clear-winged hummingbird moth flies with a coiled tongue leading the way

FEATURED FLORA

IN THE WILD

We begin with royaly rising, the matriarch of summer wildflowers, Queen Anne’s Lace:

Some intriguing groupings and singles:

Beach Rose, Beach Rose Hips and the similar Multi-Flora Rose

St. John’s Wort and Steeplebush

Milkweed, Common Mullein and Hawkweed

Sea Lavendar about to bloom purple

Black-Eyed Susan,Ox-Eyed Daisy and dying Star Flower

Tansy and Bunchberry

Orange (Tawny) Daylily

Tiger Lily and Water Lily

Yellow (Lemon) Daylilly

Indian Pipes (a colorless wildflower, not a fungus) behind a wood fern

IN THE GARDEN

Blue and White Lavendar

Bee Balm River

Lanceleaf Coreopsis and Blue Star

Shasta Daisies gleam like the cap of Mt. Shasta, which they’re named after

What popped out all over in July? Yes, Poppies

Clematis on the rise,, Allium on the fade

IN THE HOME

July-blooming Hibiscus are definitely not native Mainers

Barbara likes to bring her garden and wildflowers inside

SPECIAL EVENTS

INDEPENDENCE DAY

I wasn’t able to attend Brooklin’s famous July 4th celebration this year. However, I knosw that these U.S. and Ukranian flags were flying on that day and I saw a yellow street rod that would qualify for the July 4th parade:

BBY LAUNCHING

From the beginning of the year, I reported on the building of the 47-foot Down East cruiser BREAKTHROUGH at the renowned Brooklin Boat Yard. She was set free in July.

In the paint shop for finishing touches during July

Thwhack! An exploding bottle of champagne christens BREAKTHROUGH, a well-recorded moment

BREAKTHROUGH leaves Center Harbor on her first festive cruise

THE FULL MOON

Finallly, we look to the night sky. July’s moon was spectacular in all phases. The July full moon traditionally is called The Buck Full Moon because it rises when male deer (bucks) start growing their antlers. That buck stopped here and I heard a neighbor “howl”at it:

The Buck Moon rising on Great Cove Ridge

Half Moon. Gibbous Moon, Full Moon

Walter, a neighbor who cockle-doodle-dos at the moon

WE’RE HAVING A WONDERFUL TIME — WISH YOU WERE HERE!

(All images in this post were taken in Down East Maine during July of 2026.)

In the Right Place: Professional Secrets Drawer

Outdoor photography is in significant part about luck, good and bad, at least for me. The more you try, the more luck you have, good and bad. You can learn from both.

For example, hurrying home late for lunch recently, I noticed a red flashing in the bushes. I focused a long lens on it and discovered this male Northern Cardinal. I instinctively took this quick, somewhat unusual shot of the handsome guy. I was lucky, good lucky.

A second after shooting, as I was re-slinging the camera, he pounced on something in a great flurry and flew back into the dark woods.  I missed that shot due to bad luck compounded by the sin of impatience. I should have stayed focused on him to see what he was up to.

When I was cropping his image, I noticed for the first time what appears to be a well-camouflaged hornworm caterpillar that the cardinal apparently was about to prey upon in the fast swirl of action that I failed to capture. It would have been a dramatic and satisfying photo. (Satisfying because I’m not a fan of hornworms.)

Hornworm caterpillars are garden pests that turn into sphinx or hawk moths. They especially love to munch on tomato, eggplant and pepper plants. Many birds eat these caterpillars, including mockingbirds, wrens, bluebirds, robins and, of course, cardinals.

Gardeners often pick hornworms off plants and place them on feeders for wild birds; I hear that some gardeners who keep chickens hand-feed the caterpillars to their fowls as squishy treats. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on July 26, 2026.)

In the Right Place: Windjammers, VIII

Here you see the AMERICAN EAGLE ghosting out of Great Cove in yesterday’s fog. She apparently overnighted there and raised sails in the morning as the fog was creeping into the Cove. She was on a 6-night “Unscripted Adventure,” according to her schedule. That fog likely will make the cruise more adventuresome.

Of course, there are “pea-soup” fogs and other serious weather conditions that will cause a windjammer to remain at anchor or to stop cruising and “wait things out” in someplace safe.  However, our windjammers seem to travel through many fogs without significant concern, but certainly with care.

Despite their days-of-yore looks, the commercial coastal cruisers have modern safety amenities, including radar, depth sounders and GPS plotters. They’ll also post lookouts, sail slowly and blast foghorn signals, when advisable.

The EAGLE reportedly is 122-123 feet long overall (92’ on deck) and can accommodate up to 26 guests in 14 small cabins. She was launched under a different name as a fishing schooner in 1930 in Glouster, Massachusetts. She wasn’t converted to a Maine passenger cruiser until 1986, according to reports. She now hails from Rockland, Maine.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on July 29, 2026.)

In the Right Place: Welcome Devastation

Our bee balm looks like a floral Gaza Strip now; but that’s not bad. Swarms of nectar-seeking invaders, including hummingbirds, butterflies, moths and, especially bumblebees, broke and sucked the life out of most of the corollas. Corollas are the bee balm’s red, stalk-like flower tubes that contain the sweet nectary deep down within. The flowers start the season with a full head of erect corollas. Then, they’re swarmed, which is what they “want.”

A few desperate bumblebees remain on the damaged flowers, scavenging leftovers, but most of the pollinators have moved on to sweeter pastures starting to bloom nearby. Here are what I guess to be desperate two-spotted bumble bees (Bombus bimaculatus) looking for the last of the nectar in the well-worked-over bee balm.

There are 17 native bumble bee species that have been documented here in Maine at one time or another. However, reports indicate that 4 of these species haven’t been seen in recent years or are getting scarce. Our wild bees are in trouble due to loss of habitat. The consequences of losing more of them may be profound.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine on July 24, 2026.)

In the Right Place: The Buck Stops Here

Above, you see July’s full moon rising over Great Cove last night. Below, you’ll see an earlier image of its ascent:

The July full moon traditionally is called the Buck Full Moon because male deer (“bucks”) are growing their “velvet’-covered new antlers at a rapid pace at this time, sometimes half an inch daily.

As you may know, deer velvet is soft, blood-vessel-filled skin that is a protective covering for the growing antlers. When the antlers mature, it is shed and rubbed off by the bucks. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on July 27, 2026.)

In the Right Place: Windjammers, VII

Here you see a sleeping beauty wearing nothing but her rigging in the still waters of Great Cove. She has the sultry name of ANGELIQUE, but not for the reasons that most might think.

It was Sunday morning and ANGELIQUE was at rest while her passengers and some of her crew were ashore, touring the renowned WoodenBoat Publications and School campus. She was on a four-night “Grandparents & Grandkids” cruise, according to her schedule.

ANGELIQUE left the Cove under full sail. Those tan-bark-colored sails and her top-sailed, ketch configuration make her one of the most recognizable of the Maine windjammer coastal cruisers. She’s also relatively large at 130 feet in overall length (95’ deck length), with 15 double-occupancy (albeit not large) guest cabins.

Here’s the whole story. The day began with sighting ANGELIQUE from the house early in the morning. I soon went down to the Cove to take mages nof her before she raised sails and departed:

Her passengers (apparently mostly grandparents and grandchildren) eventually returned to the vessel in two trips of one of her longboats. After they climbed aboard, the longboat was raised on its davit and preparations were made to raise sails.

Then, the passengers and crew raised sails. First they raised the aft sail and its topsail, then the mainsail and its topsail, as ANGELIQUE turned to get into the wind. As she picked up cruising speed in a following wind, she flared her aft sail and raised her three jibs one at a time. Under full sail, she entered into Eggemoggin Reach and was gone.

Some Basic Facts:

ANGELIQUE was designed by Imero Gabbato of Camden, Maine, specifically to be a Maine coastal cruiser, but with a steel-compartmentalized hull. She was built in 1980 in Palatka, Florida, at a shipyard that specializes in such hulls. Some say she was designed to resemble a 19th century English fishing trawler, but the original owner denied that in a report. Whether intended or not, there is a nice resemblance.

She homeports in Camden, where she touts her amenities to potential passengers. These include three heads (small bathrooms); three hot fresh-water showers below deck and one on deck; two auxiliary inboard diesel engines and that steel-plated and framed hull for safety and durability.

She was not named ANGELIQUE after some sultry femme fatale, as I hoped was the case. She was named in honor of Angelique, a beautiful hardwood from French Guiana and Suriname, according to a video interview of her wood-loving original owner. Apparently, some of this hardwood is displayed in ANGELIQUE’S main cabin.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on July 26, 2026.)

In the Right Place: To Diversity

A recently-found first draft of a famous document says this: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all boats are not created equal, but most are endowed by their creators with certain unalienable traits, that among these are the enhancement of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.” Warning: This draft may have gone through a few changes before being issued.

But the diversity of boats is one of the truths that makes the pursuit of happiness easier on the Maine coast. Above, you see an eclectic trio giving a colorful performance in Conary Cove. Below, you’ll see a mixed quartet performing a more serene composition in Great Cove.

(Images taken in Blue Hill and Brooklin, Maine, on July 23, 2026.)

In the Right Place: Fowl Play, II

I know I shouldn’t be doing this, but I’m sitting here starting another post about chickens! Well, mostly about one chicken that I’m now calling Walter for reasons to be explained later. But he comes from a large family called the Orpingtons. (His breed was created in the 19th century in the town of Orpington, England.)

I’ve met Walter four times so far this month as he continues to explore the fields and woods of our property. His roost is across the road, but he apparently is a very free-range rooster or an escape artist. He’s more dignified than friendly, and he’ll pose to be admired, as you see here in his latest portraits.

If I try to approach him closely, Walter will cluck disapprovingly, sometimes give a hurried or partial “cock-a-doodle-do” and strut slowly away with his handsome head and glorious tail held high. Once, when I tried to open a neighborly conversation with him, he looked me in the eye, clucked a demeaning insinuation and then made a definitive statement by defecating mightily while glaring at me.

Walter is part of a family of chickens that have been bred to be large and meaty, while producing many eggs and being so beautiful that they can compete as show birds. These “Orpingtons” come in black, white, blue and buff feather finery. Walter, as you see, is a “buff Orpington.”

This rooster is English, a daring explorer and a bit disdainful. So, I decided to name him after Sir Walter Raliegh. As you probably know, Sir Walter was a dashing explorer who was given a royal charter to American land in the 16th century by Queen Elizabeth I. He apparently considered the land to encompass North Carolina through Maine.

Sir Walter named the property “Virginia” to honor Queen Elizabeth who never married, reputedly to avoid the risk of power being shared with a foreign prince. Thus, she was lovingly known as “The Virgin Queen.” (Whether that was just a political persona has been debated; there are nasty rumors about her being roostered by Sir Walter. But that’s another story.)  

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on July 21, 2026.)

In the Right Place: Windjammers, VI

Here you see the STEPHEN TABER waking up in Great Cove early yesterday and moving a short distance to transport her passengers to the WoodenBoat Publications and School campus for a tour. There also were WBS sailing classes to watch. She was on a 5-night private cruise, according to her schedule.

Se soon put up sails and departed before noon, as you’ll see in the images below.

This classic schooner reportedly is the oldest documented sailing vessel in continuous service in the United States and is a National Historic Landmark. She was built and launched in Long Island, New York, in 1871. As was often done, she was named after a prominent and wealthy member of the community who could help when needed. Stepen Taber was a financier, lawyer and a U.S. Congressman.

The TABER was built to haul heavy cargo (e.g., bricks, lumber, coal) in New York Harbor and around Long Island, although she did some passenger work in the early 1900s when the freight business fell off.

She moved to Maine in 1920 where she continued to carry heavy cargo until she was converted into a coastal tourist cruiser in 1946. She’s 110 feet long overall (68 feet on deck) and now hails from Rockland, Maine.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on July 23, 2026.)

In the Right Place: Berry, Berry Nice

Two of our quick-change artists are at it again. Both are white-flowering spring flora that are changing into their red-berry stages as we speak.

Above, you see Doublefile Viburnum (Viburnum plicatum f. tomentosum). Its red berries will turn shiny black starting in late summer and be swarmed by flocks of birds, while its beautifully-veined leaves will turn burgundy in the fall.

Below, you’ll see Bunchberry (Cornus canadensis), the smallest member of the dogwood family. Its clustered (“bunched”) berries are rich in pectin, making them good thickeners for jams and jellies. Its leaves turn brilliant reds and purples in the fall. Strange as it may seem, black bears are among the wildlife that love the tiny berries.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on July 22, 2026.)

In the Right Place: Of Ping Pong Balls and Peanuts

This is a female ruby-throated hummingbird about to feed on bee balm. These females are “ruby-throated” only because their species name says that they are; only the males wear those spectacular iridescent red and purple necklaces called “gorgets.”

Here in Down East Maine, the males impregnate the females and usually start their migration back south in July, leaving the females to build nests and raise the progeny as single parents. That means that these mothers need plenty of energizing nectar.

Ruby-throats are among wildlife’s best fliers. They reportedly beat their wings between 50 and 80 times per second depending on activity – too fast for the human eye to see more than a blur. They can fly forward, backward and even upside down, and can reach forward speeds of up to 60 mph during courtship dives, according to researchers.

Most adult ruby-throats weigh about three grams and are about three inches long overall, but their bodies (not counting long beak and stubby tail) are only about 1.5 to 2.0 inches long, according to taxonomist measurements.

Stated another way, these birds have the weight of a ping-pong ball and the body length of a roasted peanut pod.  Yet, on their migrations from and to Central America and southern Mexico, they can fly nonstop 500 or so miles across the Gulf of Mexico.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on July19, 2026.)

In the Right Place: Me, Too

“Ordinarily I go to the woods alone,
                                  ***
I don’t really want to be witnessed talking to the catbirds
or hugging the old black oak tree.
I have my ways of praying,
as you no doubt have yours.”

— Excerpts from "How I Go to the Woods" by Mary Oliver (2012)

Oliver (1933-2019) wrote sensitively-observant poems about nature and life. She suffered an abusive childhood in which she would escape to the woods to find solace, spiritual strength and, eventually, poetry, which she credited with saving her life.

She would explore the outdoors alone with a small notebook and jot down floods of impressions. She famously challenged her readers by asking a haunting question: "Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" She won the Pulitzer Prize in 1983 and the National Book Award in 1992.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on July 20 and 19, 2026.)

In the Right Place: Handstands and Bombing Runs

Despite their name, dragonflies are not harmful and they’re not flies. They don’t sting or bite and they’re more efficient at pest control than your Orkin man. But they do have quirks. Here are a few words about two of our native dragonflies that are winging it around here now.

Above, you see what appears to be a mature male white-faced Meadowhawk dragonfly (Sympetrum obtrusum). Their females are yellowish-brown or burnished orange with black triangles down the sides of the abdomen. One of the unusual habits of this species is that they do handstands on perches with their abdomens pointed straight up to stay cool. The position apparently minimizes the surface area exposed to the sun.

Below, , you’ll see what appears to be a mature male Slaty Skimmer (Libellula incesta). Their females are brown with a dark stripe down their back. Unlike most other species, female slaty blues lay their fertilized eggs like bombers – they hover over ponds and lakes and drop the eggs.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on July 15 and 12, 2026.)