In the Right Place

Winston Churchill once described Russia as a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma. Here we have a dilemma, wrapped in a controversy, inside a trap. Beavers are dilemmas to many wildlife lovers here.

The animals are attracted to rural ponds that catch rain run-off and provide an extra resource for fire truck pumpers where there are no hydrants. If only beavers would act like muskrats in the ponds. But, most beavers seem unable to leave alone any culvert that channels water under unpaved country roads; they industriously damn the culverts and flood the roads.

In less sensitive times, this furry fellow would have been part of someone’s outrageous hat by now. Today, however, he is trapped humanely and chauffeured to a wetland paradise. (Brooklin, Maine)

Memorial Day 2017

The native Abenaki people named our narrow peninsula “Naskeag,” meaning “the end,” a term that has more than one connotation for us today.

We want to think about and honor American veterans, past and present. We drive down the peninsula on Naskeag Road, which ends at Naskeag Harbor.

The Harbor is where a Revolutionary War skirmish took place in 1778 and was later memorialized as The Battle of Naskeag; it will be our second stop.

We stop first about a mile before the Harbor at a picturesque place that has meant an ending for area residents for many years: historic Naskeag Cemetery, which is the smaller of the Town’s two public cemeteries. We walk under the old wooden arch, between two flowering crabapple trees in peak bloom.

Birds are singing as we enter the white-picket-fenced grounds, but no one else is there. We see among the many stones 21 sites that are adorned by staked American flags waiving in the breeze, calling attention to the veterans buried below them.

The most prominent of these is the Reed burial area, the only one enclosed in a pen. It contains the gravestone of William Reed, a Captain who served in the Revolutionary War. He died and was buried here in 1790, three years after the Constitution of the United States was signed. 

We're drawn to a burial area that's far from prominent. In fact, it's almost hidden and would be hard to notice if there were no flag flying there. It's in perhaps the most beautiful part of the Cemetery, under a flowering crabapple tree that's scattering its blossoms onto the flat marker sunk into the grass.

Here lies Virgil N. Gray who was a private in World War I. He died at the age of 70 and was buried here in 1961.

We guess that Virgil would like his spot.

Elsewhere, the grave stones indicate that there are other veterans here of World Wars I and II and the Korea action. No veteran of the American Civil War was indicated, which is a bit surprising, given Maine’s significant contribution to that most deadly war for Americans.

Going from stone to stone, we try to conjure the spirits of these dead veterans, but we can’t. However, there may be a clue here. They or their loved ones ordered that their military service be inscribed permanently over their final resting places.

That’s pride in service; a conviction that they did something important in the military, which is a complicated way of saying that they felt patriotic. In today’s era, which is rife with expressions of false patriotism and cynicism for the real thing, that’s a refreshing thought.

As we leave Naskeag Cemetery, the crabapple blossom petals are spiraling down and apricot-pink blooms are peaking on a big flowering quince near Captain Reed’s marker. The birds never stopped singing while we were there.

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place

It’s the last Sunday in May and we’ve awakened within a glorious natural cathedral.

The wild grasses and sedges are turning from brown to lush green on the slopes of North Field; in Great Cove beyond the field, the tide is low, reflecting Babson Island and giving us twice as much of her beauty; several rough brushstrokes of cloud are giving depth and character to the blue sky over Deer Isle on the horizon; it’s cool, but not cold.

Sublime. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place

Flowering Quince, an ornamental bush that is highly regarded in Japan, is now in full bloom here. This bush (Chaenomeles), with its unusual apricot-pink Quince flowers, is not to be confused with the Quince Tree (Cydonia oblonga), which bears edible, pear-like fruit.

Flowering Quince is among our first Spring bloomers, providing much-needed sustenance to the early bees and other early nectar-eating pollinators. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place

There are 18 types of sandpipers that scamper along the coasts of North America, 15 of which vacation in Maine. Some have impressive names, such as the Greater Yellowlegs, Semipalmated, Ruddy Turnstone, Buff-Breasted, and Solitary Sandpipers. But, that’s not so for the hard-working piper in the image below.

She and her mate, unfortunately, were baptized as Least Sandpipers by the ornithological priests. Yes, she and her type are the smallest shorebirds in the world at six inches in length. But, why identify them by the disparaging adjective Least when Diminutive would be more accurate? How would you like to be classified as among the Least Human? (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place

Our Spring is different; it comes late and short here. We’ve already gotten dandelions, of course, but we’re still waiting for the star flowers to bloom in the mossy woods. Nonetheless, our Spring sights now include mooring mushrooms blooming once again at the woods’ edge – a sure sign of unique beauty to come.

This variety of mushroom is a several-hundred-pound anchor with a large chain to which a heavy rope is attached, to which a lighter rope and a bright mooring buoy are attached. These stems are being prepared to submerge in Great Cove, where graceful sailboats will be attracted to the colorful, bobbing buoys like hummingbirds to honeysuckle. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place

It’s good to be back. The image below is part of the “Beautiful Brooklin” show of high-definition photographs that will open at the Brooklin Inn with a reception on June 3 (3:30-5:30 p.m.). The photograph was taken at The Lookout Inn on Flye Point.

It’s titled “Gone” because it evokes the ghost of a person who, shortly before she died, would sit for hours watching a familiar scene that had remained essentially the same for centuries. She could feel and see small changes being made in her moment. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place

In the Right Place will be suspended for about two weeks while we’re traveling.

In the meantime, pull up a chair and watch how quickly the 12-foot tide comes in at Center Harbor. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place

(Issued May 13, 2017) You’d think our Male Wild Turkeys would get exhausted from putting on seemingly endless performances of The Strut. These faux peacocks actually are performing an engineering and chemical feat.

They’re flexing an interconnected series of muscles in their skin to erect imbedded body and tail feathers – try to picture a pumped up body builder flexing in unison his trapezius, triceps, biceps and latissimus dorsi muscles; now attach feathers to him that can billow into three times his body size, then ask him to repeat the pose hundreds of times a day for weeks. The Toms also are simultaneously contracting blood vessels in their heads to change skin color and lengthen their snoods. All for “love” (attracting hens) and “hate” (warning away other Toms). (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place

You know that “The Season” is starting here in Sailing Country when boathouse doors are left open, as if to encourage the spring light to gently awaken the hibernating inhabitants.

The most eager sailors are getting their boats into Eggemoggin Reach before Memorial Day.

Vessels are being returned to the water daily

The great majority of boats will be happily in their element by July 4.

Getting the boats into the water is just the prelude to getting them in sailing shape, which can be a complicated process.

Slowly, one by one, our sailing harbors are filling with hulls and masts -- things are beginning to look normal again.

Center Harbor, home of the Brooklin Boatyard, is shown here. Soon, Great Cove, home of the WoodenBoat School, will be receiving the School's fleet and other boats that moor there. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place

The White-Tailed Deer are starting to molt. Their heavy grayish overcoats are being replaced by lighter reddish-brown sports clothes.

While this is happening, however, the deer look like they’ve been attacked by a mad barber. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place

Abundant rain has turned parts of the woods into gentle bogs, where the Skunk Cabbages take sweeping bows after performing their magic trick of arising out of dark waters.

These are wildflower plants named after their reaction to being hurt: When their leaves are crushed, they emit a foul odor that wards off humans and many other mammals. But bees, butterflies, and other pollinators love them.

Some gardeners plant Skunk Cabbages at strategic points within their gardens to repel squirrels and raccoons and attract bees and butterflies.

We have the Eastern Skunk Cabbage, which emerges out of purple husks (spathes); the Western version grows out of yellow husks. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place

Greater Yellowlegs Sandpipers are back, cursing the world loudly, running awkwardly after small fish in the shallows, and constantly bobbing their too-small heads like penitents. Their name begs the questions: “Greater than what?” and “Who gets to give weird common names to birds, anyway?”  

The American and International Ornithologists Unions create and issue lists of bird names based on bird structure, appearance, DNA, and other traits. It’s a mysterious process that has named a bird with no trace of red on its belly a Red-Bellied Woodpecker.

The name of our Greater Yellowlegs here is more logical: It’s larger than the similar Lesser Yellowlegs. Bird common names may vary with the language; their Latin scientific names are unvarying. However, few people will shout, “Look! There’s a Tringa melanoleuca!!”(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place

Many of the fern fiddleheads in the bogs are now harvestable delicacies. Some are just emerging and will be ready in a few days. Fiddleheads are the tops of ferns just before they unspool into lacy plants. All fiddleheads have toxins, but some have a tolerable amount if cooked well.

Around here, the Ostrich Fern fiddleheads are preferred for the table; Bracken and some other fiddleheads are too toxic to eat. Safe fiddleheads are eaten hot, with hollandaise, butter, garlic, vinegar, lemon or other sauce; they’re also eaten cold (after being cooked) in salads with any dressing. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place

As this is being written, the sun is trying to fight through clouds and fog, and it’s hard to tell who’s winning the bout. It all started Wednesday, May 3, when this image was taken. The clouds collected and curtained off a beautiful morning that day.

Since then, we’ve mostly had overcast, drenching rain, and fog – until the sun picked another fight this morning. We’re rooting for the sun, but the smart meteorology money is on continued dreary weather for a few days. We’ve decided to make believe that it’s May 3. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place

This is No. 136 in our Abstract Reality Series, another example of Mother Nature’s talent in composing beach art from flotsam. In the real world, however, it’s a lost bait bag that has washed up on sea weed.

These bags are stuffed with herring (or another bait, such as pogies/menhaden). The filled bags are put into a trap or hung over the side of a boat to attract lobster, crab, or fish. Their bright colors make them easier to see. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place

It’s a misty morning at the marsh pond. The cat tails are still in last year’s winter-brown leaves. The water is a polished stage awaiting performers. There is profound silence while the hidden owners of the pond decide whether to try to overcome their fear of humans. We try to do the same with the fears and uncertainties that are cancerous to our human contentment. We try to let the pond absorb these poisons from us like a poultice.

Soon, the misty performance slowly resumes – peeps, croaks, bird song and chattering, the burbling of water by something small and unseen; a heron, previously unseen, takes a step that parts some cat tails. We’ve come to an inter-species peace. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place

Female Tree Swallows are building their nests now and will be incubating eggs within two weeks, if weather conditions allow. Males share the feeding chores and sometimes help with incubating.

A pair of these fast-flying acrobats needs a daily diet of about 6,000 small insects – all caught in the air – to feed themselves and their four to seven fledglings. Extended periods of spring cold and rain (when small insects don’t fly) can have a devastating effect on the birds. Tree Swallows not only eat on the fly, they drink and bathe while skimming over still water. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place

As this is being written, I occasionally look up and into a beautiful, clear morning of blue sky, blue water, and greening landscape. Yesterday was different. We were shrouded in dense fog and steady rain. But those two weather pals can create their own beauty, especially in one of our four harbors.

This image, taken yesterday, is of one of the first sailboats that have reappeared. She’s at Center Harbor, home of the Brooklin Boatyard and the Center Harbor Yacht Club. Great Cove is the harbor for WoodenBoat School’s fleet and many visiting sailboats, including tourist schooners. Sailboats also moor in the Benjamin River, home of the Benjamin River Marine boatyard.

Our fourth harbor, picturesque Naskeag Harbor, primarily is a working harbor for lobster and scallop boats. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place

The noisy Ospreys are back and hunting in Great Cove and the Union River. Also known as Fish Hawks, these raptors have a unique outside claw that the bird reverses to balance big fish, using two claws in front and two in back.

Ospreys also have barbed soles to grip their slippery prey and maneuver it in flight so that the fish’s head is pointed forward for better control and aerodynamics. (Brooklin, Maine)