JOURNAL
This security system has worked well for decades on an important local boat house.
And, yes, we not only leave the keys in the car when we shop in the General Store, we leave the car running outside when we go into the Post Office to check our box. (Brooklin, Maine)
The woods are alive with the sound of … grunting. We seem to have more than our usual share of Red-Breasted Nuthatches that have decided to stay here this winter. They complain about everything, including each other.
Their favorite “song” sounds like a series of guttural notes made by a kazoo: “Aank-Ennk, Aank-Ennk.” Red-Breasted Nuthatches and White-Breasted Nuthatches (which we also have) get their first names from their color and their last names from their habit of “hatching” nuts into tree crevices so that they can jack-hammer the tough food open with their bills.
A group of these grumpy birds is called a “Jar of Nuthatches.” Why? No one seems to know. Maybe it’s because their sounds are so jarring. (Brooklin, Maine)
We’re having a remarkably mild October, which has enabled our wild Honey Bees to continue performing their Summer jobs. Here, in yesterday afternoon’s sun and shadow, worker bees busily mine Yellow Hawkweed for pollen and nectar.
When Winter temperatures finally come, these workers will stay at home and become self-generating space heaters. Initially, when the Queen is not laying eggs, the workers will cluster around her and do a “shiver” that keeps the hive at about 80 degrees Fahrenheit; when she starts laying, they will cluster closer and set the heat to above 90 degrees.
These bees consume prodigious amounts of their stored honey to generate the energy needed for hive heating. (Brooklin, Maine)
Long-abandoned apple trees overhang Great Cove and some of their fruit drop onto the beach.
When a significant high tide visits, some of those apples accept the irresistible invitation to take a short sail in the Cove’s clear, rippling waters. The result often is an incongruous, but strangely lovely, image.
When the tide recedes, the apples often come to rest in a nest of seaweed, another intriguing image.
Apples never stop posing. (Brooklin, Maine)
Most of the woods here on the Naskeag Peninsula are a mixture of coniferous and deciduous trees. In September, the tree canopy is fairly well knitted together, the mossy trails below it often are in glowing shadow, and the treading usually is soft and silent enough to stalk deer and other animals (if the wind is right).
Now, hundreds of thousands of multi-colored leaves are spiraling down and turning crisp on the trails due to lack of rain; increasingly, light is pouring through the canopy in new streams, and the walking is too loud to stalk anything – crunch, crunch, crunch. It’s still beautiful, but we need rain. (Brooklin, Maine)
Many lobster fishermen (a male and female term here) are starting to pull their traps and call it a season. This image is of Brooklin’s Christopher-Devin II yesterday, after her owners brought some of their traps ashore at Naskeag Harbor.
The traps were transferred to the owners' truck trailer on the Harbor Pier, where other lobster fishermen had done the same.The closing-down process will continue for many local fishermen into November, although some of the hardier souls will fish for lobsters or scallops through the year.
The official data are not in yet, but it appears that the 2017 lobster landings will be significantly less than those of 2016. This is not surprising, since last year was a record year and 2017 has had bait price issues and quirky weather. (Brooklin, Maine)
Many adult Herring Gulls, such as this one, stay here on the coast during the winter or move farther out to sea if the ice is extensive.
They once were a fast-increasing species and considered to be the “typical” seagull. However, the population of Herring Gulls has been decreasing for several decades, a fact that has become a concern even though the species is not endangered yet.
Despite living in rough conditions, individual Herring Gulls still live about 30 years on average.
(Brooklin, Maine)
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)
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)
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)
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)
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)
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)
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)
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)
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)
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)
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)
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)
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)
