In the Right Place: What's in a Name?

Black-Eyed Susans are starting tobat their brown eyes at us. No Susan (nor anyone else) ever had black eyes without being punched, but apparently John Gay didn’t know that.

John was the 18th Century English poet who wrote the ballad Sweet William’s Farewell to Black-Eyed Susan. That popular tune, reportedly, inspired the name for all 30 of our native species of Black-Eyed Susans.

In the ballad, Sweet William is a seaman on a warship that is about to sail into battle; no one named a flower to honor his sweetness. (There is a flower named Sweet William [Dianthus barbatus] that some think was named after William Shakespeare.) (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Windjammer Watch V

We awakened yesterday morning to see that Actress had spent the night alone in Great Cove. She’s a 75-foot Brigantine out of Belfast, Maine, originally launched in 1937.

Actress apparently is the only Brigantine in the Maine coastal cruiser fleet. A Brigantine is a two-masted vessel carrying square-rigged sails on spars on the foremast and gaff-rigged, triangulated sails on the second mast. Brigantines were developed as more easily sailed hybrids of Brigs. A Brig also is two-masted, but both of its masts are square-rigged.

The names of these vessels are derived from “Brigand,” because Brigs were favored by pirates. In fact, Brigantines were called “Hermaphrodite Brigs” for some time, but then some fusspot apparently looked up the definition of “Hermaphrodite.”

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Dowdy

Male Wood Ducks may be the handsomest birds in the pond in spring and early fall, but, at about this time of year, they look like Marine boot camp recruits – fancy hairdos are shorn off and dress uniforms are for the future:

As we see from the bird above, the male Wood Ducks are molting into their dull “Eclipse” (aka “Basic”) plumage; they're also flightless in the process. The dowdy summer plumage probably evolved as needed camouflage during this vulnerable time. In September or October, the males again will don their full-feathered dress uniforms and helmet hairdos. When they do, they’ll be in their “Alternate Plumage,” as this male was last October:

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Opening Act

Fragrant Water Lilies are all over the quieter ponds now; they're a native wild plant. Theipure white flower petals of the Lilies open and reflect themselves in the water during sunny summer days; they demurely close their petals when the sun’s spotlight moves away in the afternoons or when it clouds over. 

Underneath their large round leaves, there’s shade for fish and aquatic invertebrates, such as dragonfly nymphs. On top, their leaves become floats for frogs to loll and birds to stand, both looking for water bugs.

The Fragrant Water Lily seeds are a favorite of ducks and other waterfowl, and their underwater stems (Rhizomes) are munched by muskrats, beaver, deer, moose, and even porcupines. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Masterpieces

You don’t have to go to a big city to see good abstract art, if you strain your imagination to the breaking point. Here we have a local masterpiece that we like to imagine was influenced by Mondrian’s geometric elements and interplay of black and white with primary colors.

Mondrian thought that “art should be above reality.” We think it’s fair to infer that the Maine artist who created this masterpiece also sees that reality is a trap. And, this one is a Moveable Feat:

(Brooklin, Maine)

July 4th in Brooklin

Participants and attendees at yesterday’s annual Independence Day celebration here were hot,  hungry, and happy.  While the parade was forming, the astonishingly good Brooklin Town Band performed in the shade of the tall maples in front of the Library.  When an old dance tune was played, people of a certain age showed everyone a thing or two.

The parade wound its way up Reach Road and down Naskeag Road to the Town Green.  Old Glory and local veterans led the way and there was a wave of spontaneous clapping by the crowd as the flag went by. 

Of course there were plenty of firetrucks from Brooklin and surrounding towns, showing our tax dollars at work and pleasing kids and kids-at-heart. Here are just three of the many:

As usual, there were clever and unique homemade floats, including "Lobstahzilla."

Vintage cars and trucks are popular up here; maybe the winters encourage a lot of garage time. Here are a just a few that motored by:

You don't need a permit to participate in the Brooklin parade. Some people just march along, wanting to parade in front of neighbors; many  glide by in rigged-out bicycles.

By the time that the celebratory parade ends, a new one begins on the Town Green. Gossiping neighbors and friends move slowly in a long line that ends at gobs of barbecued chicken and hot dogs, roasted corn, potato salad, coleslaw, watermelon, and water or soft drink .

Meanwhile, the youngsters test their skills at the Wet Sponge Throw, Dead Chicken Toss, and other games.

As we walk to our cars parked along Naskeag Road afterwards, we can't help but notice the waving American Flags on each telephone pole: needed reminders of the importance of liberty and all that it took to shape this country into something special.

(Brooklin, Maine)

For larger versions of the above images, as well as additional images of the July 4th celebration, 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 on the right 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/Independence-Day-in-Brooklin/

In the Right Place: Pride

Francis Scott Key looked up on the morning after the English bombarded Fort McHenry, saw the American flag still flying, and thought, “’Tis the star-spangled banner – O long may it wave.” She’s still waving more than two centuries later in the images below, taken on prior Independence Days.

Above, a historic version of the flag is waving on the Pride of Baltimore, which actually was sailing by that Maryland Fort where the National Anthem was inspired. Below, she’s waving on a Pride of Brooklin classic truck, actually driving down Naskeag Road, where a wonderful Town celebration was inspired:

Happy 4th! (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Twisting

It’s a foggy, humid morning for glum thoughts, which puts us in mind of the now-blooming Vetch. Here we have two of these non-native plants, both of which are called Vetch, although they’re not in the same family. This one, which looks a little like what kings and queens sometimes wear, is Crown Vetch:

This one, which is eaten by cows, is Cow Vetch:

Their last name apparently is based on the Latin verb to twist or entwine (“vincere”), because that’s what they do to themselves and other plants. They’re certainly pretty, but if they get into your garden, we suspect that you’ll kvetch. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Bigger Is Better

We’re told that this Common Yellowthroat warbler should never be confused with the much different Yellow-Throated Warbler.

Why these birds have such similar names is a mystery. (Would the canine-naming priesthood decide that one species was a Common Poodle and an entirely different one a Poodle Dog?) Perhaps it has to do with real estate values. The Common Yellowthroat is the only warbler that nests low in reedy marshes, while the Yellow-Throated Warbler nests high in leafy trees.

There’s also this: the female Common Yellowthroat, shown below, is plain (but cute), while the high-nesting female Yellow-Throated Warbler is just as spiffy as her hubby.

But, of course, the female Common Yellowthroat needs more camouflage while she broods alone among cattail roots. She’s not oblivious to spiffiness, though: research shows that female Common Yellowthroats choose their mates in large part based on the size of the males’ masks – bigger is better in those marshes. (Brooklin, Maine)

June Postcards From Maine

June is the beginning of Summer, which is not only a season up here, it’s a state of mind. Just walking on one of our secluded country roads can seem to be a sanity saver.

The temperature and precipitation here in June were slightly above average. This was good for stream life. Our large, tidal streams along the coast seemed to host a larger than usual June migration of alewives (herrings) from the sea. The fish have to run a gauntlet of herring gulls, common loons, and harbor seals.

The small streams in the woods suffered no such indignities and appeared happy to contain enough sweet water to quench the thirst of the deer and other animals that spend much of their day in the woods.

The leaves of the deciduous trees among the spruces and balsam firs in the woods come into Summer fullness in June, acting like fluttering curtains that allow light to come and go in illuminating dapples.

The marsh ponds become polka-dotted with water lily pads and flowers in June. The surrounding arrow arum grows large and lush and the area becomes a home for many creatures, including red-winged blackbirds, dragon flies, muskrats and painted turtles.

Lady’s Slipper and Jack in the Pulpit plants appear in the nearby bog during June.

During the first three weeks of the month, wild lupines poke their beautiful pointy heads up in the fields and along the roadways here; then, they waste away into scragginess before the month is over, leaving us with only a colorful memory.

Wild grasses and small flowers eventually take over our fields in June, including hawkweed, buttercups, butter and eggs, and wild iris.

The fields attract millions of tiny insects, including skipper butterflies that love buttercups. The fields also provide hidden nesting areas for birds, including wild turkeys and bobolinks.

This June, a particularly large black bear started coming through our north field to eat from our bird feeder. We haven’t seen him since we scared him away with shouts and, more important, removed our feeder for the summer.

June also is when many of our lobster fishermen return their boats to the sea, at first stacked to capacity with traps that must be set in the water attached to a uniquely-colored buoy (and maybe with some herring as bait).

Of course, fishing vessels are not our only man-made sea creatures. Memorial Day and June are when the coastal schooners start bringing their tourist passengers to visit our beautiful Great Cove and good neighbor, the famous WoodenBoat School.

For water lovers who don’t like crowds, there are other options.

There was a lot more to June, but the month had to end, and so do we. We leave you to watch this sunset of June 23:

In the Right Place: Here's to Your Health!

Male American Goldfinches have finished molting into their screaming yellow summer suits and sharp black caps and soon will be selected by the more prudently-dressed females of their species.

Evolution has dictated that the brighter the male’s yellow, the healthier and more robust he is. And, the female Goldfinches instinctively know that – male color brightness is a major criterion for them when they choose a mate, according to researchers. Here's a female:

As for the new black caps, they’re used to scare off other males – studies show that the blacker and longer the cap feathers are when raised in anger, the more dominant the bird.

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Freezers

Very small Painted Turtles are appearing in our ponds and all of them are survivors of a near-death experience.

Painted Turtle eggs hatch in the fall, but the nickel-sized hatchlings usually remain underground in the shallow nest their mother made for them in the summer. When the ground freezes, so do they – their hearts and other organs cease to function, they get no oxygen, they’re virtually dead, and some do die if the nest temperature goes below 25 (F). Painted Turtles reportedly are the “highest” (most developed) vertebrates able to survive in a frozen state. In the spring or early summer, the young turtles dig themselves out and seek a watery home.

An older Painted Turtle basking on the same rock is shown above for comparison. These adults usually hibernate during the winter in the muck at the bottom of ponds, where they’re not likely to freeze.  In the summer, however, they soak up as much sun as possible:

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Migrations

Now that the warbler migration is mostly over, we’re beginning to see the usual hordes of Migrating Water Paddlers. Their favorite environments of MWPs range from the clear, still waters of Great Cove to the raging, white waters of Blue Hill Falls:

(This image from a prior year)

MWPs come in greatly varying forms and colors and, unlike most migrants, they're not averse to roosting atop vehicles:

In fact, they'll roost almost anywhere:

Many of the WWPs here are exquisite, handmade creatures:

(This image from a prior year.)

The MWP species name reportedly is a transliteration of the Inuit Eskimo word for a low, sleek boat propelled by a double-bladed paddle – a “Gayag” We prefer to spell the word with Ks rather than Gs at each end. (Brooklin, Maine) For more images, click here:

In the Right Place: Curse

This is a time that is hard on photographers of a certain age who creak when they stoop and ache when they try to move fast on their knees alone – it’s Small-Butterfly-Season. This ¾-inch neighbor on a buttercup is one of our many Skippers, a family of butterflies that look like a cross between Jiminy Cricket and a paper airplane.

They quickly skip from place to place, hence their name and our curse. Another problem with Skippers is that there are more than 3,500 species of them and, we’re informed, many can’t be told apart unless they’re dissected and their genitals are studied closely. No thanks.

Our best guess is that this is a Least Skipper (Ancyloxypha numitor) that is either male or female. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Finally!

Yesterday morning at Great Cove was a bit uncomfortable, a need-your-jacket/hood-would-be-good event with the sun winning some rounds and losing others.  However, it was a fabulous  morning because the wind was good and it was the first day of sailing classes at the WoodenBoat School here. 

Great Cove comes alive when the little WBS 12 ½ - footers show what wind, wood, and sail are meant to do. This week’s class, Elements of Sailing for Women, was making that happen under the direction of instructors Jane Ahifeld, Robin Lincoln, and Greg Bauer.

Coming in and grabbing the mooring buoy without falling in the Cove is an important and often difficult lesson for Day One.

Judging by this morning, these students will look like old salts by Saturday. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Return Trip

The Alewives are now trying desperately to get home. They’re re-running the same deadly gauntlet that they faced when they arrived from the open Atlantic in spring. Here, we see Herring Gulls ambushing the Alewives in the pools at the mouth of Patten Stream.

They come to Maine then, guided by their sense of smell, and migrate up freshwater rivers and streams to ponds and lakes, where they spawn. In June, most of them try to make the dangerous return trip. They’re a form of herring that just about everything eats and/or uses. Humans eat them and use them for lobster and fish bait.

Just a few yards into Patten Bay, the harbor seals lurk. 

After that come the hungry striped bass, loons, ospreys, eagles, and more. (Surry, Maine)

In the Right Place: Wearing of the Green

Sometimes, the often-described “black and white” Common Loon shows its Irish sympathies. This happens when the feathers on its neck (and sometimes its head) refract the light into a mostly-green iridescence, a trait usually not shown in guide books. As we shall see, the light on a Loon's head and neck often refracts into subtle purples, blues, and a green that is even more pronounced than the Loon's ascot here:

Sometimes, the iridescence is low-key, but a good contrast to the dark red that the Loon's eyes turn in summer:

We spent some fascinating time Friday watching this handsome guy fish for Alewives as they migrated through Patten Bay on the way to swim up Patten Stream. Loons actually snorkel in good spots:

Here's a better view of his cravat in its green-appearing phase:

Here's an example of iridesence showing subtle redish and greenish tones, stylistic compliments to its black and white patterned suit:

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Sky Dance

Yesterday’s sunset was unusually beautiful for June, even a bit startling  It mostly became a rippling red veil of stratus cloud through which the blue sky tantalizingly revealed itself here and there. This was taken then at about

– a rippling red stratus cloud veil through which the blue sky tantalizingly revealed itself here and there.

This was taken then at about 8:20 p.m. on Naskeag Point looking west-northwest up Eggemoggin Reach. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Windjammer Watch IV

The Heritage sailed into Great Cove Wednesday afternoon on her five-day “Summer Solstice Cruise.” She left yesterday morning, the beginning of the Solstice. She moored just off the WoodenBoat School pier and made us realize that the beautiful scene had been incomplete until she appeared.

She looked abandoned yesterday  after most of her passengers rowed themselves ashore to explore the WBS campus and before they returned to the coaster for departure. But it was a good opportunity to study her lines.

Then, the Heritage raised sails with her 1921 on-deck hoisting engine. (In the old days, this type of engine was called a “H’ister” [hoister] , because it hoisted heavy sails and anchors; or a “One-Lunger,” because it had only one-cylinder, or a “Donkey Engine” because it brayed loudly. Schooners without a hoisting engine were known as “Hand-Pullers.”)

The wind virtually disappeared ("fushed out," as some here say) when the Heritage was ready to go -- and she has no internal motor. Not to worry: this 145-foot coasting schooner has a powerful yawl boat that pushes her in such situations, as the yawl boats of the commercial cargo coasters did in the late 1800s and early 1900s.

Nonetheless, the Heritage is advertised as "the newest" of the Down East coast schooners. She was launched in 1983 in Rockland, Maine, where she was built and still hails from. Below, we see her departing Great Cove yesterday to continue her Summer Solstice cruise under bright sun.

All of her cruises are not under sunny skies, of course. We’ll leave you with one of our favorite images of the Heritage slipping into the Cove through a fog mull last summer:

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Wolf in Flowered Clothing

Lupines are re peaking here. The colorful swathes of purple, pink, blue, and white that we see waiving in fields and along roadsides are Common Lupines (Lupinus polyphyllus).

How they got introduced here remains a mystery, unless you believe the children’s tale about Miss Rumphius sowing Lupine seeds everywhere.

The native wild variety (Lupinus perennis L.) apparently has been extirpated or is extremely rare here. There also are engineered hybrid Lupines for the garden, including blood red ones: 

The name of these plants is pronounced “LOU-pin” and it derives from the Latin word for wolf (lupus): the species can be invasive and detrimental to soil. Nonetheless, they’re a beautiful sight from the road or close-up:

(Brooklin, Maine)