The Blue Hill Country Fair

It’s a fine day to visit the Blue Hill Fair and enjoy Maine’s beautiful ’tween temperatures that occur when it's a little past real summer, but not quite real fall yet.

The Fair originated in 1891 and has become known especially for its extensive midway and ride choices (three Ferris wheel-like rides, among other things) and weight-pulling contests (this year: oxen. horse, and truck pulls, but no antique tractor pull).

In the Ox and Horse Pulls, a team of two animals is connected to a “stoneboat,” which originally was a flat-bottomed vehicle loaded with stone; it's now is a wooden sled loaded with cement blocks.

Usually, the starting weight is double the combined weight of the two animals and they’re judged by the amount of weight pulled over a given time.

The weight can be increased in the Canadian Ox Pull each time that it travels three feet or more.

The weight stays the same during the Horse Pull, which is categorized according to the combined weight of the horse team. For example, a “3600 Class Horse Pull” will involve a team of horses that weighs 3,600 pounds or less, usually pulling about twice their weight.

Other horses have it easier:

It isn’t an easy day for the sheep in the Sheep Dog Trials, however. This is where Border Collies intimidate them by giving them “The Eye” and herding them through an obstacle course in a set period of time.

The shelter dogs in the Stunt Dog Challenge are a little more dramatic and just as well trained.

The most popular event this year, according to reports, is the Truck Pull in which souped-up trucks are connected to a large “dynamometer pull sled,” which increases the weight drag as it moves. There's lots of churning wheels and eardrum-shattering motor noises, as well as a truck blowing an engine or tossing an axle every now and then.

Other rides are quieter.

Some are mechanically quiet, but you can hear the screams that they produce for half a mile.

For the full tour, including larger versions of the above images, click on the link below. (We recommend that the initial viewing being full-screen mode, which can be achieved by clicking on the Slideshow icon [>] above the featured image in the gallery to which the link will take you.) Here’s the link to take the tour:

https://leightons.smugmug.com/US-States/Maine/Out/2016-in-Maine/The-Blue-Hill-Country-Fair/

Cheers,

Barbara and Dick

August Postcards From Maine

In Hancock and Knox Counties, Maine

If there had to be only one time and place to meet Summer in her beautiful prime, it would be August on the Down East coast. Lost serenity can be found here simply by thinking "Yes!" -- and only that -- when Summer's sea breeze touches your face.

Yet, poignantly, Summer also passes her prime in late August and begins to age quickly, although we make believe that we don't notice. Where once all was vivid green, brown rashes are starting to appear. Coincidentally, children and their parents need to leave the waters and woods and return to school and work. It's then that memories of Summer's stunning beauty begin to get clouded.  When those memories get really dark, it's time to take out the Postcards From Maine and shuffle through some of the "good parts" of August's story.

August here is when flowered porches seem to say, "Come in; visit awhile!"

It’s the best of times for the little tourists that have finished the hard work of raising a family and are now resting before their long, tough trip home.

It’s when the flower gardens are overflowing with primary colors; apples are turning red on the boughs, and the woods are bristling with ripening black raspberries that we pick and eat without qualms.

However, for the usually well-coiffed male Wood Duck, its a time to hide in remote marshes; he's now bald and can't fly well due to his summer molt. (He's in his "eclipse" phase.)

Nonetheless, August also is a time for public events. It's the beginning of a two-month country fair season across the state. Town commons and perennial fair sites are filled with amusement park entertainment and, more important, opportunities to celebrate a pastoral way of life.

It's also when prehistoric-looking Pileated Woodpeckers put on summer dinner shows: gobbling fat insects for their entrees, tossing down viburnum berries for their desserts, and then flying off, cackling maniacally.

(A bird that is pileated ["peel-ee-EIGHTed"] is one that has a crest on its pileum, which is the entire top of its head. But, you're cautioned not to confuse the Pileated Woodpecker with another strangely-crested subspecies that also cackled maniacally this August: the Pileated Politician.)

For sailors, August can provide light breezes for contemplative gliding as well as stiff winds for vigorous tacking.

In fact, it’s when some of the most eager sailors have four legs.

In the end, though, August is at its wicked best when you bask in your special place and smile at life.

And, of course, August is much more. To see larger versions of the above images, as well as more images of the month's moments that we'll use to spark our memories, click on the link below. (We suggest that your initial viewing be in full-screen mode. To do that, click on the Slideshow icon [>] above the featured [largest] image in the gallery to which the link will take you.) Here’s the link:

https://leightons.smugmug.com/US-States/Maine/Out/2016-in-Maine/August-Postcards-From-Maine/

Cheers,

Barbara and Dick

At the Union Country Fair

On the Common in Union, Maine

We arrived here at the renowned Union Fair too early in the week to see the advertised Maine Blueberry Queen selection and the Blueberry Spitting Contest, the latter we assume not being part of the former. However, we enjoyed a fine afternoon at the Fair.

This country fair originated in 1869, when visitors arrived by foot, wagon, and carriage; they tied their horses to hitching posts when stables were full. Reports indicate that the hit events then were horse and oxen plowing contests. These were farming families, many with Civil War veteran fathers or War-widowed mothers. It’s hard to imagine what they would think of today’s rides and games, not to mention the popular burrito stand where we had a delicious lunch.

The Union Fair is one of three Maine agricultural fairs that have received considerable attention nation-wide, especially on the East Coast. The other two are the Unity and Blue Hill Fairs, which are held in September. (The Blue Hill Fair was part of the inspiration for E.B. White’s classic Charlotte’s Web.)

One of the most enjoyable aspects of all of these fairs is the participation of children and teenagers in the competitions. Below, a youngster helps her brother who is waiting to be called for a youth "steer pull" and a girl runs her oxen through the complicated “twitch and scoot” course:

The adult events come in fast, slow, and really slow versions, including fast harness racing and slow 2,450-pound oxen pulls. (During a three-minute period, the animals pull a sled piled with concrete blocks totaling the designated weight.)

We confess that we didn’t rise to the occasion and attend the Yeast Roll Judging, which we have to put in the really slow category, notwithstanding its many ardent fans. Mind you, we have nothing against the really slow moments here; some of the slowest – as when owners and animals simply are waiting to be called into an arena – can be studies in magnificent power at rest:

To see larger versions of the above images, as well as a few more images of the Fair, click on the link below. (We suggest that your initial viewing be in full-screen mode. To do that, click on the Slideshow icon [>] above the featured [largest] image in the gallery to which the link will take you.) Here’s the link:

https://leightons.smugmug.com/US-States/Maine/Out/2016-in-Maine/The-Union-Country-Fair/

Cheers,

Barbara and Dick

The Rock Star

On Mount Desert Island, Maine

This is not about David Bowie.

But, it is about a strange and oddly beautiful rock star that makes unique music. Some of you already are fans of this star, judging from the surprising number of requests for information about it, after it first appeared here as an unexplained image in our July Postcards From Maine.

Here’s a new image, one of the star making its music with waves and whistling wind:

This promontory has been a landmark to seafarers for centuries. It’s known as Star Point and it’s located in Salisbury Cove on the north shore of Mount Desert Island. Here’s the star at sunset during low tide:

Salisbury Cove is full of remarkable rock formations formed by glacier activity and erosion.  The geologic reports on the area indicate that much of these is metamorphic shist and flint-like bedrock, plus some petrified ash that arrived after ancient volcanic eruptions. It would appear to our uneducated eyes that Star Point was a compressed combination of hard and relatively soft rock and ash that, over the eons, suffered major wounds in its continuing war with water and wind.

Star Point is not the only attraction here. This rocky shore is now part of the Mount Desert Island Biological Laboratory campus. MDI Bio Lab is very visitor-friendly and community oriented. In fact, it offers regular, fascinating lectures and exhibits to the public, after which one can explore the shore. You may want to scan their website: https://mdibl.org/ .

The art exhibit at MDI Bio Lab now is “A Fresh Field of Life: Artists, Naturalists and the Vision of Acadia.” It celebrates Acadia National Park’s 100th federal anniversary and relationships between art and science. This is a remarkable exhibit of the works of over 40 artists, including a startlingly beautiful rendition of a Red-Winged Blackbird's nest of marbled eggs by Brooklin's Sherry Streeter. The show can be seen via one of the free scheduled tours, for which you may register on the Lab’s website.

Those  of you who want to see larger versions of the Star Point images above, plus a few others, can access them via the link below. (We recommend that the initial viewing be in full-screen mode, which can be achieved by clicking the Slideshow button [>] in the upper right of the gallery to which the link will take you.) Here’s the link:

https://leightons.smugmug.com/Maine/Out/The-Rock-Star/

Cheers,

Barbara and Dick

Five Tall Ones

On Mount Desert Island, Maine, August 2, 2016

We get here about Noon, two hours early, and stake out a good location. The day is sunny, the blue sky full of fast-moving clouds, and the breeze an intermittent thrill. We’re among thousands of people strung along Sargent Drive, overlooking glacier-created Somes Sound. We’re waiting for the “Windjammer Parade” in honor of Acadia National Park’s 100th federal anniversary. Local and visiting sail boats tack impatiently back and forth across the Sound as we talk and eat our fancy sandwiches from Rooster Brothers’ Deli in Ellsworth.

We kill time by checking license plates. Within a short time, cars from 24 states and Ontario pass by desperately looking for a spot; apparently, they didn’t get the message about getting here very early. When we get bored checking license plates, we discuss a relevant curiosity while watching the smaller boats tack and heel.

The curiosity relates to Mount Desert Island:  contrary to its spelling and original meaning, we and most locals intentionally mispronounce its name. The name is Mount “duhZERT” (as in dessert after dinner), not Mount “DEZZert” (as in Sahara desert). Why? Because it always has been called this around here, as far as anyone can remember. That’s a good enough reason in Maine. Besides, most of us call Mount Desert Island “MDI,” anyway.

(We suspect that the local pronunciation has something to do with the accents derived from the early French settlers in this part of the state. But the original meaning seems clear: history has recorded French explorer Samuel de Champlain, who played a part in naming the island, as erroneously stating that the mountains here were bare – desert-like -- when he saw them from far out at sea.)

By the way, MDI is the second largest island on the Atlantic coast, after New York’s Long Island. It contains most of Acadia National Park, many quaint harbors, and Bar Harbor (which isn’t that quaint when it’s crawling with cruise ship tourists).

Somes Sound, where we are now, almost divides MDI in two; it passes through parts of Acadia and has been a great place to sail since well before President Woodrow Wilson designated much of MDI as a national monument in 1916. (Three years later, the monument was redesignated as a national park and named Acadia in honor of the original French colony that was established in Maine and Nova Scotia.)

Our waiting is over at bout 2:30 p.m.! The welcoming Host vessels, fully dressed in their maritime signal flags, form on the far side of the Sound, below Acadia Mountain.

Most of the Host boats are sail boats, but one is a classic Lord Nelson Victory Tug named Loon. She’s a 37-foot luxury tugboat built in 1987 that hails from Southport Island, Maine.

The first windjammer to be welcomed is the Heritage out of Rockport, Maine. She’s a 1983 replica with an overall length of 145 feet and, unusually, a yellow hull.

Next is the Lewis R. French out of Camden, Maine. She’s a refurbished 1871 coastal schooner with an overall length of 101 feet and a gray hull.

Following her is the Isaac H. Evans out of Rockland, Maine. She’s a refurbished 1886 coastal schooner with an overall length of 99 feet and a white hull.

Next is the Angelique, also out of Camden. She’s a 1980 replica with an overall length of 130 feet, a green hull, and unusual tan-bark sails.

Ladona, also out of Rockland, frolicks on the sidelines to the joy of the crowd. She’s a 108-foot refurbished 1922 coastal schooner with a white hull. (Ladona was her original name, but she was known as the Nathaniel Bowditch for a number of interim years.)

After the parade, it was Heritage’s turn to show her speed and pose close to the crowd.

As we pack up after a long and satisfying day, the schooners are led off by a Host boat toward Somes Harbor at the top of the Sound, where most of them will moor overnight. A lone kayak paddler, almost invisible in the middle of the Sound, says a final good bye.

Larger versions of the above images and a few others can be viewed by clicking the link below.  We recommend that your initial screening 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.)  Here's the link:

https://leightons.smugmug.com/Maine/Windjammers-and-Other-Boats/Five-Tall-Ones/

Cheers,

Barbara and Dick

July Postcards From Maine

In Hancock County, Maine

July is when the wonderful days of summer get shorter and shorter as we try to do more and more within each one.

It’s a time to walk under seaside clouds through fields that are starting to turn to autumn colors.

July also can be a time to seek the thrills of fast, cold water.

On the other hand, it’s when we can tidy the front porch for the quiet enjoyment of summer days and evenings.

For many here, it’s a time to hunt the wind over clear waters.

It’s when the smallest and largest of our feathered tourists come here for working vacations.

It’s also a time to enjoy sand between your toes.

July is a lot more than this. We have many memories of the month that we’ll want to refresh from time to time as autumn and winter slide in. To see more of them, click the link below.  (We suggest that your initial viewing be in full screen mode. To do that, click the Slideshow button [>] above the featured image in the gallery.) Here’s the link to that gallery:

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

Cheers,

Barbara and Dick

The Breakthrough

In Brooklin, Maine

This is a tale about historical ingenuity and classical beauty. It begins in the late 19th Century, when lobster fishermen worked the sea in cumbersome sail boats and dories, often alone. Our heroes are Wilbur Morse and a few of his contemporaries whose names seem to have been lost.  They were fishing boat designers and builders on Maine’s mid-coast. Wilbur, the most famous, worked out of the small harbor town of Friendship.

In the 1880s, after years of trying, Wilbur and a few others evolved small-crew fishing boats into more efficient, affordable, classic beauties. (That's the rough equivalent of turning a modern tractor into a more efficient work vehicle that looks like a Ferrari and can be afforded by those who work the land.) These new Maine fishing boats soon became known as Friendship Sloops. They revolutionized lobster fishing and beautified our coastal waters for decades, until motorization made the Friendship Sloops collector’s items for pleasure sailing by those with historical tastes.

Friendships never were a pedigreed “class” of boat that has to meet a host of design standards.  They simply have certain things in common that make them an “I-know-one-when-I-see-one” thing.

A Friendship Sloop has a high, sharp clipper bow that can part waves and reduce pitching and rolling. The boat’s sides sweep down gracefully from the bow to an elliptical stern; and, the gunwales are low to the water, which helps in taking traps or nets in and out of the sea. The highly maneuverable main sail is four-cornered and hoisted on an angled spar pole called a “gaff”; thus, a Friendship is “gaff-rigged.” Above the mainsail, there is a main topsail attached to the topmast when the boat is fully rigged.

An important feature of the Friendship is its  self-tacking staysail (or self-tending jib) above the bow; this three-cornered sail is connected by rope and pulleys to the mainsail apparatus. It frees a solo sailor from the need to go forward and furl or otherwise control jibs; he (and now she) can use a staysail as a jib and let it swing in coordination with the main sail, which is controlled from the cockpit.

And now the story-within-the-story.  The Friendship Sloop shown here is the Belford Gray, which has its own distinctive history. Jon Wilson, the visionary founder of WoodenBoat Publications and the WoodenBoat School, found small-scale plans for her in a 1907 magazine.

Noted naval architect Joel White created construction drawings from the magazine plans, at Jon’s request. These drawings were used by WoodenBoat School students to build the Belford Gray – during six summers of five two-week classes and one four-week class. She was named after a highly regarded Brooklin boat builder and launched in 1992.

For those who are fascinated by nautical numbers, here are some of the Belford Gray’s:

     o   Overall Length: 28’ 6”;

     o   Beam:9’ 6”;

     o   Draft: 5’ 4”;

     o   Sail Area: 636 sq. ft.

She's constructed with northern white cedar on white oak frames.

The many lines and sheets of the Belford Gray are now used as part of a WoodenBoat course on Craft of Sail.  In the images here, instructor Daniel Bennett and his class recently were sailing her fully-rigged in very light air – a beautiful sight, to be sure. But, some would say, the time to see the sensuous beauty of this Friendship Sloop is when she is alone and undressed:

Larger versions of the above images and a few others can be viewed by clicking the link below.  We recommend that your initial screening 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.)  Here's the link:

https://leightons.smugmug.com/Maine/Windjammers-and-Other-Boats/Lobstering-Elegance-The-Friend/

Cheers,

Barbara and Dick Leighton

The Magnificent and the Mundane

In Hancock County, Maine

It’s hard to ignore a female Bald Eagle bearing down on you with a complaint.

She is, in a word, magnificent.  She’s even more magnificent than her magnificent mate because, as with many birds of prey, she’s larger than he is. Her wingspan can approach seven and one half feet. (That’s a size that is not easily appreciable in the open sky, unless you’re capable of imagining a professional basketball center elevated and rotated 90 degrees.)

On the other hand, it’s easy to overlook the drab female Mallard when she is not with her sartorially splendid mate. She never would bear down on anyone, unless her ducklings were threatened.

It’s in that relationship with her ducklings that Mother Mallard becomes awe-inspiring, if not magnificent. That’s part of this strange tale about birds that have little to do with each other (except, perhaps, when Bald Eagles run out of other food).

The story and images here derive primarily from two recent trips. One was to a wooded bend in the Union River in Ellsworth, where eagles often come to show off. The other was to a marsh and lily pond in Brooklin, where a shy Mallard Mom was discovered trying to hide and herd her cavorting ducklings – nine of them, which is not unusual for a Mallard.

What would be unusual for a Mallard would be for the handsome male to do any domestic work. In that, he differs from the male Bald Eagle, which helps his mate with the nesting and raising chores while maintaining his majestic, war-like presence.

The male Mallard's laziness is the probable reason that female Mallards have evolved into drabness: they have to build the nests, incubate the eggs, and raise the ducklings. These are chores best done while inconspicuous.

However, don’t feel too sorry for female Mallards. They do have their Victoria secrets: they and their mates wear matching blue-purple underthings that they flash when they fly. (Well, if you want to get technical: their secondary flying feathers contain an iridescent band, a patch known to birders as a “speculum.”)

As you would expect, a short-winged Mallard’s fast-flapping flight is less graceful than the slow undulations and soaring done on the huge wings of a Bald Eagle. That grace is especially evident when a Bald Eagle turns quickly in the air, swirling its wings like a matador’s cape.

There is, however, such a thing as grace under fire. Keeping a group of frisky ducklings safe in an environment filled with predators is difficult work, which the Mallard Mom does expertly. As of today, each of her totally alert and feeding offspring could fit into a tea cup or sail on a lily pad.

While swimming, these ducklings face danger from below and above. Larger fish and snapping turtles seem to think that they’re candy; coyotes, dogs, and other mammals consider the small birds to be a floating hors dourves tray, and hungry raptors find them to be amusing delicacies. 

In the end, though, the successful Mother Mallard has the last laugh: the Bald Eagle’s slow-maturing and ugly eaglets are not nearly as magnificent as her adorable fuzz balls.

Larger versions of the above images and a few others can be viewed by clicking the link below.  We recommend that your initial screening 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.)  Here's the link:

https://leightons.smugmug.com/Birds/From-Flying-Magnificence-to-Fl/

Cheers,

Barbara and Dick

A Glowing Moment

In Brooklin, Maine, at Dusk on July 10, 2016

There are times here when the elements make visual music the way a great chamber quartet makes aural music – intuitively following leads, changing rhythm, playing together, playing alone, creating something that is both natural and supernatural. Such times here are not rare, but they are unusual, brief, and almost always beautiful.

One of these times materialized, ghost-like, in the early evening after several days of gloomy storms. As the rain gradually stopped, the wind died down to a mere hint, and the sky over Great Cove began to clear slightly in the southwest. The sun arced slowly behind a thick bank of clouds in the west, backlighting that still-overcast area of the sky.  The sea, at ebb, was remarkably still. As the overcast thinned, shafts of white sunlight pierced the clouds to paint the Cove in silver streaks.

Boats stood calm in the Cove, waiting to be stroked by the diffused light when it reached them. As it did, the almost-motionless grace of the boats became a fixed halo over their dancing reflections. Then, the silver light searched elsewhere.

 It was the kind of moment that would make J.M.W. Turner smile.

Meanwhile, fingers of shadow spread within the very wet woods, fields, and gardens bordering the glowing sea. Some of the flowers had been ravaged by the storms, exposing the almost-erotic beauty of their disturbed centers to the lowering light. It was the kind of moment that would make Georgia O'Keefe smile.

Other flowers bejeweled themselves with captured raindrops as the light disappeared.

As darkness won its daily fight, the sky cleared and stars appeared.  The next morning, we awoke to a sunny dawn, blue skies, and a Cove that was rollicking in a stiff breeze.

Larger versions of the above images and a few others can be viewed by clicking the link below.  We recommend that your initial screening 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.)  Here's the link:

https://leightons.smugmug.com/Maine/Out/An-Enchanted-Dusk/

 Cheers,

Barbara and Dick

A Maine Town Celebrates America

In Brooklin, Maine, on July 4, 2016

Independence Day is celebrated here the old-fashioned way: It’s a time for enjoying a small town’s gifts; gossiping with friendly neighbors, and realizing – in one of the most basic ways -- how privileged it is to be an American on a fine day in Maine.

The morning begins with buying a balloon to help the eighth grade and waiting for the parade to start.  It’s summer time and the waiting is easy.  There are many people and dogs to greet. In the background, the remarkably good Brooklin Town Band plays rousing marches and lilting summer tunes under the tall maple trees in front of the Library.

The parade starts on Reach Road near Haven Colony and winds its way down tree-lined country roads – east, past the small Post Office, Brooklin Inn, and Betsy’s Sunflower Store; then, south at the Stop sign -- the Town’s only traffic signal -- onto Naskeag Road, where the General Store is being rebuilt; and, finally, west on Mountain Ash Road to the Town Green. 

Leading the parade are four veterans who no longer are young, but who still can march a couple of miles or so, sometimes in unison. One of these men carries the Stars and Stripes, one carries a military rifle from a prior era, the other two carry veterans’ organization flags. People clap as the Nation’s flag reaches them; the flag, in turn, waves gently in a slightly-sea-scented breeze.

Thus begins the annual Brooklin July 4th parade. Fire trucks and rescue equipment from Brooklin and neighboring towns get priority positions – our taxes tangibly at work in glistening red equipment that speeds on fat tires, has sirens, and even protects us. One or two fire trucks from the past usually appear, as well.

There also are the antique and vintage cars. Collecting old automobiles is a popular hobby in Maine, especially for those who have heated garages in which to spend evenings and winter weekends trying to keep these disappearing vehicles not only operational, but beautiful.

The rest of the Brooklin parade is an exercise in creative eccentricity. There are floats and other large, homemade mobile displays that differ each year.  One especially intriguing display this year was a pair of huge ospreys that “flew” over the parade route on sticks borne by their creators (à la the Muppets or Lion King characters).

Interspersed within the parade are those who simply want to strut and pedal: a bag-piper in Elton John sunglasses,; children on decorated bikes, and other happy travelers.

Barbecued chicken, hot dogs, and all the trimmings await everyone at the Town Green, where the Brooklin Band once again provides a background of summer music for more socializing.

Of course, there also are games for the young, including the infamous Brooklin wet sponge throw.

And, there is more. Larger versions of the above images and others can be viewed by clicking the link below.  We recommend that your initial screening 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.)  Here's the link:

https://leightons.smugmug.com/Maine/Out/July-4th-2016-in-Brooklin/

Cheers,

Barbara and Dick

June Remembered: Postcards From Maine

In Brooklin, Maine

June was named by the Romans in honor of Juno, their goddess of marriage and eternal youth. And, in Maine, the month is true to those sentiments: June is a time for marriages and for youthful states of mind. Astronomically, summer begins at June's solstice, the 21st. Weather-wise, however, it’s not that simple here: spring is short and summer always begins suddenly and gloriously at some unpredictable time in June. We find out that summer has returned when we forget winter and begin to feel younger by just looking out the window.

In June, the fallow fields here seem to erupt with wild flowers overnight.

Among these are luminous wild Lupines (“Lew-Pins”), a signature legume here that ancient peoples cultivated for its edible beans.

Bashful Wild ("Blue Flag") Irises can be found hiding among other flowers and grasses in the fields.

The June gardens burst with early-blooming perennials and annuals, including startling red-orange Poppies and soothing magenta Peonies. 

June is when sailboats are loosed upon the clear waters of Brooklin’s Great Cove to hunt for wind in sun and fog.

Picturesque schooners begin to arrive in the Cove in June. Ironically, the business of these sparkling windjammers is taking well-off summer tourists sightseeing. This is quite different from the desperately hard and dangerous journeys that schooners originally took around here. In their time, these ships’ holds and decks often were overloaded with granite, coal, wood, and other commodities; they sailed in all seasons, and, sometimes, they were covered in grime and ice. But not today.

After terrestrial winter vacations, many lobster boats are returned to their element in June to work the sea hard for six months or so.

By about mid-June, the big deciduous trees are in full leaf and their branches reach out to each other, creating a high canopy over the woods. Where once full sun lit up the trails, there now is dappled light that dances to the wind’s tunes. One can find serenity here just by being still and letting it seep in.

June also is when Black Bears discover and destroy bird feeders. We’ve come to rationalize this as nature’s way of letting us know that it’s time to stop feeding our feathered friends so that they can concentrate on propagating wild flowers and gulping insects.

It's also the time when White Tail Does give birth well within the woods, where they hide and nurse their fawns two to three times a day.

And there’s much more to June. The short virtual tour of moments that we'll use to help us remember the month can be viewed by clicking the link below.  We recommend that your initial screening 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.)  Here's the link:

https://leightons.smugmug.com/Maine/Out/June-Postcards-From-Maine/i-KcQrTZ5

Cheers,

Barbara and Dick

A Fishing Tale

In Harford County, Maryland, June 10, 2016

We’re at the base of the Conowingo Hydroelectric Dam, which spans the Susquehanna River near the Maryland-Pennsylvania border. Fish swimming up the River are blocked here by the Dam, except when the fish ladders are working; fish swimming down the River get sucked into the Dam’s turbines and are spit out on the other side, dazed or dead.

Fish predators wait for the fish on the downstream side of the Dam, where we wait. We focus on the Bald Eagles, Ospreys, Great Blue Herons, and Double-Crested Cormorants, each of which has its favored mode of hunting.  

The Eagles often perch in the big trees on the ridge above the River, where they are virtually hidden in summer.  It’s hard for an Eagle to hide completely, however: its wing span can exceed seven feet (that’s a professional basketball center rotated 90 degrees) and It can weigh up to 14 pounds.

Bald Eagles tend to circle above their scaly prey, swoop down, pluck the fish neatly from the water, and then arc upward. They can reach up to 99 miles an hour in a dive.

The Ospreys usually take their meals to nests outside the area, where the Eagles can’t steal from them. An Osprey is mostly wings – it weighs only about three pounds, but its angled wings can span up to six feet. It sometimes hunts by the circle-and-pluck method like an Eagle; however, an Osprey often hovers like a helicopter high above the water, tips over and power dives straight down, head first until the last second.  This bird can reach up to 80 miles-a- hour this way, knock a big fish silly, disappear under the water while gripping it, swim up with its wings, and fly off with the prey.

Great Blue Herons also can pluck a fish from deep water while flying or while briefly floating like a duck, but usually that prey is a dead or dying fish on the surface.  These birds, for the most part, fish from a still stance in shallow waters. They can reach four feet in standing height, weigh almost eight pounds, and have a wingspan of over six-and-one-half feet.

A standing Great Blue that sees a nearby fish will coil its long neck, slowly move its spear-shaped head toward its unsuspecting prey, and then strike like a snake into and below the water.  As often as not, it will emerge from the imploded water with an amazed fish in its sharp beak.

Unlike the others, a Double-Crested Cormorant usually swims below the surface after its prey, using powerful webbed feet and, sometimes, its wings. This prehistoric-looking bird’s bright blue eyes pierce the murky depths and its hooked and serrated beak can grab and hold not only slippery fish, but ultra-slippery eels.

The Cormorant can weigh up to five-and-one-half pounds, be almost three feet long, and have a wingspan of up to four feet.

The waters below Conowingo Dam contain larger predators than those mentioned here, but these are far from self-sufficient and much less interesting.

For full-size versions of these and a few other images, click the link below.  We recommend that your initial screening be a slideshow.  (To make that happen, click on the Slideshow button [>] above-and-to-the-right of the featured image on the gallery page to which the link will take you.)  Here's the link:

https://leightons.smugmug.com/Maryland/A-Fishing-Tale-June-7-13-2016/i-qv9X6Pt

Cheers,

Barbara and Dick

Blue Sky Returns to Blue Water

In Brooklin, Maine, on May 31 and June 1, 2016

Blue Sky is a fine-looking fishing vessel.  She spends her winters on land here, sailing the snow while her owners enjoy the warmer climes of Florida. 

In June, however, Blue Sky is reintroduced to the wild where she belongs, an interesting process that is the focal point of today’s Journal entry.  But first, some background. 

Neighbors Sandy and John White own and run Blue Sky. They and an additional crew member fish for lobsters off the boat. As such, they’re part of Maine’s vaunted lobster industry.

According to state data for 2015, Maine fishermen brought in – “landed” -- over 121 million pounds (live weight) of the delicious crustaceans, which was worth more than $495 million.

As for Blue Sky, she was Maine-built in 2004 at the RP Boat Shop; she’s 35 feet long; almost 14 feet wide, and her gross weight is 20 tons, according to her registration data. 

Getting a vessel of Blue Sky's size to the water is not a job for the local AAA towing service.  However, it is a job that is not unusual in coastal Maine towns, where big boats traveling down Main Streets don’t generate many gawkers.

There are several ways to get a commercial fishing vessel into the water.  Blue Sky is taken by a hefty Mack truck cab trailing a large-load boat cradle in which the vessel nests.

It’s just a short ride from Blue Sky's winter site to the sophisticated launching equipment of the famous Brooklin Boat Yard at Center Harbor.  (The Yard is owned and run by John’s brother, Steve. There’s interesting history here: the brothers are the sons of Joel and Allene White. Joel, who died in 1997, was the nationally- acclaimed naval architect who started the Yard; Allene, who continues to live here, was a locally-acclaimed newspaper columnist. Joel, in turn, was the son of E.B. ["Andy"] White, Brooklin’s most famous author, and Katherine White, respected Editor of Fiction for the New Yorker. E.B. and Katherine are buried in the Brooklin Cemetery.)  

Back to Blue Sky as she enters the Brooklin Boat Yard:  one of the better makes of motorized boat hoists (a Marine Travelift®) is driven over. It straddles the boat on the trailer bed and the hoist’s heavy-duty slings are slipped under her. The slings are raised to lift her slowly out of her cradle. Then, the suspended boat is driven by the hoist to a nearby slip between two hoist-tracked piers that jut into the clear waters of Eggemoggin Reach.

Big boats need to be launched from this slip at high tide, but the tide was fairly low when Blue Sky arrived in the afternoon.  Therefore, she was suspended over the incoming water like a huge jewel displayed on a simple necklace. There she remained overnight.

At about 7 a.m. the following morning, Blue Sky was lowered into the high tide; Sandy and John boarded her; the slings were relaxed, and John reversed her out of the slip.

She swung to port, veered around Chatto Island, and traveled the very short distance to her mooring in Naskeag Harbor at the end of our peninsula.

That was the easy part.  Soon, 800 lobster traps will need to loaded, launched, and tended regularly. But Sandy and John don’t seem to be daunted.

For larger and additional images of Blue Sky’s return, click the link below.  We recommend that your initial screening be a full-frame slideshow.  (To make that happen, click on the Slideshow button [>] above-and-to-the-right of the featured image on the gallery page to which the link will take you.)  Here's the link:

https://leightons.smugmug.com/Maine/Windjammers-and-Other-Boats/Blue-Sky-Returns-to-Blue-Water/n-sPNgMs/

Cheers,

Barbara and Dick

Postcards From Maine: May Remembered

In Hancock County

May is when spring sweeps through here like a luminous green fog.  Leaf buds are liberated; grasses arise from the dead, and still waters become canvases for reflected impressionism.

Faster waters share their wild beauty with those who don't mind a cold embrace. 

Unseen Spring Warblers, deep within thickets, trill arpeggios and then briefly appear to take a bow or, sometimes, sing an encore.

The flowering trees wear pink, white, and purple flourishes; quince, always outrageous, parades in orange.

Male goldfinches turn yellower and yellower like oil lamps slowly lighting up.

A Muskrat glides silently in a lily pond where Green Frogs and Painted Turtles suddenly appear by slight of nature’s hand.

A Male Red-Winged Blackbird guards his small kingdom in the marshes, loudly challenging all who come near; his much-different-looking mate quietly does the hard work of building their nest.

A Red Squirrel eyes a Garter Snake slithering quickly out in the open, going from one dark hiding place to another.

Lobster boats are maneuvered slowly into the cove at high tide; smaller craft speedily cleave low tide, sending tremors through calm waters.

The lowering tide reveals an elegant undersea palace once owned by a royal urchin.

May’s special days are honored by some in special ways: a mother works on Mothers’ Day; folk art flies on Memorial Day.

And more. The full virtual tour of moments that we'll use to help us remember May can be viewed by clicking the link below.  We recommend that your initial screening be a full-frame slideshow.  (To make that happen, click on the Slideshow button [>] above-right the featured [largest] image on the gallery page to which the link will take you.)  Here's the link:

https://leightons.smugmug.com/Maine/Out/May-Postcards-From-Maine/i-jdV2hL4

Cheers,

Barbara and Dick

The Claim Jumper

In Brooklin, Maine

They’re reinvigorating one of the attractive old connected houses here -- new tin roof, white paint, inside work – but there’s a slight problem.

One of our socially mobile residents has decided that the spiffy restoration will be a better environment to raise her young than the places that those of her kind usually can afford. She’s laid claim to the place with a notice right above the front door.  But you have to look closely.

There she sits defiantly, on the entablature below some of the old dental molding.  Home sweet home for a while.

Thanks to eagle-eyed Rich Hilsinger for pointing her out.  (Or is that robin-eyed Rich …?)

Those who want larger versions of these images can click on this link for the gallery:

https://leightons.smugmug.com/Maine/Out/The-Uninvited-Guest/

Cheers,

Barbara and Dick

The Reluctant Migrant

Trenton, Maine

A mystery is unfolding here at Bar Harbor Airport.  One of the many Canadians who entered the United States this winter refuses to go back north, even though all of his fellow migrants apparently did so long ago.  He even still wears his winter finery while the temperatures poke into the 70’s here lately.  No one has seen anything like it.

He’s a young male Snowy Owl, whom we’ll call Bubo for short. (The scientific name for Snowies is Bubo scaniacus.) As do many owls, Bubo spends most of his days sleeping or watching the world go by with slow turns of his head.  But, unlike other owls, Bubo is not inconspicuous. 

Snowies aren’t comfortable in dense foliage; they come from tundra country where there are no trees.  They’re happy to sit (and nest) on the ground or perch on a fence post or utility pole that will give them a wide vista.  When the snow disappears and the sky is blue, it’s not hard to see a Snowy – they seem to flare light. Here's Bubo "hiding":

But Bubo couldn’t care less. His problem is that, in the past few years, there have been too many Snowies up north competing for territories.  He and many of his younger colleagues have been forced to spend their winters in the United States, where U.S. birders find them delightful.

Bubo doesn't find the attention that he is getting delightful.  However, he seems to be unfazed (if not bored) by it, even though it is world-wide. (Some local birders, including Mary Alley and Michael Good, keep regular tabs on Bubo; they report his continuing unusual status to the world at large through the Cornell Lab’s E-Bird Alert System.)

For those who want to see a few more images of Bubo, click on the link below.  We suggest that you use the Slideshow function to see him full-screen.  Here’s the link:

https://leightons.smugmug.com/Birds/The-Reluctant-Migrant/

Cheers,

Barbara and Dick

Postcards From Maine: April Remembered

In Hancock County, Maine

April here is full of tantalizing promises of good things to come. Millions of buds dot our leafless deciduous trees; migratory birds and fish return as our earliest tourists, and many of our wild residents are changing into their spring clothes and doing some courting.  However, although it’s spring according to the celestial calendar, it’s not spring as advertised in lower latitudes.

Except for the blooming of a few daffodils and a forsythia bush here and there, April in Down East Maine is a meteorological grab bag: many cool-to-cold days, especially on the coast where the winds come to play; some gloomy days, some spectacularly beautiful days, and the rest somewhere in between; some fog and rain, and a little snow (as late as April 26 this year). In short, April is the beginning of a tunnel of anticipation that ends in the splendor of Maine’s summer and fall.

April’s delights include the return of the Ospreys. These sleek fish hunters glide and hover high above our waters on five- and six-foot wings while calling to each other with sharp “chereeks”; they plunge in full power dives, outstretched talons first, hitting the water and their prey with tremendous force. They often disappear below the surface before they emerge with a tightly-gripped fish that never knew what hit it.

On the other end of April’s wildlife spectrum here, the insects begin to emerge and the Warblers begin to return to eat them.  These small birds that flit and sparkle among the branches are best seen before those branches sprout leaves.  (However, that’s not to say that they are easy to see in April; you often can hear them singing from the depths of a leafless tree or bush and spend half an hour straining your eyes without seeing a feather.)

White-Tailed Deer and Wild Turkeys are among our full-time residents that change in April.  The month is when the deer shed their thick, gray winter coats for lighter, russet-colored summer attire with no underfur. During the process, they can look a bit shabby.

On the other hand, April is when the adult male turkeys are at their sartorial finest in performing their strut-and-rut routine.  These Toms put on a bizarre fashion parade for the hens, moving slowly back and forth while dragging their wings on the ground, then turning around and doing it again, all the while pumped up like a fan-tailed Sumo wrestler in an iridescent suit.  (For a more detailed description of turkey strutting, see the Journal entry of April 18, below.)

One of the few other colorful April sights is the emergence of that hardy species known as the Early Bird Kayakers. Local paddling classes begin late in the month and cater to a crowd that doesn’t worry about sitting an inch above 48-degree water on a chilly day.  This amuses other local mammals, including Harbor Seals.  

If you want to take the whole 60-second virtual tour of moments that we'll use to remember April, click the link below.  We recommend that your initial screening 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.)  Here's the link:

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

Cheers,

Barbara and Dick

On the Matter of Male Strutting

It’s the time of the year when certain ugly natives of America strut what they consider to be their male magnificence. We’re not talking about political candidates, by the way. We have in mind the Wild Turkey Toms that are roaming our woods and fields trying to herd harems of hens or fighting other Toms for the right to do so.  The hens also are ugly, but not to the Toms, which puff and strut in the females’ periphery, eagerly awaiting the telltale flutter that signals a hen’s readiness for him to do what he has to do for the survival of the species and his own blood pressure.

Which brings us to the ugly, but necessary, subjects of snoods, wattles, caruncles, and breast beards.  Research has indicated that Wild Turkey hens are influenced to volunteer for harem duty by the size of a Tom’s snood. The snood is a fleshy bump above the beak when the Tom is not showing off; when he gets into a romantic mood and starts to strut, the snood gets engorged and lengthens into a red organ that droops down over the beak. 

Strutting Tom

The snood is just one part of the fleshy display of a strutting Tom that only a female Wild Turkey would consider handsome.  He has wattles on his neck and throat and these are covered by blood-sensitive bumps (caruncles), which also get engorged into a wrinkled red mass.  At the base of the neck are two “major caruncles” that inflame into red, testicle-like objects. The face and forehead of the Tom in spring is an eerie blue; a large ear hole punctures the side of his face. On top, he sports a gray or white head crown.

The truly magnificent aspect of the display of a strutting Tom has to do with his feathers, many of which are iridescent.  Depending on the light, these can gleam bronze, black, green, gray, and white.  When strutting, the Tom puffs out his breast feathers into two enormous mounds; centered between those breasts is one or more “beards” – specialized feathers that hang down like a Scottish sporran.

The Wild Turkey Strut begins with the Tom puffing himself out to almost twice his size, making a big bird bigger.  (Toms can be almost four feet long and usually weigh up to 24 pounds, although there have been some found weighing well over 30 pounds.)

While puffing out his chest, the strutting Tom flares his tail feathers (rectors and coverts) into a large fan, raises his back and body feathers, opens his wings slightly, and drags his primary wing feathers on the ground as he steps slowly.  It's not unusual to see contests with two to five Toms strutting their stuff in the neighborhood of one or more hens, which often pay no attention.  

Once impregnated, the hens scratch out a nest on the ground in protected parts of the woods and incubate their eggs, which often produce poults before the end of April. 

If you want to see a few more (larger) images on this subject, click the link below.  We recommend that your initial screening 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.)  Here's the link:

https://leightons.smugmug.com/Birds/Wild-Turkey-Strutting/

Cheers,

Barbara and Dick

Survival of the Fittest

In Hancock County, Maine, on April 3, 2016

It’s a cloudy Sunday in Stonington Harbor. It's also cold for an April afternoon (35 degrees Fahrenheit), with ripping winds of up to 12 knots that numb our cheeks. We're putting up with some discomfort to try to identify what at first appears to be pieces of red jetsam moving on the incoming tide toward a pier float, where a few people are huddled.

It soon becomes apparent that we’re watching fishermen swimming slowly on their backs in rubberized immersion suits, also known as survival or exposure suits. (These garments also are called Gumbies by some, for reasons that are apparent.)  We’ve come upon one of the drills offered on weekends in harbors along the coast to allow commercial fishermen to satisfy Coast Guard and State safety training requirements.

Commercial fishing is one of the most dangerous occupations in the United States. According to the federal Bureau of Labor Statistics, it is the most lethal occupation when viewed by the number of fatalities; and, according to those same statistics, most fatalities occur when fishing off the East Coast.  (Fishing off Alaska is second.) The primary causes of such deaths are major vessel mishaps in rough and cold waters (breakups, rollovers, etc.) and fishermen falling or being dragged into the sea.

Under the regulations, a commercial fisherman is one who seeks and sells “fish,” which are defined as fin fish (e.g., swordfish), mollusks (clams and scallops), and crustaceans (lobsters and crabs).  Judging by the talk on the float, our swimmers are mostly lobster and scallop fishermen and it appears that they are of both sexes (although Gumby suits make such determinations educated guesses).

Based on Internet advertising, the cost of Coast Guard-approved Immersion suits ranges between about $400.00 and $600.00. Most appear to be of the one-size-fits-all variety, which makes smaller people more Gumby-like.

Federal requirements for the use of such suits and other more expensive survival equipment are keyed to fishing in dangerously “cold water,” which is defined as water that has a monthly low temperature average of below 59 degrees.  Thus, depending on where you are and when you are there, you may not be subject to the cold water regulations.  However, if you’re fishing in Maine, you’re in such cold water all year.

Cold water robs the body of heat 32 times faster than cold air. Hypothermia is the danger: the colder the water in which one is immersed, the quicker the muscles and organs begin to cease functioning until there is unconsciousness and the lungs and heart stop; death comes as a relief.  Immersion suits, which are designed to keep survivors "comfortably" on their backs with heads out of the water, can provide hours of protection during which a rescue may be made.

Today, the reported temperature of the water here is 38 degrees.  The medical data show that, in waters between 30 and 40 degrees, swimmers without immersion suits can expect to be exhausted or unconscious within 15 to 30 minutes of their being immersed and dead within 30 to 90 minutes. Getting out of the water into a raft would increase survival chances 15 percent.

If you want to see a few more (larger) images on this short, 10-second subject, click the link below.  We recommend that your initial screening 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.)  Here's the link:

https://leightons.smugmug.com/Maine/Out/Survival-of-the-Fitest/

Cheers,

Barbara and Dick

Postcards From Maine: March Remembered

In Hancock County

For some old-timers here, March is the time to check their Christmas wreathes to see if there is any green left that needs to be used up; if so, April will do fine to take down those decorations.  No sense being wasteful.

Our March contains no dazzling clouds of pink and white Japanese Cherry blossoms to distract us. Instead, we get displays of every kind of weather and a few subtle stirrings of a Spring that will come when it’s ready.

Nonetheless, March this year was more than enough for those who are willing to take their beauty where they find it.  One place we found it was in the perfect clarity that occurs when a low sun eases through a very cold day to light up a working harbor.

There also were unexpectedly warm days of sepia light when jackets and sweaters were peeled off while walking the graceful curves of country lanes. There was March snow, but not like last year’s revenge of the Winter Witch.  This year, we had a designer snow of about six tailored inches of white purification.

During all this, the Canada Geese returned in their arrow-head flights and American Robins swarmed the fields; the male American Goldfinches began to blush yellow and grow black caps; Purple Finches appeared like large raspberries on drab bushes, and all the birds showed signs of surging hormones.

The Maple Trees did their own surging, surrendering their precious Spring sap drop by drop through embedded spiles (taps).  (Maine ranks third among the states in maple syrup production, after Vermont and New York, but the Canadian provinces are the really big producers.)

The surging continued with the annual March migration of American Eels (Anguilla rostrata) in their Elver phase.  Except for dark eye dots and a spinal cord, these young eels are transparent; hence, they’re commonly called Glass Eels.  They’re usually between three and four inches long at this time and almost invisible to predators. 

They were spawned south of Bermuda in the Sargasso Sea by parents that grew up mostly in North American east coast fresh water lakes, rivers, and streams. By some instinct that is not fully known, the Elvers swim to their dead parents’ fresh water origins.  Once there, they have to run a gauntlet of Fyke (“Fick”) funnel nets set by fishermen near the mouths of these waters.  (Some fisherman use less efficient dip nets.)

These eels are valuable at this young stage, usually selling for over $1000.00 per pound.  (Their daily price yesterday was $1200.00 per pound in Ellsworth.)  Elvers caught here usually are air-freighted live to Asia, where they are raised to maturity in aqua farms and then sold as a delicacy.  (They’re the only aquaculture species that has to be caught in the wild, which is one of the reasons why they are expensive.) Those that survive the nets, ospreys, eagles, and other predators here spend years maturing in our fresh waters and then, as 20-inch, nontransparent adults, they get a mysterious feeling and swim off to the Sargasso Sea to spawn.

A different form of migration occurs here on March 17, St. Patrick’s day, when the Irish and the Irish-at-Heart can return to another liquid source: the Irish Pub beneath the Brooklin Inn, both run by neighbor Chip Angell. The day was celebrated here differently by neighbor Jean Fuller with one of her more enigmatic road banners -- a pink flamingo wearing an Irish buckled top hat, dancing on green shamrocks! (Irish dandy Oscar Wilde probably would have loved the paradoxes.)

Speaking of enigmas, we studied Common Eiders during March and were puzzled by some of their behavior when they weren’t aware that we were watching. Hundreds of these large ducks would float into fast-moving water, intentionally get caught in the current, and then return to calm waters by collectively churning the water with their big webbed feet and “swimming” with their wings in the water; then, they would repeat the process three and four times.  They didn’t attempt to eat from the churned bottom.  (Gulls would dive into the churn to eat, but the Eiders would eat before or much later.)  Any theories as to what was happening?

If you want to take the whole 60-second virtual tour of moments that we'll use to remember March, click the link below.  We recommend that your initial screening 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.)  Here's the link:

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

Cheers,

Barbara and Dick