In the Right Place: Fall Colors

There was less color around here this October than in other recent years. The reds of the wild blueberry fields and the colors of most trees and bushes at their peak seemed to be spotty and subtle, more pastel-like.

Perhaps this was because we have had no real cold snaps yet this Fall. We’ve also had less rain to keep the leaves soft. Many leaves dried before they could turn and then they fell victim to the October winds.

Grasses and ferns held there own and added character to foggy and cloudy days.

We may have been spoiled by prior stellar Fall showings, but (as you can see) we have no reason to feel sorry for ourselves. 

We should not end without mentioning the special kind of trees that become colorful in the Fall around here: Mooring Gear Trees.

For larger versions of the above images, as well as additional images of Fall color, click on the link below. (We recommend that your initial viewing be in 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 for more:

https://leightons.smugmug.com/US-States/Maine/Out/2017-in-Maine/Fall-Colors/

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Endurance

Last year, we saw three Monarch Butterflies. This year, we’ve seen too many to count – and, they’re still here in the middle of October on our Montauk (aka “Fall”) Daisies.

This female apparently is part of the year’s final hatching of Monarchs. She probably has laid her eggs for hatching next year and certainly will not migrate south. Late-hatched Monarchs do not migrate; besides, her torn forewing would prevent a long flight. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Illumination

It’s the beginning of the Sunset Season for this latitude and yesterday’s surreal sunset was a sign that the season might be a good one. In the fall here, the sun’s rays are low and shifting to the south relative to us. More of the sky is illuminated (especially if it is cloudy) due to the low angle of the sunlight, while the length of each day gets shorter by several minutes.

The sun’s apparent southerly migration will get slower and slower in November and stop at about December 21, the winter solstice. At about that time, the process will begin to “reverse” itself.

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: The Odd Couple

 It was a cloudy day along the nearby Union River last week when we spotted one of our favorite couples doing their food shopping. Bald Eagles, and all our native hawks and owls, are “reversed-sized sexually dimorphic.” Not to worry, that just means that the females are larger than the males.

The size difference between these two lovers is the greatest that we’ve ever seen, primarily because the female is one of the largest that we’ve seen and the male is a bit on the small side.

Generally, females are about 25 percent larger than their mates, but this one appears to be 35-40 percent larger. As is often the case in Hollywood, this male protagonist may be small, but he’s handsome:

The usual size range of adult Bald Eagles is 6.6 to 14 pounds with wingspans of 6 to 7.5 feet. (Ellsworth, Maine)

In the Right Place: The Final Scene

As the nights evolve from cool to cold, the woods have become flowerless – except for the good old reliable wild Aster, which comes into its own in late Autumn. “Aster” means “star” in Greek and the flowers’ purple-blue and yellow starbursts do seem to explode throughout the dying vegetation.

These flowers are the last wild refuge for small insects trying to lengthen their lives on a day-by-day basis as it gets colder. If you’ve got good eyes, you’ll be able to find a desperate Spotted Cucumber Beetle in the image above. Below is one of the last Meadowhawk Dragonflies resting on an Aster.

The plant, actually a member of the sunflower family, also is known locally as the “frost” flower. Maine Native Americans used Asters to treat headaches and colds.  (Brooklin, Maine) 

In the Right Place: Color Her Late

This is yesterday afternoon in nearby Acadia National Park. The lowering light has found “The Bubbles,” the two small mountains that sit above Jordon Pond.

We came to the Park to watch Fall’s peak performance. She has been a no-show so far in Down East, and the question is whether we’ll have a major performance by her at all this year. The birches in the Park's Sieur de Monts area have not turned significantly yet.

The view from Cadillac Mountain is all green and blue.

To be sure, some of Fall's warm-up acts in the Park are good – a bright orange tree here, a deep purple bush there, a flaming red creeper on a red brick wall above, lichen splotches on sun-warmed granite ledges ....

However, the Fall we’ve seen in past years has not shown up, at least yet. Nonetheless, her tardiness makes us realize that we’ve been spoiled. The Park was beautiful today. As is. As it always is. We’re fortunate to be here.  (Mount Desert Island, Maine)

In the Right Place: Decisions

It appears that all of our male Wood Ducks have gotten their cycling helmets back on and otherwise have nicely survived their late summer molts.

These ducks now have to decide if and when to migrate south. Migration data from nearby Acadia National Park show that, in the past five years, many birds have been migrating significantly later.

Other reports show that some birds that traditionally migrate from or through Maine are not migrating at all. At least the birds believe that Climate Change is real. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: More Seldom Asked Questions

How do fishermen get to their fishing boats? They usually have small boats with outboard motors to do this. In larger harbors, there may be a small marina or pier float where these small boats can be tied and accessed during the season.

In smaller harbors, such as our Naskeag Harbor here, the fishermen bring their boats to the beach on truck-drawn trailers, back them into the water, and park the trailers on the beach and in nearby parking areas for the day,

Most tourist books don’t show our harbors quaintly adorned with their pickup trucks.

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Jack Is Back

This is the last known image of Jack the Ripper, who is Number One on our Most Unwanted List.

It was taken several years ago, during one of his most daring thefts. He mysteriously disappeared after that – until last week. His technique is to slip up to the house during the day, before the mobile bird feeders are taken in for the night.

He looks around to make sure he’s unseen and slowly moves under a feeder. He stands on tippy-toes to get one or two claws on it; then, he quickly pulls it straight down, using his strong front legs and his hundreds of pounds of weight. The feeder wire, cap, and internal structure are ripped out of the feeder, which Jack tips into his mouth to “drink” from.

We caught him in the act last week and banged on a window. He immediately darted 30 feet away and stopped as if he forgot something. He then spun around, darted back toward us, and stopped suddenly over the grounded feeder. Then, he picked the feeder up in his mouth and raced off. We didn’t have a camera handy and we haven’t found the expensive feeder. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Late Bloomers

As other vegetation fades, the Montauk Daisies start to peak and the Switch Grass stays verdant, keeping the garden alive for another month or so.

These daisies also are named Nippon Daisies (Nipponanthemum nipponicum) because they originated in Japan; but they’re better known in this country as Montauk Daisies because of their publicized popularity in Montauk, Long Island (New York).

The Switch Grass (Panicum virgatum) is a native American plant that has its origins in the tall plains grasses; it also is known as Tall Panic Grass due to its botanical name. These hearty plants are rabbit-proof, deer-resistant, and can withstand salty soil, stiff sea winds, and a Maine winter. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: A Ringer

October is the big month for the migration of raptors through here, including Merlins such as this one. Merlins are small, fast falcons that range in size from 9 to 13 inches and prey mostly on sparrows and other small birds.

They were once called “Pigeon Hawks” in North America. Their current name is derived from the Old Frankish word for falcon, “esmerillon,” perhaps due to their historic popularity in falconry.

During the Middle Ages in England, they were known as the Lady’s Falcon because ladies of the court sported by sending the birds “ringing” (circling upward rapidly) after skylarks.

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Dramatic Departures

Cinnamon Ferns are starting to look like frozen fireworks in the shaded woods. In the fall, these ferns turn golden before it dying dramatically.

The plant gets its name from its fertile red-brown fronds that look like sticks of cinnamon; these dark “pinnae” appear and disappear in the spring when the fern leaves are a vibrant green:

Maine’s Native Americans used the fern for treating chills and colds, among other things. The fern’s spring “fiddleheads” were eaten by them, as they still are by some of us. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Digging It

Before you complain about the prices of locally-harvested fresh clams, think about how they were harvested. In Maine, intertidal zone clamming must be done by hand to avoid environmental damage. (That zone is the area above water at low tide and below water at high tide.)

Professional and other clammers must be licensed by the township in which they harvest and are subject to State and local regulations, including daily quotas.

Then, there is the matter of the back-breaking work in boot-sucking muck, often in less-than-ideal weather. Clammers search for the mollusks with a pronged Hoe (or Rake) and/or their hands. The clams are tossed into a Hod (or Roll), which is a slightly rounded half-bushel basket made with spaced lathes or aluminum; the clams can be rinsed off in the Hod.

Around here, most of the clams seem to be soft shell (Mya arenaria), Surf/Hen (Spisula solidissima), and Razor (Ensis directus) clams.

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Transformation

A breath-taking change in Great Cove takes place in early October: the boats are brought ashore, most moorings and their mushroom anchors are pulled up, and the WoodenBoat School pier float is beached. The Cove then seems lonely – the way a house can seem lonely when the children go away.

However, we soon realize that there has been a fair exchange: the complex beauty of an active harbor (think of a smaller scale J.M.W. Turner canvas) has become the simple beauty of an ever-changing sea with ever-changing wildlife (think of a larger scale version of Henry David Thoreau’s Walden Pond).

Below is an image of the area of between the WBS pier and Babson Island, taken on September 13, along with a few other late September scenes of the Cove:

Here’s what the same area between the pier and Babson Island looked like on October 4:

In the interim, visiting vessels departed for home ports and storage; WBS vessels were ferried ashore and driven to their winter quarters; and, anchors and moorings were pulled out of the Cove, cleaned with fresh water, and hung up to dry.

To be sure, some people around here will sail well into October, but each day their number lessens, especially those who are sailing small vessels. The nearby Brooklin Boatyard small boat shed is almost full already.

We’re entering another, exciting cycle.

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: A Buzz

Last night’s winds dropped a lot of – but not nearly all -- wild apples here. (By “wild” we mean those from the many unattended apple trees.)

The fruit is a good winter food source for a wide spectrum of wildlife – bear, moose, deer, raccoons, wild turkeys, gulls, and many songbirds.

The only problem is that dropped apples can ferment and make animals drunk – we’ve seen wild turkeys wobble, fall over, and get up seemingly giggling. A few years ago, a big, apple-eating bull moose got drunk and held part of Anchorage, Alaska, at bay; the local newspaper named him “Buzzwinkle.” (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Waiting

Here we come across an apparently well-used and well-kept wooden boat that has been left untethered on Great Cove’s pebbly shore. Its master is not to be seen. We’re alone now and can admire its utilitarian grace without anyone wondering why we’re staring at a stationary boat.

She reminds us of a handsome hunting dog that is at “stay” in an uncomfortable place, eagerly awaiting her next command. By the way, there are few fine-sand beaches in this area of Maine; we mostly have large pink granite ledges; stubbly pebble-and-rock landings, and beach grass stands. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Being Blue

We’re seeing more Blue Jays here than last year. One bird expert attributes this to a local increase in acorns.

These birds do not appear blue due to their pigmentation; they’re blue to us due to the refraction of light by the structure of their feathers. That is, if you ground the feathers of a Blue Jay, you’d get a dull pile of brown, not one of sparkling blue. As to the “Jay” part of its name, some research finds that it’s a carryover from “Jai,” the Old French name for “gay” or “merry” given to some birds that the English later called “Jays.” (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: No Haunting

It’s time to buy a pumpkin and carve a Jack O’ Lantern out of it to keep away the witches and ghosts, which was the historical “reasoning” behind hanging Jack O’ Lanterns on houses and huts. It has always worked for us.

By the way, in days of yore, a “jack-o’-lantern” and “will-of-the-wisp” were the English names for any unknown light that appeared over British peat moors. (Brooklin, Maine)

Postcards From Maine: The September Collection

September is the month in which we reluctantly let go of Summer and eagerly welcome Fall. It’s the month when chilly dawns are frequent.

The fields turn in September and need to be mowed, if they weren’t cut in August.

The mixed conifer-deciduous woods show more light as some of the leaves begin to fall

Streams and coves become favorite haunts and the sunsets and evening afterglows over the waters can be dramatic.

September mornings can be foggy in Great Cove, as the schooners come and go, but the fog usually burns off.

The Red Squirrels and Chipmunks are busy collecting food, even a rare white (pigment-deficient) Chipmunk. Green Frogs still laze in mid-September, but most are in hibernation by the end of the month.

The Spring fawns are active and quite large by September.

September is when many birds prepare to migrate or actually do migrate south. Many Wood Ducks are not going anywhere for a while; they’re in various stages of molt.Some Double-Crested Cormorants have started the trip, others still patrol the Cove at full throttle.

September is the month when you see both Monarch Butterflies and the Monarch Caterpillars from which more Monarchs would come.

Of course, September is the month that gardens erupt with the beauty of late-summer flowers.

Toward the end of September, Viburnums and a number other bushes start to blush deeply in anticipation of Fall’s arrival.

For larger versions of the above images, as well as many additional images of special moments in September, click on the link below. (We recommend that your initial viewing be in 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 for more:

https://leightons.smugmug.com/US-States/Maine/Out/2017-in-Maine/September-Postcards-From-Maine/

In the Right Place: A Viking Thing

Here, in the morning fog, is a curiosity from Norway that has been in and out of Great Cove for most of the Summer. She’s Flekkerøy, 40-foot former Norwegian harbor pilot boat built in 1936 that made a dramatic first appearance in the Cove.

She came in during a storm in December of 2015 and anchored in the sheltering lee of Babson Island. Her two-person crew, Klara Emmerfors (Swedish) and Bjørnar Berg (Norwegian), had taken the “Viking Route” here:  Norway to Iceland, to Greenland, to Labrador and then through the Canadian Maritimes to Down East Maine. Apparently, a book is in the offing. (Brooklin, Maine)