In the Right Place: Steadfast

Yesterday, Punxsutawney Phil predicted a long winter. We don’t have our own Town Rodent to confirm this for Brooklin, but we don’t need one: we always have a long winter. Whether that’s bad depends on your attitude. For example, it snowed a pretty snow here most of Thursday and yesterday morning, then turned beautifully sunny yesterday afternoon and today.

Yesterday morning, while annoying for some, was beautiful for others: Mostly fine snow arrived in rippling white veils; toward noon, the sun tried to break the snow’s will with piercing beams of soft light that silverized the landscape. As the snow valiantly fought a losing battle with the sun, the tide came home strong and very high. The image above is of the steadfast Town Dock during all that. Below, we see several feet of water submerging the nearby beach and rocks as it snowed.

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Creepiness

If you see a piece of bark tumbling from a tree trunk and then defying gravity just before it hits the ground, you’ve probably found a Brown Creeper. This is an all-season bird here that’s about five inches of good camouflage. It’s difficult to spot and best observed at an angle, as shown below.

The Brown Creeper is a cruelly-named little bird that doesn’t creep. It quickly spirals up a furrowed tree trunk by hopping spritely with both long-nailed feet together. It uses its curved bill to pry insects and larvae out of crevices.

When it gets near the tree’s top, it flutters to the base of another (or the same) tree and repeats its spiraling, barberpole search. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Weapon of Choice

It was sunny yesterday and we spotted a Bull Moose heading north near Naskeag Road. Shot it:

As we speak, our first February snowfall is happening:

(Brooklin, Maine)

January Postcards From Maine

Historically, January is our coldest, snowiest month and the one in which the sunsets and their afterglows are the most dramatic. This January was among the best that we’ve had and, thus, a good beginning toward fulfilling neighbor Judith Fuller’s colorful roadside banner wish for us, to the left.

January had three very good snowstorms and some of the best sunsets that we’ve seen. One of the snowstorms was of the fat-flake, slow-falling variety that was especially beautiful during the storm and after the snow carpeted our area.

The sunsets and their afterglows were spectacular contrasts at times, especially in the context of periodic thaws that melted the snow, followed by more snow.

Did we mention that January’s sunsets and afterglows were spectacular, especially when followed by sparkling mornings?

Did we mention that January’s sunset afterglows were spectacular, especially when cirrostratus clouds streaked furiously 30 thousand of feet above us, auguring wind-whipped snow and rain to come?

Conditions got a bit difficult for wildlife at times, especially the smaller, late-born fawns. But this January was not especially harsh.

January also is prime scallop fishing time around here, whether by hand-harvesting “divers scallops” after diving off drop-down stern platforms or dredging for them with nets.

January also is the time when the Amaryllis flowers on the inside window ledge explode while the snow outside provides a perfect background.

Finally, this January contained a second ("blue") full moon that also was a super moon and a "blood" (eclipsed) moon. Here's everything but the eclipse, which we couldn't see:

For larger versions of the above images, as well as many additional images of special moments in this January, 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/2018-in-Maine/January/i-JhvPPHV

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: It's All Good

Until today, we’ve been in a relative thaw during which virtually all of our snow disappeared.

This scene of two days ago, showing a staring contest between the Brooklin fishing vessel Long Set and the shuttered summer home on Harbor Island, is typical of last week; but, it would not be a popular “Maine Winter” postcard.

As we speak today, however, there’s a serious snow shower transforming our world back into a proper white winter one. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Thinking Big

It’s hard to imagine the volume of water in the 10- to-13-foot tides that we regularly have in Naskeag Harbor, but here’s a way to try: Find the dark high tide band on the granite ledge in this image and cover that band and everything below it with a piece of paper (preferably green or blue), which represents water.

Theoretically, you have just replicated the Harbor’s high tide and drowned this photographer and the innocent sea glass hunter on the sand bar. Your next exercise is to use this image to try to imagine the volume in the world’s biggest tides, up the coast in Canada’s Bay of Fundy, where they’re about four times higher than ours – beyond 53 feet (16.3 meters). (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Getting It

We like to imagine Andrew Wyeth smiling knowingly at the basic, almost austere, beauty of Back Road on a winter day when everything is eye-wincingly sharp and there’s a bite to the air.

(Brooklin, Maine)

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)