In the Right Place: Seeing Red

Northern Cardinals are always a pleasure to see, especially in winter when most of the red-coated things that we see are people and trucks. These birds are called Cardinals because the male’s plumage is the color of the characteristic vestment of Catholic Cardinals, as you can see below.

The feathered male Cardinal, however, is not very priest-like when it comes to defending his territory from other males – he’ll even hurt himself by viciously attacking his own reflection for hours. There is a sweet side: unlike many bird species in which only males sing, male and female Cardinals sing to each other. Here's a female Northern Cardinal:

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Games Photographers Play

We like to imagine scenes such as this as being the ending of a movie in which life is about to take a predictable turn. Will there be happiness, sadness, or sameness? Ah, that depends on our own mood when we play Rural Rorschach.

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: High-Flyers

Here, the Cirrostratus Clouds are sweeping swiftly through last night’s sunset afterglow, somewhere between 20 and 40 thousand feet above Great Cove and Eggemoggin Reach.

The Latin scientific name for these clouds is straight-forward: “cirrus” meaning “wisp-like” and “stratus” meaning “layered.” The appearance of these high-flyers often signals an incoming warm front, which hasn’t arrived as we speak; it’s now 14 degrees (F) and sunny. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Barreling

The Mallards that decided to spend their winter with us seem to know that our duck hunting season is, for all practical purposes, over. (Licensed falconers, of which there are few here, still may hunt ducks with their birds of prey.) The ducks are coming back into ponds and closer to shore, and not always paying enough attention to their runways during our present thaw-freeze-snow-thaw cycles.

The Mallards come barreling in, sometimes with a splash (see the image above) and sometimes with a comical fluttering skid past their mate (see the image below).

Mallards’ legs are set back farther than those of many belly flopping birds, which gives them a tipsiness when erect on ice, as well as that distinctive Mallard waddle when on land. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Hod Work

You never know what you’ll find on the shore when the snow starts to melt. Here’s a classic clam hod that could use a little work.

Professional clammers who dig with short-handled rakes often lean with one hand on the hod handle while the other digs up their prey, which are then chucked into the hod basket; the four-point bending position can lessen back strain during the hard work. The slats in the basket allow the clams to be rinsed off by dipping the hod into the sea or by spraying. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Investments

The woods and fields have been getting the kind of soakings that are good investments toward a bountiful spring and the streams are running cold, clear, and wild. Here's Patten Stream in Surry emptying into Patten Bay last week:

We’ve been fortunate precipitation-wise this winter – so far. We’ve gotten nice day-long snows followed by good thaws, not week-long snows that produce dirty 14-foot piles in plowed parking lots. Here's a closer look at Patten Stream’s churning waters:

(Brooklin, Maine) Way-to-go, Pats! (Phew!!)

In the Right Place: The Snowbird

The Dark-Eyed Junco (Junco hyemalis) is a confusing bird. Most birders consider it a sparrow, but some think it’s a finch. No one knows what its name means in English, Latin, or any other language except Spanish, in which “junco” is a rush plant.

Many casual observers call it “The Snowbird,” based on its legendary sudden appearance with the first snow or – in some older yarns – causing that snow. Our theory is that the bird is not easy to see where there are no bird feeders and no snow-covered ground.

They’re small, neutrally-colored, and mostly feed on the ground in the absence of feeders. When the snow comes, their hopping and flitting become obvious. (Brooklin, Maine) Go Pats!

In the Right Place: Mystery Mesh

This is small part of a familiar sight around here, which many from away will not recognize.

Yes, it's a scallop dredge and its twine net that were being repaired yesterday at the Town Dock. The dredge is an ingenious contraption that allows scraping the bottom and harvesting scallops and other mollusks there, with escape routes for fish and openings for removing the scallops by fishermen (including women). Here's most of it:

The equipment’s exotic terminology includes an apron, skirt, clubstick, shoes, rock chains, sweep chain, ring bag, and chaffing gear. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Out of Africa

Yesterday was a splendid gift throughout: blue dawn on fields of fluffy, fresh snow; shining, crispy morning and afternoon of azure skies and slow-moving clouds; orange setting sun captured in a tangled net of bare branches, and sharp, clear night in which Polaris brightly points the way. Yesterday’s sunset, shown here, was especially transporting.

It even could be African with a little imagination – think of the pure snow as sand, the twisting trees as Acacias, and the sweaty heat from wearing three layers of clothes while stalking a fawn through calf-high snow. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Yesterday's Storm

Yesterday's snow storm was the fluffy fat flake kind that dares you to come out and play. 

We did come back for lunch and a warm-up.

But, mostly, we roamed around on foot and in the car.

At Naskeag Harbor and along Back Road:

The Brooklin Cemetery with its Camperdown Elm:

The Brooklin Inn and Town Office:

"The Red House" on Back Road:

The General Store and Library:

On Naskeag and Back Roads:

As dawn breaks today, one of Jerry Gray's crew comes to plow us out; soon, the sun finds our North Field and Great Cove:

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Freezing

Here, the Queen of our White-Tailed Deer neighbors emerges into yesterday’s late sun from one of her favorite woods trails. She freezes when she notices a strange shape hunkered down behind a rock.

Her yearling fawn, which follows her everywhere, also freezes. 

We get off another "shot" of the Queen as she steps forward for a better look. Then, they wheel about, flash danger with their white flags, and disappear into the woods.

The number of deer that visit us during the day varies from two to about 10 animals at a time, all of which usually are does and fawns. (This month, we’ve seen only one buck, travelling alone.) When the Queen is visiting, the other deer appear to rely on her to give the get-the-hell-out-of-here bleat. White-Tails don’t range much: they usually stay in a territory of less than one square mile and have repetitive patterns. We’ve gotten to recognize individuals and anticipate some of their movements. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Targets

We’re seeing a few tough Mourning Doves that decided not to migrate south. These birds are the most abundant game birds in North America. They’re hunted in 42 states, but not in most of New England, where only Rhode Island has a Mourning Dove season.

These birds are not easy targets: they can reach flight speeds of 55 miles per hour. Reported annual hunting harvests range from 20 to 70 million birds. Yet, the birds’ conservation status is of “Least Concern.” They eat primarily seeds and grains, with an occasional snail for an appetizer. Their cooing was once thought (incorrectly) to be a rain predictor, so they’re called “Rain Doves” in some areas.

Mourning Doves are one of the few birds capable of “sonation”: making a unique sound with a body part other than their voice – they can use their wings to make a whistling notice when taking off and landing. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Meaning

Last week’s January thaw has melted the snow where the sun reaches, but the current cold snap has strengthened and increased the ice on field ponds. The word “pond” is a variant of the archaic word for a confining enclosure: “pound.”

Some states differentiate ponds from lakes by specified size limitations. Not Maine; we have “ponds” that are bigger than some “lakes” in other states. However, one unofficial definition of a field pond here is a body of water in which sunlight can penetrate to the bottom throughout. Many ponds here – including the one shown above – are man-made, mostly to enclose fish and attract other wildlife. Some ponds are simply the result of water runoff that creates a marsh, such as this one:

Ponds also may be used to water livestock and as secondary sources for fire equipment, there usually being no fire hydrant handy. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Thawing

This is late yesterday morning on the Naskeag Point sandbar, just as the January thaw is getting a little nasty. The snow is virtually gone, thanks to early morning temperatures that peaked at 55 degrees (F); but, the mercury is now plummeting, beginning a journey to 13 degrees for yesterday’s low. The wind here is gusting up to 32 miles per hour and the drizzle almost stings.

A neighbor and her staunch terrier appear to find all this exhilarating. We certainly do. Maybe you have to be a little different to winter here. (Brooklin, Maine) Way to go, Pats!

In the Right Place: Ode to a Maineian Urn

We’ve decided that the grace of ancient-looking urns is best appreciated in Maine snow, not Mediterranean sun -- especially when the urns are designed and hand-made here.

Above is an image of one of many magnificent winter-proof (concrete and steel) garden urns by Phid Lawless, Dan Farrenkoph, and their crew at world-renowned Lunaform LLC, up the road a piece in Sullivan.

Here's another urn that is spending its winter vacation here:

Finally, here's a winterized Lunaform bird bath:

(Brooklin, Maine) Go Pats!

In the Right Place: Weeping

There’s a mystery in the Brooklin Cemetery. A semi-rare Camperdown Elm is the centerpiece there. Its branches writhe over the grave of Brooklin’s Rodney S. Blake, a crew member who drowned when the paddlewheel steamer Portland sunk in 1898 and all aboard perished. Here's an image of the tree taken last week:

This human-engineered weeping elm, which appears to be over 100 years old, had to be put in the Cemetery deliberately – Camperdowns can’t be grown from seed; they’re “cultivars” created by grafting. But, no record of any planting or grafting of this tree has been found. Materials in the well-regarded Brooklin Keeping Society show that research into the tree’s origins was unsuccessful; Blake's granddaughter is quoted there as saying that no family lore about the tree exists.

During the summer, the Camperdown weeps lush leaves over the leaning gravestones:

While the history of our tree is not clear, the history of the Camperdown Elm species is. About 1837, David Taylor, the chief forester on the Earl of Camperdown’s estate in Dundee, Scotland, discovered a young mutant Wych Elm in the forest. The tree had an interesting weeping and contorted shape and was replanted as a feature on the Earl’s house grounds, where it is today. Taylor grafted a cutting of that “sport” tree to a trunk of a normal Wych Elm, producing a weeping cultivar now known as a Camperdown Elm (Ulmus glaba ‘Camperdownii’).

All subsequent Camperdowns are part of a line of cuttings that started with that original tree. The trees were very popular in the late 19th and early 20th Centuries. They are perhaps at their most dramatic during snow storms, such as this one in Brooklin:

Curiously, the Brooklin Cemetery's Camperdown seems to be ignored by most tourists. Perhaps this is because visitors from away mostly come to see the nearby gravestones of Brooklin’s most famous couple, author E.B. White (Charlotte's Web, etc.) and his wife, New Yorker Magazine Fiction Editor and author (Onward and Upward in the Garden) Katherine Sergeant White.

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Jail Bird

Barred Owls are slightly easier to see during cold winter days because they often emerge from the shadows to soak up sun. Identifying a Barred Owl is easy. They’re the only common owl in Maine with dark eyes. (Barn Owls have dark eyes and occasionally visit southern Maine.)

All other northeastern owls have bright yellow eyes, including the Great Horned and Short-Eared Owls, both captives, shown below.

Barred Owls get their name from the vertical, jail-like bars on their chests, which are quite different from the horizontal spots on the otherwise similar Spotted Owls of the west. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Tiny Dancer

Ever since November, we’ve been worrying about an undersized, late-born fawn surviving the cold spells and snow storms of the winter here. We saw her and her Mother a few days after Christmas, when she had to do a lot of jumping and springing – balletic at times – to keep up with her mother in the snow. Our primary concern was her ability to outrun coyotes in these conditions. She disappeared then.

So, it was with relief and joy that we spotted her, her mother, and six other White-Tails on Monday (January 8). The image of her above was taken then. She seems spunky; her odds of making it increase each day. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Group Therapy

This is pickup truck country, as shown by this good looking group of trucks congregated at Naskeag Point last week.

We want to use a fancy collective name to describe these trucks, but we can’t think of one. After all, if they were a group of starlings, we could say: “There’s a Murmuration of Starlings!” What’s a memorable collective to describe this group of vehicles? “A Swagger of Trucks?” “A Pride of Pickups?” “A Bumpering of Trucks?” Suggestions welcome. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Your Brooklin Weather Report

Here we have yesterday’s sunset afterglow just before night took control – almost other-worldly. The day’s light is lingering noticeably longer now; this image was taken about 4:20 yesterday afternoon, when it would have been dark prior to the winter solstice.  

And, today, the grip of the seemingly interminable and bitter cold spell seems to have been loosened; it was 20 degrees (Fahrenheit) at 9 a.m. this morning. We had light snow last night, which is supposed to resume later today. All is well. (Brooklin, Maine)