JOURNAL
A few days ago, this rogue fog bank entered part of Great Cove and, for a few minutes, swallowed the color-giving sunlight there. Then, the fog drifted off to maraud elsewhere and the sunlight came out of hiding. The lonely outboard skiff, the only WoodenBoat School vessel moored in the Cove now, ignored the rude treatment.
Meanwhile, the rest of the School’s fleet is being prepared to return to the Cove soon to keep the skiff company:
(Brooklin, Maine)
This Chipmunk lives in our rock wall. These little squirrels eat seed, fruit, nuts, insects, worms, birds and their eggs, and even fungi. Their name apparently is an English transliteration of “jidmoonh,” the Ottawa Tribe’s word for “red squirrel.”
The single most frequent activity of the Chipmunk here is to eat his food on our deck and restore the primal instincts to Bianca, our house-arrested cat four feet away. When he’s not there, Bianca eagerly looks for him through the screened door. See first Comment image.
(Brooklin, Maine)
Weeding is not a high priority around here. Many of us are comfortable with grass that is festooned with bright Dandelions. Besides, Dandelions are interesting. Their name, based on the French “dent” (tooth), means lion’s tooth, referring to the plant’s coarse leaves.
The entire plant is edible and there are some who say the flowers make a decent wine. More important, Dandelion flowers are virtually the first flowers to bloom in our often-cold early spring; they are lifesavers for emerging bees and other needy pollinators.
The tough Dandelion plants also come equipped with smart technology: they close their flowers at night and during rain to protect their pollen, a process known as nyctinasty. Here, they're staring to close:
The flower heads mature into "blowballs" containing single-seeded fruits attached to detachable hairs that become kite tails when the wind comes by at lifts a seed into the sky.
The flower heads mature into spherical seed heads called blowballs[7] or clocks (in both British and American English)[8][9][10][11] containing many single-seeded fruits called achenes. Each achene is attached to a pappus of fine hairs, which enable wind-aided dispersal over long distances.
(Brooklin, Maine)
Tree Swallows are now iridescent blue streaks strafing our fields:
They do stop to bicker with each other over summer residences:
They also reject their given name by perching on colorful man-made objects, including kayak racks, traffic signs, and fence posts:
These swallows consume enormous numbers of microscopic midges, mosquitoes, and other tiny insects, but – unusually – they also eat berries. Consistent with their lifestyle, they have hyper hygiene habits: they bathe by quickly skimming a pond with their bodies, then swooping up at high speed to get a blow-dry. (Brooklin, Maine)
Star Magnolias (Magnolia stellata) stood up to the bullying of our Winter, perhaps because they’re originally from high elevations in Japan. They’re deciduous with graceful undulating flowers, such as this one, that burst upon the early Spring scene before their leaves appear.
As their leaves start appearing – now – the rays of the stars drop to the ground and create a little shag carpet under the plant. The native American Magnolias are either deciduous (e.g., Big Leaf Magnolia, Magnolia macrophylla) or evergreen (e.g., Southern Magnolia, Magnolia grandiflora).
To complete the international story, the genus Magnolia, which contains hundreds of species, was named after the 17th Century French Botanist Pierre Magnol, who was one of the pioneers of plant classification. (Brooklin, Maine)
The Bobolinks are back, thank goodness; it’s always a relief to see them again. Their species has been decreasing drastically, apparently due in significant part to the disappearance of suitable spring fields for nest-building. Here, we see the male with his bleached hairdo:
The sparrow-like female is not at all conspicuous -- which is what you'f expect of evolution for a ground-nesting bird. Here she is:
The species received its name from the sound of its bubbling song. In 1855, William Cullen Bryant wrote a popular children’s poem that formalized the bird’s name to help youngsters remember its song: “Robert of Lincoln, is telling his name/Bob-o’-link, bob-o’-link/Spink, spank, spink….” (Brooklin, Maine)
The first vessel to return to moor in Great Cove for the summer did so earlier this week. As usual, it was Lucille, shown below. She’s a small fishing vessel used for environmental monitoring and research by the Shaw Institute. (Susan Shaw, the Institute’s founder, is a neighbor on the Cove; the Institute formerly was named the Marine and Environmental Research Institute.)
A few days after Lucille moored, WoodenBoat School’s Babson II was tied to a working mooring to assist with getting the other WBS boats and gear into the Cove. She’s an outboard skiff workhorse used for many purposes, including ferrying students to WBS sailboats for classes. Here's Babson II:
(Brooklin, Maine)
You won’t see this bird on your feeder; in fact, you probably won’t see much of it in the woods, where it lives.
This is the aptly-named Hermit Thrush, a plain-looking bird that would prefer to be heard rather than seen. And, now is the time to hear it. These birds, male and female, are singing to each other as the woods leaf-out and breeding season approaches.
Hearing the Hermit Thrush’s song while walking through deep woods is among the best of the delicate thrills that musically-sensitive humans can experience. It’s like hearing a flute glissando imitating a gurgling brook, with watery harmonics that echo – but better. (Brooklin, Maine)
There’s a lot of hard Spring work that goes into the Summer recreational glories and commercial fishing successes of Maine’s coastal waters. Early yesterday, as we see here, the moorings for WoodenBoat School’s and visiting boats were being launched into Great Cove.
The floating white Mooring Buoy and its gear were dropped seconds before the above image was taken; that buoy is attached by chain below to a very heavy Mushroom Anchor gripping the Cove’s floor.
Below, one of the launching crew is tossing out the Pennant line and its smaller orange Pickup Buoy; this line is attached to the top of the Mooring Buoy. As a boat comes by, an occupant can grab the Pickup Buoy by hand or hook and tie the boat up to the Pennant.
(Brooklin, Maine)
If you’re watching Alewives swim upstream and you get a feeling that you, yourself, are being watched, don’t look around first; look up. There may be a rowdy-looking poacher without a fishing license hidden in the trees.
This young adult Bald Eagle, quickly glimpsed yesterday, is still growing into his white hood and dark body.
(Penobscot, Maine)
Maine’s beautiful rock-bound shores and pocket beaches are most evident at low tide on islands, such as nearby Deer Isle here.
In this image, we see a good amount of granite ledge bedrock that has been swept clean over the years by the winds, surf, and constant tidal action. The 10- to 12-foot high tides cover the dark rockweed and algae about every six hours. (Brooklin, Maine)
We simply don’t understand why some visitors keep saying that Brooklin makes them feel as if they’ve entered a time warp.
Everything significant around here seems to us to be up-to-date – for example, take a look here at the price of gas at the General Store a couple of days ago! That price is about as up-to-date as you can get. (Brooklin, Maine)
We got lucky and, for a few seconds, had a clear view of this Northern Parula Warbler. She was migrating and feeding in lower branches that had not leafed-out.
Soon, she and her kind will reside at the top of the tree canopy. And, that’s when they become indistinguishable from dappling sunlight and effectively disappear. They’re only an inch longer than a credit card with a mostly blue-gray and white body that is camouflaged with a yellow daub on the breast and yellow-green daub on the back.
James Audubon named them Blue Yellow-Backed Warblers, but later name-givers thought they looked like titmice (genus Parus) and named them Parulas (“little titmice”). The Northern species lives mostly in the United States and the yellower Tropical Parulas live mostly in Central and South America. (Brooklin, Maine)
Yesterday's Spring Concert of the Bagaduce Chorale was an afternoon of extraordinarily beautiful and complex music performed extraordinarily well. Under the baton of energetic Chorale Music Director Bronwyn Kortge, the singers, Piano Accompanist Christina Spurling, and the GEM Orchestra filled Blue Hill's First Congregational Church with music "Fit for a King" -- the concert's theme.
The concert opened with Johann Michael Haydn's Te Deum in C, an ancient hymn with complex harmonies. The remainder of the first half was a rousing performance of Beethoven's Fantasia in C Minor (Choral Fantasy) by Ms. Spurling accompanied by the Chorale and Orchestra. Here we see Ms. Spurling's reaction to a standing ovation:
The second half was taken up with intricate English Coronation anthems by George Frederic Handle and ended, as usual, with Peter Lutkin's Benediction. As the concert came to a close, as if on cue, the honeyed afternoon light made a stained glass spring bouquet glow.
Here we see the beginning of a standing ovation for Ms. Kortge and all performers:
(Blue Hill, Maine)
Early Friday afternoon, the steady wind speed was 14 miles per hour with gusts of up to 24. That's when John McMillan of Blue Hill arrived here at one of his favorite spots. He asked that the exact location not be identified because what he was about to do was dangerous and it gets increasingly dangerous as more people (especially novices) do it in the same area. John is an expert Kiteboarder.
After pumping up the frames of his huge kite and harnessing himself to its long lines, John takes off, ripping through the water on his short board.
Much of his maneuvering is on the edge of his board:
But, every now and then, John gets the urge to fly:
(Brooklin, Maine)
This is yesterday’s sun setting behind the Pumpkin Island Lighthouse. (Thanks for the idea go to Werner Gansz, a fine photographer.)
Here's a daylight image of the three-acre island, taken last year:
The lighthouse became operational in 1854, signaling the rocky entrance to Eggemoggin Reach, northwest of Little Deer Isle. The island-studded Reach, known as one of the world’s best sailing channels, runs between Penobscot Bay and the Atlantic Ocean, with Blue Hill Bay in between. The Lighthouse was discontinued as such in 1933 and Pumpkin Island is now privately owned. (Little Deer Isle, Maine)
What we have here may remind some of Jackson Pollock’s ground-breaking images that (sometimes) were beautiful forms without inside or outside lines or positive and negative space. Well, this is ground-breaking, but literally so – it’s heather that survived an extended burial in snow here.
This tough beauty has for years been the symbol for independence and good fortune and sprigs of its flowers often were royal good luck charms bestowed by Queen Victoria on her favorite subjects. Its name apparently originated from the Scottish word haeddre, a descriptor of the wild, windy heathland where heather defies the elements with colorful cheer. (Brooklin, Maine)
A pair of Ospreys has nested nearby among the high spruce surrounding Great Cove. Their piercing calls to each other as they soar on the hunt often echo over the water and nearby fields.
These wild-eyed “fish hawks” dive at up to 50 miles per hour, splash into (and disappear under) water, and emerge with a squirming fish. This is where it gets unique:
Ospreys have a reversible outer talon that can be swiveled into a flying fish trap – two talons in front and two in back; they also have soles padded with a Velcro®-like surface to help keep the slimy prey in place; and, as they fly off to the nest or perch, they manipulate the fish so that its head is facing forward, making it more aerodynamic.
(Brooklin, Maine
One of the surest signs of Spring here is the reappearance of the elusive Spotted Mooring Amphibians, a cold-blooded species common on the coast.
They lie dormant in snow during the winter, emerge sinuously coiled in May, and then mostly disappear into the deep water – except for their colorful tail tips, which are designed to attract and grab other water denizens. The SMAs in this image were discovered basking at the WoodenBoat School near Great Cove a few days ago. (Brooklin, Maine)
Here we see the first Painted Turtle to resurrect itself from the muddy tombs at the bottom of our pond. He appeared yesterday. If history is prologue, he’ll soon be joined by three or four male and female summer painters to form a “bale” of basking turtles.
They’re gentle and discrete creatures: the male asks the important question by stroking the female’s face with his front claw; if she agrees, they’ll disappear into the depths of the pond and mate.
Soon thereafter, she’ll climb up into our North Field, make her nest, lay her eggs, and return to the pond while they incubate. If the raccoons, skunks, coyotes, and crows don’t find the eggs, some of the hatchlings may come back to our pond; others will look elsewhere for a summer place with a water view. (Brooklin, Maine)
