IN THE RIGHT PLACE

https://leightons.smugmug.com/Birds/Raptormania-The-Large-and-Smal/i-zqczt8q

Raptormania: The Big and Small of It

October 19, 2015

In Hancock County, Maine

Imagine that you’re traveling down a country road in your Subaru Outback and a drunken Bald Eagle swerves into your lane, smacking dead center into your windshield. Just before your heart attack, you’d experience a total eclipse of the windshield, with primary feathers left over on each side of the car. Stated another way, our national symbol has a wingspan of between seven and eight feet and doesn’t maneuver well.

If, on the other hand, a tipsy Merlin swerved into your lane, it probably would do a quick roll around the Subaru’s right side, and might even fly through your open passenger window to attack you. The last thing that you’d see before your heart attack would be a blur containing masked eyes, sharp beak, and extended talons. Stated another way, this falcon, once called a Pigeon Hawk, is fast, fierce, and small; it has a wingspan of between 21 and 27 inches. (Merlins often attack first and ask questions later with regard to anything that moves conspicuously while they hunt – they reportedly even chase moving automobiles and trains.

The Bald Eagle and Merlin represent virtually the polar-ends of the Raptor sizing spectrum here. They both have hooked talons and hooked beaks designed to hold and tear their prey, as do hawks, kites, owls, and other Raptors. (The term Raptor is derived from the Latin word for one who seizes and harms or robs by force.) In terms of size (the best way to start identifying a bird), the uncommon Golden Eagle sometimes is a bit larger than its bald cousin; the American Kestrel, a falcon once called a Sparrow Hawk, is somewhat smaller than its Merlin cousin. Other than Raptors’ hooks fore and aft, the Bald Eagle and Merlin are remarkably different.

One of the more remarkable characteristics of the Bald Eagle is that it takes about five years for it to grow into its name and develop its strikingly good adult looks – bright white head and tail, golden beak, topaz yellow eyes. The juvenile Bald Eagle, even when as large as an adult, is an unexceptional black-beaked brown thing that is splattered with white streaks and spots; it has dull brown eyes.

The Bald Eagle apparently prefers not to exert itself unless necessary, even at mealtime. It is quite happy eating road kill and other carrion. Its favorite fish appears to be the already-dead variety that floats slowly, although it will circle down and try to catch unsuspecting live fish and eels -- often missing the prey. This Eagle also will take injured water fowl and gulls, but does not do well catching uninjured birds.

The Merlin is not a lazy, soaring bird. With rapid beats of its wings, it conducts horizontal, high-speed attacks on its favorite zigzagging prey – other birds. It has one of the highest successful kill rates, usually catching its shrieking prey in midair. (This may not be a sight for teaching young children about the joys of birding.)

The Merlin is beautiful from the beginning. As do other falcons, it sports a mustache that droops down each side of its bill, masked eyes, brightly-streaked chest, and boldly-barred tail.

You can see a few more recent images of Bald Eagles and a Merlin by clicking the link below. We recommend that your initial screening of the images be a full-frame slideshow. (To make that happen, click on the SLIDESHOW button above the featured [largest] image on the gallery page to which the link will take you. Press Esc to return to the thumbnail gallery.) Here's the link:

Cheers,

Barbara and Dick

Answering Questions: Yes, there will be images of Maine’s fall colors in the end-of-month Postcards From Maine Virtual Tour.

https://leightons.smugmug.com/InsectsandSpiders/BaldFaced-Hornets/i-sdPpJST

The Hornet That Is Not

October 11, 2015

In Brooklin, Maine

If you’re brave enough to get very close, you’ll discover that the Bald-Faced Hornet (Dolichovespula maculate) does indeed have no hair on its skull-like face. However, that does not make this ornery insect a hornet. The only hornet we have in this country is the European Hornet (Vespa crabro), which was introduced here accidentally, much to the chagrin of the many insects it eats – including wasps.

Speaking of which, that is what the Bald-Faced Hornet is: a common wasp. Of course, there are only about five non- entomologists who would care what this insect was named or who otherwise would go to any trouble to try to sort out the differences among bees, wasps, and hornets. What is more important to most people is knowing whether the insects buzzing nearby are thinking of attacking. And, in the case of Bald-Faced Hornets, these insects are known for repeatedly stinging people who get close to their nest; their stings actually have killed some people who are allergic to the venom.

Which brings us to the inspiration for this esoteric piece. Barbara discovered a large, still-active nest of Bald-Faced Hornets within a winterberry bush along the edge of a path on which we often walk. Such nests usually die out by September. As of this dappled October morning, however, our BFH nest was a veritable O’Hare of incoming and outgoing flights.

Bald-Faced Hornet nests are shaped like an upside-down pear. They’re made from wood pulverized into paper by the wasps, which have an artistic talent for swirling the nest’s outside texture into attractive oyster-shell-like designs. Our nest is about two feet long and about a foot at its widest point. Such nests have been estimated to house anywhere from 200 to 400 BFHs.

Active Bald-Faced Hornet nests contain impregnated queens who will leave when the colony is dying from one or more freezes. These queens will spend the winter locally (under bark, in rock crevices, etc.) and emerge in the spring to start a nest and colony. The colony will consist primarily of worker females, but will include some male drones that can impregnate the queen and potential queens. The drones can’t sting; the females can and will use their weapon to kill other insects for the colony’s food, including their cousins, the Yellow Jackets. When other insects are diminishing in the fall, foraging Bald-Faced Hornets will bring back nectar. These workers are about one-half to five-eighths of an inch long; queens are about three-quarters of an inch long.

For the three or so other non-entomologists who might be interested in knowing some of the differences among bees, wasps, and hornets, here’s the apparent essence:

>Bees: most are hairy, good-natured pollinaters that eat nectar. If the circumstances make them feel obliged do sting people, their singers and part of their stomachs are impaled in the victim and the bees die. But, when they sting other insects (which is why they have stingers), this does not happen.

>Wasps: most have little or no hair and are aggressive near their nests or food; they eat insects and some eat food waste (especially sugary substances). They can sting repeatedly without harming themselves and some (including the Bald-Faced Hornet) can bite as well as sting.

>Hornets: these are large wasps that are distinguished by their wider heads and larger abdomens behind the narrow wasp waist. They have some hair and will sting repeatedly when provoked. Their preferred food is insects.

If you haven’t had enough, you can view a few more images of our Bald-Faced Hornets and their nest by clicking on this link:

Cheers,

Barbara and Dick

https://leightons.smugmug.com/Maine/Out/Postcards-From-Maine/

Postcards From Maine: Remembering September

September 30, 2015

In Hancock County, Maine

Mother Nature reaches the prime of her annual life in early September here. You have to be pretty far gone not to feel alive on a good early September day in Maine. But there’s always a turning point in September when we find with surprise that Mother Nature is starting to show her age. It’s the time that we suddenly realize that the wonderful summer – and all that it represents -- has abandoned us with just a few already-fading memories.

To slow this loss, we’re sending you and ourselves September “postcards,” delivered by the link below. These are images of just a few of the small moments in the month that we’ll use in the winter months to tease our memories into remembering the larger picture. The September that we want to remember includes, among many others, the following experiences that we invite you to enjoy vicariously if you wish:

->Smelling freshly-mowed grasses and wildflowers blended with the tangy scent of sea air as our north field is mowed.

-> Sneaking up on a flotilla of male Wood Ducks while they apparently were discussing whether to migrate (some do, some don’t) and the fact that faces of some of them already have lost their dramatic war paint and returned to winter gray. (This is their so-called eclipse phase; Mother Nature’s one consolation is to allow these males to retain their startling Maraschino cherry eyes.)

-> Gazing through the branches of unattended apple trees festooned with thousands of apples, most of which will fall and rot and add a sweetness to salty coastal winds.

-> Enjoying the graceful energy of sailing craft of all sizes, even little boats swinging in the current at their moorings; then, poignantly watching them being mechanically plucked from their liquid environment and stacked in boathouses like specimens in museum storage or shrink-wrapped like mummies.

-> Watching the emergence of fresh fall flowers, including graceful Fall Dandelions (Leontodon autumnalis) that appear on long legs and take over the job of buttercups, sprinkling the browning fields with fresh yellow dabs. (These are not to be confused with their poor relation, the lawn-killing Common Dandelion [Taraxacum officinale].)

-> Looking up in darkness as our earth passes between the sun and the moon and produces a red cast on the full moon; this is a rare Super Blood Moon Eclipse that only can happen when the full moon is closest to us. (This last happened in 1982 and won’t happen again until 2033.)

You can join us on the virtual version of Remembering September by clicking the link below to see the images, which can viewed in about 30 seconds. We recommend that your initial screening of the images be a full-frame slideshow. (To make that happen, click on the SLIDESHOW button above the featured [largest] image on the gallery page to which the link will take you. Press Esc to return to the thumbnail gallery.) Here's the link:

Cheers,

Barbara and Dick

https://leightons.smugmug.com/Maine/Windjammers-and-Other-Boats/WBS-Sail-In-2015/

3 Comments

September Schooner Watch

September 24, 2015

In Brooklin, Maine

You can learn a lot about Brooklin from a single fact: there are three active harbors within a few miles of each other in this tiny town. Naskeag Harbor, sheltered by Harbor Island, is primarily a harbor for working lobster and mussel boats. Center Harbor, sheltered by Chatto Island, is the home of the famous Brooklin Boat Yard as well as the site for the Center Harbor Yacht Club, both of which are primarily for sail boat lovers. Great Cove, sheltered by Babson and Little Babson Islands, is the home of the renowned Wooden Boat School, which teaches courses in boat building and handling and has a large pier and boat house that are the focal points of the harbor.

Today, by very popular request, we’re focusing on a phenomenon that occurs in Great Cove. But, to avoid a common misconception of those who have never visited here, we first confess that the Cove is not Great in the sense of being large among coves, as a Great Dane is among dogs. We don’t know why it was called Great in the first place; but, for many, Great Cove easily qualifies for the exclamation, “What a great cove!”

Now, for our phenomenon: Great Cove, small as it is, is a hub for schooners. We’ll see 12 that dropped anchor here just in the first three weeks of September.

Part of the attraction is that Wooden Boat School hosts schooner sail-ins and offers passengers opportunities to explore the lovely campus, watch classes, shop in a gift store, and enjoy other amenities. Another part is Great Cove’s classic Maine beauty and its opportunity to host a lobster or clam bake on the beaches and ledges of Babson Island, a tree-and fern-filled uninhabited Island that is part of an environmental trust.

So, in response to the pleadings of some of our avid windjammer watchers, we’re sharing our September schooner sightings. Here, in alphabetical order, are the names of the schooners that we’re admiring and a few facts about the times of their origin (all ports in Maine):

American Eagle, hailing from Rockland, is 90 feet in overall length (counting bow sprit). She was launched in 1930 when Herbert Hoover was President of the United States and the Mickey Mouse comic strip first appeared.
Angelique, from Camden, is 130 feet long overall. She was launched in 1980 when Jimmy Carter was President and the U.S. severed relations with Iran due to hostage-taking.
Grace Baily, from Camden, is 123 feet long overall. She was launched in 1882 when Chester Arthur was President and Jesse James was killed by a shot in the back of the head.
Heritage, from Rockland, is 145 feet long overall.. She was launched in 1983 when Ronald Reagan was President and McDonald’s introduced the Chicken McNugget.
Isaac H. Evans, from Rockland, is 99 feet long overall. She was launched in 1886 when Grover Cleveland was President and Coca Cola was first advertised.
J&E Riggin, from Rockport, is 120 feet long overall. She was launched in 1927 when Calvin Coolidge was President and the Academy Awards were founded.
Lewis R. French, form Camden, is 101 feet long overall. She was launched in 1871 when the President was Ulysses Grant and the first major league baseball game was played.
Mary Day, from Camden, is 125 feet long overall. She was launched in 1962 when John Kennedy was President and Bob Dylan released his first album.
Mercantile, from Camden, is 115 long overall. She was launched in 1916 when Woodrow Wilson was President and Pancho Villa invaded New Mexico.
Stephen Taber, from Camden, is 115 feet long overall. She was launched in 1971 when Richard Nixon was President and Disney World opened in Florida.
Vela, from Sedgwick, is 90 feet long overall. She was launched in 1996 when Bill Clinton was President and the first production electric car was introduced by General Motors.
Victory Chimes, from Rockland, is 170 feet long overall. She was launched in 1900 when William McKinley was President and the first zeppelin flight took place in Germany.

You can join us on the virtual version of our September schooner watch by clicking the link below to see the 42 images, which can viewed in less than 60 seconds. We recommend that your initial screening of the images be a full-frame slideshow. (To make that happen, click on the SLIDESHOW button above the featured [largest] image on the gallery page to which the link will take you. Press Esc to return to the thumbnail gallery.) Here's the link to join us in September schooner watching:

Cheers,

Barbara and Dick

3 Comments

https://leightons.smugmug.com/Maine/Windjammers-and-Other-Boats/Sunset-Cruise-on-the-Timberwin/

Losing the Sun

September 16, 2015

In Belfast, Maine

We board the schooner Timberwind on a golden afternoon of what has been a beautiful day. The graceful windjammer is a true Mainer: she was built here in 1931, never left the state, and now mostly does short day cruises in Down East. She’s 96 feet in overall length and no longer has a motor; her yawl boat pushes her in and out of Belfast Harbor before she sets sail.

We’re beginning a two-hour “Sunset Sail” in Belfast Bay and, through a quirk of luck, we’re the only passengers on the schooner this afternoon. We're greeted by the congenial crew and the knowledgeable Captain, Lance Meadows, as well as the Captain’s friendly wife, Liz, who works the sails and ropes as hard as anyone. On deck, we can appreciate the polished woodwork details and the care taken with the ropes, including a fine Flemish curl figure eight.

We cast off at five p.m. and are pushed slowly out of the Harbor. On the way, we’re passed by the Tide N’ Knots, a Belfast lobster boat going out with its two-person, two-gender crew. The Tide’s “lobstermen” are dressed in summer business attire: tee shirts and water-proof fishing bibs and braces (rubberized overalls and suspenders); whether pants are worn under the bibs in summer reportedly is a matter of personal taste here.

The motor on the yawl boat pushing us is turned off in the outer Bay. We decline the offer to help the athletic crew in jumping the halyards to raise the sails by hand. It’s tough work that needs strength and coordination of the type that we have long lost. Soon, the sails are up and we find good wind. The music of sailing starts with notes from creaking wood, stretching ropes and canvas, and gurgling water being cleaved by the bow.

It's getting on the cold side of chilly here in the September wind and everyone dons jackets. Perhaps the cold air is why we see few recreational boats out at dusk. But we do see a pretty Friendship Sloop that changes course to greet us; her passengers take photographs of our vintage schooner while we do the same to the vintage sloop.

Soon, the sky begins to blush with hints of pink. We’re silently heading for an infinite horizon where sea meets wind-streaked evening clouds.

The sky and water get darker and the sun becomes a flare, sending out streams of light through the clouds racing over the ridge to our west. A sun beam swims out to us in the blackening Bay.

Although it feels like the sun is leaving us, we realize that it is we who are leaving our mother star and we bid her a fond adieu – until we meet again. The feeling is primal if you’re in the right mood – and we are.

You can join us on the virtual version of our Sunset Sail by clicking the link below to see the images, which can viewed in about 30 seconds. We recommend that your initial screening of the images be a full-frame slideshow. (To make that happen, click on the SLIDESHOW button above the featured [largest] image on the gallery page to which the link will take you. Press Esc to return to the thumbnail gallery.) Here's the link:

Cheers,

Barbara and Dick

https://leightons.smugmug.com/Maine/Out/The-Blue-Hill-Fair/

"A True Down to Earth Country Fair"

September 9, 2015

In Blue Hill, Maine

We’re at the annual Blue Hill Fair, a tradition in these parts since 1891 and the inspiration for the fair scenes in E.B. White’s classic Charlotte’s Web. The Official Blue Hill Fair Website describes this event as “a true down to earth country fair.” And that it is; the dress code apparently is jeans, T-shirt, and a smile. The day is sunny and warm, but not hot; the sky is glaringly blue. The heavy perfume of carnival food is in the air, occasionally lightly salted by a breeze wafting from nearby Blue Hill Bay.

Our first competitive event is the Horse Pull, one of the more popular contests. The Pull has its origins in tough work that horses did before combustible “horsepower.” Basically, two horses in tandem are driven by a person using the reins while walking behind or beside them; the horses must pull a sled of concrete blocks back and forth between lines in the Pull Ring for a set time.

The team that travels the farthest within that period wins the blue ribbon for its class. The classes are determined by the weights on the sled: 3000, 3200, and 4700 pounds. The straining horses dig in, kick up clumps of dirt and clouds of dust, travel a short distance, and are stopped periodically for rests before continuing. These animals are magnificent, muscular specimens that are as calm as meditating monks a few minutes after their tough workout.

Before our next competition, we take in a high-energy free show by Team Rock, which is self-described as “a martial arts-concrete-breaking-Christian-ministry.” (Yes, you read that right, but they left their gospel home today.) Team Rock spends a lot of time defying gravity with kicking leaps and gymnastic flips.

The next prize event involves massive animals that we don't want to see try to leap or flip. It’s the Oxen Scooting Contest, which is patterned after the historical and difficult work done with oxen in the forests. Two yoked oxen are hitched to a sled and guided through an irregular course with “Gees,” “Haws,” and the occasional tap of an ox rod. The team that is fastest within its poundage class gets the blue ribbon.

We drop by another free event billed as “The Red Trouser Show,” which has nothing to do with selling golfing attire. Two young men wearing red pants juggle flaming batons and steel knives, perform some acrobatics, tell a few jokes, and hang off a ladder as an encore. Then they ask for donations in return for them signing a poster of themselves. We see no takers and move on to the livestock area to view the four-horned “Devil Sheep” and other live attractions.

It's now late afternoon and we're at the shaded Racetrack watching another of the most popular prize events: Antique Tractor Pulling. The tractors pull a mechanized sled that gradually increases its own torqued resistance, thereby increasing the weight of the load and sometimes making the tractors rear up like a horse. The tractors are divided into classes by poundage and the one that goes the farthest within its class gets a blue ribbon.

As the sun goes down, the bright sky is subdued by a royal blue dome that increasingly darkens. The magic moment arrives when the gaudy lights of the Fair’s amusements dominate the scene, flashing bright patterns and casting colorful moving shadows. The rides and midway are now crowded; there’s shrieking coming from lighted contraptions that spin and twist and there’s laughter from the midway, where families and friends are walking and talking in the warm night. This is how summer should end.

You can join us on a virtual tour of the Blue Hill Fair by clicking the link below to see the postcard images, which can viewed in about 90 seconds. We recommend that your initial screening of the images be a full-screen Slideshow. (Click “SLIDESHOW” above the featured image; press Esc on your keyboard to return to the thumbnail gallery.) Here's the link:

Cheers,

Barbara and Dick

https://leightons.smugmug.com/Maine/Out/Postcards-From-Maine-August-20/

Postcards From Maine: Remembering August

September 3, 2015

In Hancock and Piscataquis Counties, Maine

August slowly delights us and then suddenly leaves before we can say goodbye. We try to be content with memories of precious moments with her, but they fade quickly. To slow this loss, we’re sending you and ourselves August “postcards,” delivered by the link below. These are images of small moments in the month, each of which is special in its way. And, in total, we hope that these postcards convey the traditional message: “Having a wonderful time, wish you were here.”

So, we see August as the time when gaudy Mother Nature dons all her late-flowering jewels at once: dangling orange earrings of Tiger Lilies; broaches of yellow and white Goldenrod and Queen Anne’s Lace; a brazen red necklace of Viburnum berries, and so on. At times, we see her dance in veils of fog, which transform the once-bright charms of the garden into colorful shadows.

August is a time for us to travel down country roads to see the quirky functional art of Maine and the beauty of rural landscape: the funny mailboxes; the connected barns and houses; a front yard filled with a shamble of lobstering paraphernalia, and garages that are shrines to the Maine obsession with vintage cars. Or, sometimes, we just pause to appreciate the man-made grace of a curve in the wooded lane or the sunset gleaming on the white birches there.

August is full of birds and butterflies and animals that hide but can be found. Some soon will migrate away, such as the Yellow Warbler that is a flickering candle within the leaves and the Double-Crested Cormorant sunbathing with outstretched wings.

Some wildlife will disappear into hibernation, such as the swift Garter Snake that hunts grasshoppers in our Hay-Scented Fern. Some will be shot and killed according to deeply-seated Maine tradition, perhaps one of the White-Tailed bucks that we’ve seen this year.

August is a time to watch sunlight play on the waters of rivers, lakes, and the sea; it’s also the time to see people play on those waters in boats large and small. The joy of sailing in the grip of a good wind can be obvious and contagious.

There is much more to remember about this August, now that she’s left us, as you'll see.

You can join us on the virtual tour of August by clicking the link below to see the postcard images, which can viewed in less than two minutes. We recommend that your initial screening of the images be in full-frame on your computer monitor. To make that happen, click on the featured [largest] image on the gallery page to which the link will take you. Use your left and right keyboard arrows to go back and forth; press Esc to return to the thumbnail gallery.) Here's the link:

Cheers,

Barbara and Dick

https://leightons.smugmug.com/Maine/Windjammers-and-Other-Boats/Windjammers-of-August-2015/

Five Windjamming Visitors

August 29, 2015

In Great Cove, Brooklin, Maine

۞This week’s posting is dedicated to our friend and schooner-lover Bill Borghesani. Bill, now retired, helped pay for law school many years ago by sailing as a deckhand on the fabled schooner Alice S. Wentworth. Launched in 1863, Alice freighted commodities in Maine and elsewhere before becoming a cruise ship here. She eventually was moored in Boston Harbor where she appeared briefly in the background of a scene shot for the classic Thomas Crown Affair, starring a cool Steve McQueen and a hot Faye Dunnaway. She (Alice, not Faye) was destroyed by a storm in 1974 at the age of 111, but left behind a fascinating history, including many tales that Bill recounts to this day.۞

August has brought the Cove just about every variation of summer weather there is. Thus, having our choice, we choose to begin on a sun-gleaming day. There’s a steady sea breeze that shepherds a herd of clouds above the blue waters of Eggemoggin Reach. It’s low tide, when strips of ledge in the Reach are revealed like a hidden world rising. And out there, barreling south just beyond Great Cove’s sheltering Babson Islands, is Victory Chimes.

She’s magnificently under full sail, formally dressed to travel back into time. Victory is not the oldest schooner working these waters (she was launched in 1900), but she’s the biggest: 170 feet long overall (counting bowsprit). She’s the only remaining three-master in the Down East windjammer fleet and today each of those masts is under billowing sail and her three jibs are flying.

We return to the Cove when it’s engulfed in thick fog. It’s fairly common to see schooners under significant sail leave the Cove “in the soup,” thrilling passengers and relying on radar, sonar, and lookouts.

What’s not common is to see a large windjammer barreling into the busy Cove “with almost everything up” and sweeping into a tight arc to drop anchor 50 feet from another vessel. That’s what we see this day: The yellow-hulled, 145-foot Heritage suddenly parts a solid gray curtain of fog heading toward us. She’s got all sails up except for her fore topsail. She’s dropping her jibs as she swings around, and anchors. The next day is sunny and we watch Heritage collect its passengers from shore and sail out. Designed with schooner features, the Heritage was launched for passenger cruising in 1983.

On a partly sunny day, we watch the Stephen Taber crew collect her passengers and treat them (and us) to a departure under sail. Stephen, launched in 1871, was a true commercial coaster before being refurbished for tourists. She’s 115 feet overall and appears to be one of the most responsive schooners when under sail.

Fog returns. We go down to the Cove and watch the Angelique raise her bark tan sails, hoist anchor, and disappear into the horizon. Launched in 1980 for the tourist trade, she’s 130 feet long overall – a massive structure silently and invisibly sailing the Reach.

The Mary Day, a frequent visitor to the Cove, is now moored in fog here, with crew up high checking her rigging. She was launched in 1962 for touring and is 125 feet long overall. We return to watch Mary wake up to the sun. Her passengers go ashore for the morning and return to the schooner, which drifts a few hundred feet to Babson Island and oversees a lobster bake on the beach.

You can join us on a virtual tour during these maritime days by clicking the link below to view 33 images. We recommend that your initial screening of the images be in full-frame on your computer monitor. To make that happen, click on the featured [largest] image on the gallery page to which the link will take you. Use your left and right keyboard arrows to go back and forth; press Esc to return to the thumbnail gallery.) Here's the link:

Cheers,

Barbara and Dick

https://leightons.smugmug.com/Maine/Out/Vacationland/

In Hot Pursuit

August 21, 2015

In the Moosehead Lake Region, Maine

It began with a strange urge to see a live Moose, an animal that is undergoing disturbing declines. During many years of diligent watching, we’ve never seen Maine’s official animal in Maine. That’s primarily why we’re in Greenville, the gateway to the North Woods. Other reasons are that it’s beautiful around here; the three-hour drive is full of interesting sights, and there’s a lovely woodland waterfall on the Appalachian Trail here that needs a visit.

Greenville is just west of the center of Maine. It sits on the southern shore of Lake Moosehead, one of the most popular vacation hubs in a state that calls itself “Vacationland.” The 40-by-10-mile Lake reportedly is the largest fresh water body within a single state. It abounds with boats, bush pilots in sea planes, white water enthusiasts, ATV cruisers, and campers. It also is the departure point for “Moose Safaris.”

Around dawn and sunset, Moose roam into nearby bogs and ponds, where they graze on fresh water shoots and other plants. Unfortunately, they also sometimes think that the grass is greener on the other side of Route 15 and cross the highway with little regard for traffic. “Moose Crash Area” warnings with flashing lights mark long stretches of road here.

(Next to humans, Moose are the most dangerous animals on U.S. highways, where they cause a significant number of injuries and fatalities. They’re about six feet high at the shoulder and can be almost 10 feet tall at rack top; they often weigh well more than 1000 pounds. Most of their weight is in their humped and distended body, which is supported by long, skinny legs. Due to their dark body and high eyes, drivers can miss any reflected gleam of headlights, although there is a debate as to whether Moose eyes gleam. Due to the animal’s height, a speeding car invariably hits a Moose in its long legs, sweeping its body up onto the vehicle’s hood, which often channels the hurtling half-ton of fur, muscle, and bone through the windshield.)

We hire a guide to find us Moose using her company’s van. This is a good practice if you don’t know the area well and you want to protect your own car. Generally, if you want to watch the animals in their natural environment and not poke around in canoes, you have to travel over some of the country’s worst unpaved, washboard, pot-holed, and frost-heaved roads. Moreover, these roads usually wind for miles through a boring tunnel of dusty scrub greenery. Most of the “good” sightings are at remote locations on a pond or in a swamp. And, we have to get to these spots within the “good” hours between about 4:00 p.m. and dusk. This means that most of our precious time is spent driving over ruts to the current "lucky spots."

We initially travel for about 45 minutes just to get to one of those rutty old roads, which we then rattle down for about another 40 minutes. We finally stop at a not particularly special looking place and enter the woods. At the end of a descending path, the trees open up and we suddenly become part of a stunningly beautiful vista at the edge of First Roach Pond. We wait for a hungry Moose to step out of the woods on the far shore. The only things that come out of the woods here are other Moose-seekers who, with difficulty, portage canoes into the still water. In doing so, they make plenty of unnatural noise. We decide to leave, very much worried about our disappearing time. It’s about 5:30 p.m. now and the only mammals we’ve seen are tourists. (At first, we hoped to see a big Bull Moose and Cow near each other, or a Cow and her calf together. At this point, we would settle for a glimpse of a calf's butt.)

It’s about 6:00 p.m. when our next rutted road opens onto Lazy Tom’s Bog. Again, the transition is startling: this is a beautiful glade with a meandering clear stream. And, there he is: a young male Moose with a small rack, dipping his long snout in the stream and munching grass shoots. He’s about a quarter of a mile away. He strolls away upstream, eating all the way, and disappears behind a bend.

We return to the highway, zoom to another rutted country road, and rumble to the end. There, at the end, is Prong Pond in the golden light of a fast-descending sun. It’s spectacular. But, people are noisily winching their motor boat out of the water onto their boat trailer. This is not the kind of thing that a respectable Moose abides at dinner time. Our daylight is fading fast.

Our smart guide reminds us that we have achieved our basic goal of seeing a Moose. She says that, if we leave Prong Pond now, we have time to go to Greenville's Blair Hill and see a glorious sunset. This sounds better than watching a boat being winched. (Besides, we now realize that we have to work more on aligning our patience and satisfaction thresholds. After all, one Moose in the camera is worth two in the bush.)

We speed to Blair Hill, which overlooks a vast area of Moosehead Lake. The sun, wrapped in a rose-tinted cloak, is sinking below thick threads of back-lit clouds; the Lake‘s high peninsulas and long islands gradually are turning into massive blue-black alligators slowly entering the shining water. Satisfaction arrives.

We stay in Greenville overnight, eat dinner at Kelly's Landing and breakfast at Auntie M’s, see a few interesting sights in the “downtown” area, and take a short trip up to a nearby ridge in the mountains. We're looking for Goodell Falls along the Appalachian Trail. We find the Trail entry signpost. It contains a skull and bones symbol: the warning that there is dangerous hiking ahead.

The Appalachian Trail at this point is only about 60 miles south of its terminus at Maine’s Mount Katahdin. But, they are among the roughest 60 miles on the 2100-mile trek. Nonetheless, getting to Goodell Falls is a relatively easy (though steep) descent. We pay our respects to Mother Nature with positive murmurs and travel home over the mountains through spruce forests and down into the plain through fields of golden rod, hay, and corn.

You can join us on a 40-second virtual tour of these happy two days by clicking the link below. (We recommend that your initial screening of the 33 images be in full-frame on your computer monitor. To make that happen, click on the featured [largest] image on the gallery page to which the link will take you. Use your left and right keyboard arrows to go back and forth; press Esc to return to the thumbnail gallery.)

Here's the link:

Cheers,

Barbara and Dick

https://leightons.smugmug.com/Maine/Out/On-Little-Cat-Feet/n-9nbBZV/i-8FrRLcG

On Fog

August 14, 2015

In Brooklin, Maine

Fog has provoked awe, daring, and flights of artistic imagination. Carl Sandburg famously imagined fog as something that quietly “comes on little cat feet.” He was inspired by fog that arises when moist, warmer air flows over cold water, technically called Advection Fog.

To be sure, we have feline fog around here. But, it’s hard to imagine a cat silently swallowing a 125-foot schooner as it leaves Great Cove under sail. We prefer to imagine this fog as the silver ghost of a huge octopus that raises its oblong head, stretches out its wispy arms, and swallows everything near it. Since we like fog, we also prefer to imagine this octopus as Disney-character-like. It just swallows, never chews, puffs up its cheeks and spits out all it consumes unharmed; it also sometimes does a Michael Jackson moon dance over an island. But it doesn’t sing; the silence of fog is one of its mystical qualities.

(Schooners often enter the fog under full sail, something their ancient ancestors would not have done unless there were an urgent need. The difference today, apparently, is that our windjammers have radar, sonar, and fog horns, and their captains usually post bow lookouts as well; perhaps just as important, our schooners have paying passengers who are thrilled to sail in fog.)

We get a slightly different fog on shore when the air temperature is below the dew point; this is so-called Radiation Fog. It comes sweeping up our north field, not on little feet, but on gossamer wings. The live and dying wild grasses gradually are shaded into pearly greens and sienna browns, glowing here and there with white sprinkles of Queen Anne’s Lace and yellow dabs of Tansy and Golden Rod. We can’t see much from a distance; but, if we walk down the field slowly and almost silently, we may get lucky and see animals that think they’re invisible in fog. We see a Wild Turkey with her poults and one of two resident young bucks.

Fog seems to love small islands. It paints and repaints these mini-universes with a muted palette, sometimes creating subtly beautiful shades that we’ve never seen. If we’re lucky – and today we are – the scene painted by fog is turned into a sublime work of functional art when a colorful lobster boat breaks through the mist and begins to work close to the island’s rocky shore.

Nearby, we see something that might appear surreal to people “from away,” as they say here: a kayak class getting instruction on a spit of beach as the fog starts to swallow them. The students soon paddle out into the mist.

During the winter months, when very cold air passes over warmer water, we can get Steam Fog, also known as Sea Smoke. Whereas other fogs may appear to the naked eye to be descending, Sea Smoke appears to be rising, often giving the incongruous impression of the sea being a sizzling frying pan on a day that could be well below freezing.

Words can’t adequately recreate the sight and feeling of being in a foggy field of grasses and wildflowers or at the edge of a lapping sea as the ghost visits. Although also inadequate, photographic images come closer to capturing the moment. If you’re interested, click the link below to take a 30-second virtual tour in the fog here. (As usual, we recommend that the initial screening be in full-frame, which can be achieved by clicking on the featured [largest] image on the gallery page to which the link will take you. Use your right and left keyboard arrows to proceed or go back; press Esc to return to the thumbnail gallery.) Here's the link:

Cheers,

Barbara and Dick