In the Right Place: Saintly

Many domestic perennial roses are starting to peak here. This is one of our climbing pink varieties:

Below, we see an amazing yellow/gold variety belonging to a neighbor:

There are hundreds of species and tens of thousands of specially cultivated varieties of roses, all in the family Rosaceae and genus Rosa. Scientific reports state that the rose originated wild in nature about 35 mullion years ago and was first cultivated about 5,000 years ago, apparently in China where cultivated roses were thought to be pink originally.

The plant’s English name (“rose”) apparently, was just a transliteration of the Latin genus name (“Rosa”) for roses. However, that genus name, in turn, may have been derived from the German “Roza,” a 13th Century saint. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Bee Bells

The bells on Red-Vein Enkianthus bushes (Enkianthus campanulatus) are calling and falling here. As you see if you look closely, they’e calling Orange-Belted (or Tricolored) Bumblebees (Bombus ternarius) for the last round of nectar. (Image taken June 14.) The bushes have been attracting insects all spring and are shedding their bells as we speak.

Enkianthus (“enn-KEY-ann-thus”) plants are native to Asia, where they were collected by famed botanist Charles Maries and brought to England in the 19th Century. This Red-Vein variety became popular among English gardeners and was exported here soon thereafter.

The beautiful springtime cascades of nodding bells vary from lemon-white to shades of red, depending the variety of Enkianthus. The most famous attribute of this plant, however, is its ember-like leaf colors in the fall:

As for our Orange-Belted Bumblebee, it’s a common species in northeastern United States and Canada. It nests in a ground colony that lasts only one season. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Values

Many lobster fishermen (of both sexes) here are still laying their traps in favorite places. Here, we see two of the many fishing vessels going about their business in Great Cove last week. This vessel, commuting through the Cove at high speed, is Lily Ann (image taken June 20);

It makes you wonder: To be sure, lobster fishing can be harder and dirtier work than many dry world occupations; however, on good Maine summer days, the lobster fishermen’s commute and work environment may make everything worth it.

This slowly circling little vessel from which the fisherman is throwing a trap into the Cove is Knotty Problem (image taken June 15):

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Dad's Day

Happy Father‘s Day to those of you who are fortunate enough to be fathers. As we fathers and Canada Geese know, good fatherhood is much easier when accompanied by good motherhood. (We might be able to learn certain aspects of offspring management from the excellence of Geese parenthood, as our archive image here shows.)

It’s therefor ironic that one of the major inspirations for this Father’s Day holiday came from a female activist who, with five siblings, was raised by a single family male parent. For our historical essay on Father’s Day, click here: http://www.5backroad.com/montly-column

In the Right Place: Gliding Around Heaven All Day

We’ve had nearly perfect weather here recently, except it’s been a bit too warm by Maine standards. But, if you have access to a sea breeze on days like these, you clearly understand Maine’s slogan: “The Way Life Should Be.” If you also have access to a good sailboat, you clearly understand what Heaven should be.

Here we see two lucky people in heaven yesterday morning. (One is below deck in these images.) They’re in Sea Hawk, gliding north in a light wind along Babson Island in Great Cove.

The boat is a 41-foot (LOA) Concordia yawl built in 1965; she hails from Brooklin or did at one time. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Chaw

Our fallow fields have been thickly daubed with yellow for weeks, but not because of one plant. First it was mostly Dandelions, then Buttercups, and now millions of Yellow Hawkweed flowers (Hieracium caespitosum), such as these:

If you look closely at the fields now, you’ll see a small percentage of the Hawkweed consists of Orange Hawkweed (Hieracium aurantiacum):

There is a debate as to whether the Yellow and Orange species should be considered the same species that just comes in two colors.

There is no debate about both versions of these Hawkweeds being part of the sunflower genus and being closely related to members of the Dandelion/Chicory family. There also is no debate about them being invasive. That’s why many farmers called them red and yellow “Devils” – they spread quickly and are virtually impossible to kill.

By the way, their usual common name – Hawkweed –derives from folklore in which hawks ate parts of the plant to improve their eyesight. That’s nonsense, of course. But, in reality, many Native Americans kept a Hawkweed chaw in their mouths and chewed it like chewing tobacco during their daily activities. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Comforting

An interesting neighbor has revisited. This is Little Bear yesterday in Great Cove.

06/17/20

She’s a replica of a North Sea fishing trawler with ketch-rigged sails for stability. Built in Scotland in 1964, she’s named after Ursa Minor (Latin for Lesser Bear), the northern sky constellation commonly called Little Bear.

Leighton Archive Image

She reportedly was built for a professor of classical arts at Cambridge University and fitted for ample comfort, not slimy fish. Her home port now is Rockport, Maine, across the Penobscot Bay from us. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Flowering Wolves

The essence of a Maine summer includes Large-Leafed Lupines (Lupinus polyphyllus), colorful members of the pea family that are now in full bloom here. The plant name, pronounced “LOU-pin,” derives from the Latin word for wolfish, in this case meaning that the plant was thought to wolf down soil nutrients at the expense of other plants.

Lupines, like a good Scotch, go well with water on the side. Here we see Lupines in a hill patch overlooking Stonington Harbor:

06/13/20

Here we see Lupines erupting in a field on Amen Ridge in Brooklin, overlooking Blue Hill Bay and Acadia National Park beyond:

06/15/20

06/12/20

These plants are not Maine natives; they reportedly were imported here from western states and even Europe. We’re told by the New England Historical Society that one of the reasons that so many of these plants are found scattered throughout Maine is because of the efforts of Hilda Edwards, “The Lupine Lady.”

Hilda reportedly scattered Lupine seeds fanatically in Maine during her extensive travels as a summer resident here. Among other ways, she apparently did so through the windows of moving cars, while striding our fields, and in walking city blocks where there were patches of greenery or dirt. A popular and award-winning children’s fictional book was based on her in which she was called Miss Rumphius, the Lupine seed scatterer. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Acrobats

Tree Swallows (Tachycineta bicolor) are now performing their airborne acrobatics at a frenzied pace to feed their nestlings – swooping low, diving high, skimming just above field grass, and even helicoptering to yell at a neighbor that comes too close to the nest. This blue-brown blur was diving at an incredible speed yesterday:

Reports indicate that they need to consume about 6,000 small insects a day just for their own high-energy needs. When they have nestlings, they catch more. Both parents come to the nest to feed their young all day long and clean the nest of droppings on the way out.

Leighton Archive

They also take baths by skimming their bodies in the water and then flying fast and high to get a self-administered blow-dry.

Leighton Archive

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Jacks Wild

We went to the usual boggy and buggy place Saturday (June 13) looking for Jack-in-the-Pulpit plants (Arisaema triphyllum). We saw just two complete plants. By “complete” we mean having a striped protective spathe (“Pulpit”), within which a flower spike spadix (“Jack”) is standing (some might say hiding). The scarcity of the “pulpits” probably is because our woods are in a semi-drought condition.

Much about this plant is strange, beginning with its name. We have a “pulpit” that virtually hides its occupant and that occupant is called by the nickname “Jack,” which does not sound to us like a religious preacher. Who was this Jack supposed to be? We did some research and found nothing on point. Perhaps Jack-in-the-Pulpit is a play on Jack-in-the-Box, where you also can’t see Jack most of the time. Does anyone know the history of this plant’s name?

But wait, there’s more: The Jack that you see (if you get on your hands and knees and look from the side) may be a Jill! This plant can change from male to female before its yearly appearance, as energy needs require. Whether the plant hides a Jack or a Jill, you better not taste it raw – it’s toxic to humans. (Brooklin)

In the Right Place: Consistent

Today is Flag Day, which is no problem for us to celebrate in Brooklin – we have the Flag of the United States all over the place, including lining our roads and on private property. This image of two of the flags lining Reach Road at sundown was taken on Friday (June 12):

Importantly, diagonally across from these two flags is the Brooklin Inn’s “Black Lives Matter” sign, taken at mid-day on the same day:

Respect for the Flag and Black Lives seems to us to be perfectly consistent.

By the way, President Woodrow Wilson officially established June 14 as national Flag Day in 1916. But, the original idea is attributed to Bernard Cigrand, a small-town Wisconsin teacher who advocated an annual national Flag Day in 1885. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Osprey Nest Report No. 5

This is the latest report in the continuing saga of “Ozzie and Harriet in Brooklin,” starring a local pair of nesting ospreys that we’ve been checking at least two times a week since they set up housekeeping in their annual summer residence on or about April 21.

Status: there has been no significant change. Both birds seem to be well. They’ve survived vicious storms and continue to fend off Brutus, the jealous single male osprey in the area. Harriet is still doing most of the incubation, while Ozzie brings her fish and sometimes takes over the incubation to give Harriet a break (often by flying to another treetop to eat her fish). Here’s Harriet incubating yesterday:

Here, we see Ozzie flying off the nest yesterday after delivering Harriet a headless fish that he decapitated for his own breakfast:

After mating, female ospreys usually lay their first egg within 10 days and generally will lay up to three eggs within several days, according to reports. These birds are long term incubators, usually taking between 37 and 43 days before the first egg hatches. Thus, we may not see any fledglings until late June or July, if everything goes well. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: A Day for Dad

This image appeared yesterday in our monthly column in the Ellsworth American.

To read the column, click here: http://www.5backroad.com/montly-column

In the Right Place: Horseplay

Our Horse Chestnut Trees (Aesculus hippocastanum) have been flaunting their flowering pyramids recently, as the images here from yesterday show.

These unusual trees are native to the Balkans. They were imported into England in 1616, primarily for landscape use in towns and on private property. Soon after, they were being exported from England to Colonial America for the same uses.

The trees apparently were given the “Chestnut” name because of their similarities to the European Sweet Chestnut Tree (Castanea sativa), but these Horse varieties are not related to that tree. The European Sweet chestnuts are edible; the horse chestnuts are not.

As for that equine part of its name, there are two major stories. Most botanists reportedly say that the tree was called a “Horse” Chestnut because the Turks fed the tree’s seeds to cure coughing horses. Some people also say that they got that name because, when the trees’ leaves fall, they leave scars on their twigs that look like horseshoes with nail holes. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: A GRReeepy Story

We’ll call this fellow Satchmo and here’s his story. On Monday (June 8), we heard extremely loud, incessant, and strange screams that sounded like a crow being tortured by a laughing pterodactyl – a drawn out series of “GRReeeps.” The odd thing was that we were in the treeless parking lot of the Home Depo gardening center in Ellsworth, Maine. We scanned the sky and saw only two speechless herring gulls soaring.

As we walked to our car, we got to a point where it seemed that we were right under or over the sound. Then, suddenly, we saw him! (Sex assumed.) There, on the side of the gray bed of a Chevy pickup truck was this bundle of gray feathers screaming his fat-beaked head off.

This fledgling looked to be about six inches long and appeared more indignant than injured. Judging from his position, he could fly at least a little and seemed to be expecting to be fed. But, the only birds visible were those gulls, which would more likely eat him than feed him. He backed off and looked like he would fly when we got within 10 feet of him (200 mm lens used).

Now, a question for our good birders: What is he? He seems a bit like an American robin, but his feather and beak colors don’t seem right. His shape and shorter tail seem to rule out his being a common grackle, although he sort of sounded like an amped-up one. Help needed. (Ellsworth, Maine)

In the Right Place: Birth of a Beauty

Here’s part of Sunday’s (June 7th’s) “birth” of the latest “child” (flower) of our prolific Hibiscus plant. After budding, the petals grow tightly together like a packed parachute. When they reach the right length, a mechanism of cell expansion and other factors makes the petals begin to twirl open, as you see here. You actually can watch the petals moving if you’re as patient as Job.

The flower at this stage gives us a tantalizing peek at her red-buttoned “stigma” (pollen catchers) atop the “stamen” (funneling stalk) containing protruding yellow-buttoned “anthers” (pollen producers).

Within hours, the flower is entirely open, as you see above. Her flamboyant colors are to attract pollinators quickly – she will close and drop within days. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Greatness

We were lucky last Wednesday (June 3) when we visited Brooklin’s Naskeag Point. Although it was foggy with intermittent rain, we got this image of three Great Black-Backed Gulls, each in a different position – it’s like a field guide illustration.

Great Black-Backs are the world’s largest gulls, attaining lengths of almost 2 ½ feet, with a black-topped wingspan of more than 5 feet. When they flash those huge wings, it can be very intimidating to the smaller gulls and other shore birds.

In fact, these birds are beach bullies. They openly steal their neighbors’ food and, as if that weren’t bad enough, they eat their neighbors’ eggs and young. Nonetheless, from what we’ve seen, eagles, ospreys, and great blue herons don’t seem to think that these black-backed bullies are so great and ignore them. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Paradox

Yesterday was another of the many days here that begin with fog coming in over a still sea. We went over to Brooklin’s Center Harbor to watch the moored boats disappear and reappear, a veiled dance by some beauties.

As you can see, from time to time, the sun would break through the fog and spill what seemed to be a stream of freshly purified light on the Harbor’s reflective waters, while the horizon remained a seemingly impenetrable gray wall.

Those short moments brought us a clarity that was so real, it was unreal – a visual paradox. (Brooklin Maine)

In the Right Place: Hearing Aids

This Caruso is a male Yellow Warbler, a bird that we hear singing now. He’s usually much easier to hear than to see and therein lies the problem in identifying him.

My best guide, the Centennial Peterson Guide, says his song sounds like “tsee-tsee-tsee-tsee-titi-wee” or “weet weet weet tsee-tsee wew.” But, my Sibley Guide says it’s “sweet sweet sweet ti ti ti to soo” or “swee swee swee ti ti ti swee.”

That’s not to mention my old National Geographic Birds Guide and the current Cornell Lab of Ornithology on-line Guide, which have the gall to tell me that he’s actually bragging in English: “sweet sweet sweet I’m so sweet.” This is news to me. What’s a mediocre birder to do? None of those descriptions sounds exactly like what I’ve been hearing.

However, once we mediocre birders get a glimpse of him and see his male chestnut streaks, we’ll probably say: “It’s a male Yellow Warbler!” Even those who just like hearing and seeing birds likely will look and say something like: “It’s an almost all-yellow little bird singing his heart out!” Archive images used. (Brooklin Maine).

In the Right Place: Women's Wear Department

Here we have the footwear part of a Pink Lady’s Slipper plant (Cypripedium acaule). It was photographed among Star Flowers Wednesday, June 3.

These native orchids, which occasionally are white, are found hiding here and there in our mixed woods in June. They’re getting even more difficult to find on land open to the public due to predation by human collectors.

Lady’s Slippers have two unusual needs. First, they have to seduce insects for pollination. The insects are enticed into an entrance slit in the flower’s sweet-smelling pouch, which closes after they enter. To escape through the only exit, the insects have to squeeze through hairs and pollinate the flower’s stigma with pollen that the insects have picked up elsewhere.

Second, these orchids depend on threads of fungus from the Rhizoctonia genus for reproduction. The fungus has to be in the nearby soil to break open and pass on food to the Lady’s Slippers’ small seeds that are scattered by the wind. (Brooklin, Maine)