In the Right Place: Petal Power

August is a good time to cut flowers and arrange them for decoration of the house. This is not an original thought. The Egyptians reportedly were arranging cut flowers in vases for decorating and transforming living spaces as early as 2,500 BC. The Greeks and Romans also used flowers for such purposes, but they apparently created wreaths and garlands out of them most of the time, rather than display them in vases. The ancient and current  idea seems to be that transforming living spaces with the fragile beauty of flowers – bringing part of the outside in -- can transform living, itself.

Above, we see two of Barbara’s current house arrangements. From the fields, there are Black-Eyed Susans, Queen Anne’s Lace, and Tansy; mixed in from the garden, there are Bee Balm, Echinacea, Heliopsis, Hydrangea, Liatris,  Ox-Eye Daisy, and Yarrow. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Strangers

Here you see an uncommon sight that looks like a mushroom or other fungus, but it is not. It’s commonly known as a Ghost Plant (or Ghost Pipe), Indian Pipe, or Corpse Plant and its scientific binomial is Monotropa uniflora. It’s uncommon because it often only appears in darker areas of the woods after a dry period has had its first rainfalls, although this image was taken yesterday in a sunlit area of the woods..

It is white-gray because it contains no chlorophyll, unlike most plants. Thus, it can’t obtain energy from the sun, so it indirectly steals energy from trees. That is, it is a parasitical host to fungi that symbiotically get energy from trees. Because it doesn’t need sunlight, it often appears in darker areas of the woods.

Special thanks to excellent photographer Werner Gantz for pointing this plant out. (Brooklin Maine) Click on image to enlarge it.

In the Right Place: Giving Bows

Here you see Martha being sailed in Great Cove by her owner, Rich Hilsinger, on August 1. That is, you’re looking at two legends.

All we need to say about Rich now is that he has been the able Director of the WoodenBoat School here since 1990 and has had an otherwise memorable life.

Martha’s story is esoteric. She’s a 20-foot Crocker Pocket Cruiser, a type of vessel described below. She was designed and built in 1960 by famed naval architect Joel White and apparently is named after his daughter. To understand the rest, we have to begin at the end.

She’s a “Cruiser,” which is a boat that sails on trips of multiple days, not a “daysailer.” Among other things, cruisers usually have at least one berth to sleep in, a stove to cook on, and a head (toilet) to sit on.

Martha also is a “Pocket Cruiser.” That is, she has all of the above attributes, but she’s miniaturized: less than 30 feet in length with necessarily well-designed space. (Think of pocket knives, pocket watches, and pocket battleships.)

Finally, she’s a “Crocker Pocket Cruiser.” That is, she apparently was inspired by the designs of naval architect Samuel Sturgis Crocker, who specialized in small and stout cutters. Take another look at Martha’s bow and then give her and Rich a bow. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the RIght Place: Signs of Fall

Our Viburnums are fun to watch. In the spring and early summer, they produce a profusion of of white flowers in double rows (double files):.

Leighton Archive Image

Now, the cores of those flowers are turning to red berries, as you can see in this image taken yesterday:

The berries will mature in the fall into beautiful fall and winter bird food; the green leaves will turn the color of magenta mixed with dark red wine before they meet their destiny. It’s a good way to go:

Leighton Archive Image

There are somewhere between 150 and 175 species in the Viburnum genus, according to what we’ve read. Our plants are Mariesii Viburnums, named after19th Century English Botanist Charles Maries who is knopwn for his plant collecting in Asia. (For the scientifically oriented: our plants apparently are the tomentosum form of Viburnum plicatum.) They do well in Down East Maine. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Osprey Nest Report 11

Big news this week: Here you see Ricky starting to helicopter off and above the nest yesterday; he loved it so much that he practiced most of the morning in a brisk southwesterly breeze.

He sometimes achieved a height of about 25 feet above the nest. His mother, Harriet, seemed unimpressed, but his siblings, David and Lucy, paid close attention.

It wasn’t always smooth going, especially his landings into a nest filled with his scurrying family.

 In fact, it got so bad – his big wings flapping to take off and his sharp talons coming down – that Harriet left the nest for long periods. She returned once with some sod for a little home decorating.

Below you see David and Lucy with Harriet on the right. (Note the bronze-colored eyes on the youngsters and the yellow eyes of their mother — one of the ways to tell juveniles from adults when the youngsters get as big as their parents.)

Ozzie, his father, flew by once and apparently decided that he wasn’t going to try to land in the nest while it was an emergency landing zone. The family did not get excited when they saw him, probably because it wasn’t lunch time yet.

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Bombing

A female Belted Kingfisher has been fishing alone in our corner of Great Cove and divebombs anyone who comes close. She also curses loudly.  We had one last year with a similar temperament in the same area.  

Leighton Archive Image

The sloped banks of the Cove contain some good nesting areas for Kingfishers, which lodge and give birth in earthen tunnels.

Leighton Archive Image

Pairs of these birds reportedly are monogamous in the summer, but we have not seen a male there this year or last. In Maine, Kingfishers reportedly breed only once a year in April or May, compared to twice in some lower latitudes. Their young (if any) should be independent now.

Leighton Archive Image

Females have relatively thin rusty belts across their breasts, with white feathers beneath; males have a large “vest” of rusty feathers on their breasts without any white feathers beneath. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Seeing Spots

We saw this flying jewel at a local pond on Sunday, August 2. He belongs to a somewhat confusing species, which is known officially as 12-Spotted Skimmer Dragonflies (Libellula pulchella).

We can see that he is a mature male because he has 10 pale blue spots: two on each wing and two at the bases of his hind wings. But males, females and juveniles of his species all have 12 dark spots: three on each of their four wings.Thus, all of the species has 12 spots and only its adult males have 10 additional blue spots. Here’s a mature female:

Leighton Archive Image

From the reports that we’ve read, there seems to be a bit of a debate as to whether these 12-Spots are among the migrating dragonflies or whether they are residents that lay fertilized eggs for the following year before they die in the cold of autumn. It appears that most experts think that they (or some of them) migrate, but we haven’t found any definitive confirmation. Perhaps you know of some. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: ERR Revisited

This is Great Cove at dawn on Saturday, August 1, and these are some of the boats that over-nighted there. They soon will be going to the starting line of the annual Eggemoggin Reach Regatta or getting ready to watch the racers go by and come back in the afternoon. The 15-mile Regatta ends here at the Cove.

This race was over the same route it usually has traveled since its beginning in 1985. The racers started at Torrey Island and sailed south in the Reach outside Babson Island that protects the Cove. Here, you see them on their way south in the Reach; that’s the two-masted schooner LaDona way out there in the haze:

They turn about near Halibut Rocks and sail north to finish at the Cove in low tide, where they receive a congratulatory horn blast and cheers. The weather was mostly clear, but large clouds sometimes darkened the Reach.

There reportedly were about 100 racers that finished this year after hours of shifting and dying winds. They can come in any color, but must be sailboats made of wood and be at least 24 feet in overall length. Here’s a sampling of some as they came near and crossed the finish line:

The next morning, there was fog in the Cove and many of the visiting boats waited it out, singly or rafted with friends with whom they’ve partied.

We caught a glimpse of this schooner leaving that morning (yesterday) , but couldn’t identify her. We could use some help on that:

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Going Crazy

It takes more than a plague to cancel the annual Eggemoggin Reach Regatta for wooden sailboats. It finished in light wind and at low tide in Great Cove yesterday afternoon. The same 15-mile route has been used since the beginning of the race in 1985.

Nonetheless, this plague did prevent the usual ERR partying on the WoodenBoat Campus after the race. Only once in its history was the race cancelled, and that was due to pea soup fog – but, the party was held then, when only good cheer was contagious.

The images here are of the boats approaching the finish line at one pf the entrances to Great Cove. We may do a special on this Regatta, if and when we cull and edit our more than 200 images of the race. (It’s easy for a photographer to go crazy when he sees this beautiful sight.)

(Brooklin, Maine)

July Postcards From Maine

July here was alternatively sunny, wet, chilly, and foggy — sometimes on the same day. Nonetheless, the month often was beautiful no matter what the weather. That wasn’t unusual. What was unusual about this July was that it was plague-infested., which meant that many who wanted to be in our fair state at the height of summer were prevented from coming. And, the enjoyment of those who have the good fortune to live here was limited in strange ways.

Yet, there was much to enjoy in July, the month of picturesque fast change here. In these latitudes, July is a time to feel and see both high summer as well as the end of that season and the beginning of autumn. For example, here are two views of Acadia National Perk across Blue Hill Bay at about the same time of day. The first was taken on a clear July 6, the second on a hazy July 31:

There are other ways to look at July’s changing beauty. For example, here’s the mouth of Patten Stream in Surry, Maine, with and without exploring tourists. (Yes, tourists came here in July, but not as many as in the past.)

Many Maine towns that traditionally celebrate the Fourth of July in a big way had to abandon the celebration or think out of the box this year. The resourceful Brooklin Volunteer Fire Department sponsored a “No Contact” parade of emergency vehicles and classic cars and trucks for socially-distant Town residents to wave at on that foggy and rainy Independence Day:

Speaking of fog, July fog can be some of the densest and most acrobatic, due to the seemingly random temperature shifts in the month.

While it may be fun to watch fog, it’s no fun to fish for lobster during it. Or during a pandemic. Or during a trade war with China, one of the biggest lobster customers. Or when the the market is questionable due to these factors. It seemed that, because of those reasons and others, many fishermen (male and female) hesitated this year and waited until July to get their traps in and to sell their catches at the lobster hut in Naskeag Harbor.

While we had fewer human tourists, we seemed to have our usual number of feathered ones. We have been spending some time monitoring the return of Ozzie and Harriet, our neighboring summer resident osprey pair, and their three youngsters, born in June. We’ve named the nestlings, in order of birth, David, Ricky, and Lucy. These youngsters also are part of the fast-change-phenomenon of July. Here, you see them on July 9 and July 28:

Below, Harriet takes an occasional break and then comes back, helicoptering down to the nest. Ozzie drops takeout orders of fish into the nest. Lucy tries to continue to shelter under her mother’s wing, even though she has become too big for such pampering. And, Ozzie takes off from his spruce-top watch tower to chase away a foreign osprey that invaded his family’s air space.

Bee balm blooms in the middle of July and the little (3-4”) female ruby-throated humming birds that nest in the area appear in the garden to sip the flowers’ abundant nectar. (Females don’t have ruby throats.)

Milkweed flowers also bloom in July and the monarch butterflies return to sip the nectar and lay eggs on the plants’ leaves. The eggs become caterpillars that eat the leaves on which they were born; they’ll become our first home-grown generation of monarchs in August.

Clear-winged hummingbird moths and eastern swallowtail butterflies are among the many insects that also invade the milkweed flowers:

Queen Anne’s lace, July’s signature wildflower, is everywhere by the end of the month. Native fragrant waterlilies arise in July and bunchberry plants shed their flowers and offer their red berries. Black-eyed Susans, wild daisies, day lilies, tansy, and the first goldenrod also appear.

Among the many July garden flower favorites here are roses, lavender, heliopsis, peony, echinacea, and clematis:

We end with an image, taken in July, of the wonderfully complicated, but Maine-like, entrance to a local home. It seems to say. “Welcome, come on in!”

(All images here were taken in Down East Maine in July of 2020.)

In the Right Place: Baleful

It’s summer and the basking is easy. It has been warm here lately, but our ponds have remained reasonably full and our Painted Turtles don’t seem to mind the humidity. This young PT seemed disdainful of us and the bee (or fly?) on his back yesterday:

There are indications that turtles need to bask in the sun’s rays to help regulate their temperature, obtain vitamin D, and to kill their parasites.

© Richard Leighton Archive

Nonetheless, they also have a seemingly counterproductive summer habit: they often pile on top of each other while basking.

© Richard Leighton Archive

The main scientific theories about this piling behavior seem to be that it is a form of competition for the best spot, a turtle social trait, and/or a defensive strategy (more eyes and ears). Such a grouping. is called a “bale of turtles.” This, reportedly, is because a collection of these compacted and plated reptiles is thought by some to look like a bale of bound things. To us, one turtle may look like it’s carrying a bale, but a group of them usually looks like a bale of bales that has come undone.

© Richard Leighton Archive

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Osprey Report No. 10

Ozzie and Harriet continued to be near-perfect parents and their youngsters continued to grow very quickly since last week’s report. Below, you see (left to right) Harriet, Lucy, and David. (Ricky was at the bottom of the nest doing what he does best – sleeping.)

Shortly thereafter, all three siblings were up and jabbering, while Mom turned her back on them. From front to back, David, Lucy, and Ricky:

Nonetheless, there is a problem in Eden: the nest that we once thought was so large, now appears a bit too small for the full family to be comfortable, especially while the youngsters walk off their energy and flap their wings. Ozzie still delivers fish there, but he often can’t find a comfortable space and flies back to a nearby spruce top.

Ozzie is a courageous (and handsome) guardian. He comes to scream and attack whenever Harriet gives her danger call (usually when another osprey is near and always when humans and dogs are). He also acts on his own and threatens anything that gets too near:

All three youngsters now have learned to rip apart and eat the fish that Ozzie slaps down into the nest. But, Harriet is still feeding them choice pieces with delicate movements involving sharp beaks on the delivering and receiving ends. Harriet often has to turn her head perpendicular to the sky and place the scrap into the nestling’s open mouth.

Harriet still opens her wings for the nestlings to snuggle and hide under and to shade them from the sun. But, the youngsters don’t fit under her now, even though they try – most of their bodies stick out like an ostrich with its head in the sand:

From time to time, Harriet will fly off the nest for a break, leaving it unattended. Once, on a hot day this week, when she was gone a long time, Ozzie appeared at the nest and opened his wings as a partial sunshade for the sleeping nestlings.

When Harriet returned, Ozzie flew off and she opened her wings. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Whiz Kids

We were at one of our favorite field ponds yesterday. Here’s one of its calming sights. Are your eyes good enough to see the cute insect at rest? (It’s about a one-inch young male Common Blue Damselfly [Enallagma cyathigerum], we think.)

One of the non-calming experiences there is trying to get lucky at “shooting” Dragonflies and Damselflies as they whiz by. Here’s an image of what we think is a young (only two-inch) whizzing male Common Green Darner Dragonfly (Anax junius):

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Rarity

This coastal schooner spent Sunday night in Great Cove; you see her here leaving early yesterday morning being pushed by her motorized yawlboat lashed to the stern.

She’s a rare sight this year. Maine’s Covid 19 guidelines were eased recently to allow vessels to offer chartered cruises starting in July. The number of passengers has been limited among other behavior safety guides.

There are only two schooners in our area now offering over-night cruises, according to the Ellsworth American, and this is one of them. She’s the Stephen Taber and she’s on a five-night cruise that costs $1,128 per person, according to the ship’s website. (That’s a bargain for the ship’s renowned food, lodging, and get-away-from-it-all cruises along our beautiful coast.)

The Taber is a 110-foot windjammer that was launched in 1871 and still does not have an engine (except for that powerful yawlboat). When there’s a good wind and she’s flying everything she has, however, the Taber is breath-taking:

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Frenzied

Yesterday’s ITRP focused on the Ruby-Throated Hummingbirds in our Bee Balm. Today, we’ll focus on the Bee Balm, itself, based on some quick research.

The common name of the plant is a misnomer; the plant is not a balm that calms the many pollinaters it attracts; it frenzies them – especially bees of all sorts, hummingbird moths, and hummingbirds. Here, you see what appear to be two American Bumblebees (Bombus pennsylvanicus) approaching the plant yesterday:

Here, a Clear-Winged Hummingbird Moth (Hemaris thysbe) buries its face in one of the plant spikes yesterday:

The scientific binomial for the plant is Monarda didyma, the first part (its mint plant genus) is named after the 16th Century Spanish botanist Nicolás Monardes. The second part is derived from the Greek words for twin temples or temples of the twins (usually referring to the god Apollo and goddess Artemis). Many of the flowering heads of the plant do seem to be divided in two:

The plant leaves were used by Native Americans for medicinal purposes and its flowers were steeped by them as tea. When English tea was boycotted by Colonists, many Bostonians switched to this Native American tea, which they called Oswego Tea.

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Balmy

Our Bee Balm (Monarda didyma) is flowering, which means that female Ruby-Throated Hummingbirds and other pollinaters are in feeding frenzy mode here. We took these images yesterday.

Female Ruby-Throats (Archilochus colubris), which don’t have ruby throats, reportedly are the only full-time summer resident hummers in Maine. The chauvinistic males of their species are the ones with the red throats; they mate here in the spring and apparently most keep moving on to Canada to hang out with the boys and avoid nesting chores.

Ruby-Throats are less than four inches long. But, they can fly horizontally up to 25 miles per hour and dive up to 40. Their wingbeats average 53 per second and, when in passing gear, the beats can reach 200 a second – at which point the ones in our garden become iridescent green blurs to the unaided eye. See also the image in the first Comment space.

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Trapped Art

July has been a good month for abstract art here, especially mobile masterpieces of the lobstering kind.

Neat stacks of colorful lobster traps and gear are going out to fish late this year due to the confusing health and market situations.

With a little selective focusing, they can be viewed as utilitarian works of art and unintended decoration.

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Soaked

Double-Crested Cormorants seem to be enjoying the summer here with fewer boats to disturb their fishing and sunbathing. Many despise these birds due to their fondness for defecating on manmade objects and their competition with fishermen.

Nonetheless, they are perhaps our most skilled fishing bird. They can dive deeply, stay down long, use their crackling blue eyes to pierce the murkiness, and pump their powerful legs simultaneously to obtain significant underwater propulsion.

However, Cormorants (Phalacrocorax auritus) are not good fliers compared to other feathered fishermen, especially air divers (e.g., kingfishers, ospreys, eagles). And, they seem to take forever to take off from the water. That, according to the literature, seems to be due to the fact that the primary feathers of Cormorants are morphically adapted to absorb water and repel air bubbles when the birds dive. This reduces their buoyancy under water, which gives them a great advantage as a below-water hunter. Those soaked wings are why Cormorants spend a lot of their spare time preening and holding their wings out to get a blow-dry. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Questionable Royal Blood

Queen Anne’s Lace plants, such as this beauty, have been flowering all week and soon will look like waves of snow rolling on our fields.

These wild celery-carrot plants are native to Europe and their scientific binomial is Daucus carota, which seems to translate into “carrot family carrot.”.

There’s a debated legend involving the plants’ name and the red or purple spot that sometimes appears in the center of their flowers. Queen Anne supposedly was tatting lace and pricked her finger; one drop of her royal blood fell and spoiled the lace; however, the royal blood made it a valuable heirloom after which the plant was named.

The debate is as to which of two Queen Annes supposedly yelled “Ouch!” – Queen Anne of England, Scotland, and Ireland (1574-1619) or Queen Anne of Denmark (1665-1714). (Brooklin, Maine).

In the Right Place: Osprey Report No. 9

This week’s report finds that Ozzie and Harriet and their three nestlings (David, Ricky and Lucy) remain well. We visited them yesterday and took these images then. The nestlings seem to be growing a quarter of an inch a day and they’ve instinctively developed that osprey head-shifting move (like a bobble doll) to get focus and depth perception. Here’s Harriett and Ricky, the second-born, having a conversation about when Dad will bring lunch:

David, the first-born, has been trying his large (but not fully-feathered) wings – flapping away for minutes without getting any lift and often whacking his mother or nest mates.. Maybe, he’s grabbing the bottom of the nest to avoid lift.

Harriet occasionally leaves the nest for short flights to stretch her own wings and to check out the neighborhood:

The ospreys recognize me. When I arrive, Harriet calmly watches me set up my tripod and put out my chair, as do the nestlings, if they’re up, and Ozzie if he’s around. Then, the raptors go back to what they’ve been doing.

It’s rare, but sometimes a stranger comes by my shaded vantage point and asks what I’m doing, as one did yesterday — with a tail-wagging dog on a leash. As usual in such a situation, Harriet went bonkers. She sounded the osprey Code Red alert and flew off the nest; Ozzie appeared out of nowhere; the nestlings disappeared into the bottom of the nest, and Ozzie and Harriet circled loudly shouting “Go Away!” in osprey-speak, often giving us the evil eye.

When the stranger and his amazed dog left, Harriet returned to the nest and calmly preened; Ozzie disappeared again, and the youngsters sat up, seemingly relieved that the drill was over. Soon, Ozzie returned with lunch for Harriet and the kids, usually a fish that Ozzie has decapitated for his own lunch. Here we see Mom and the kids waiting for their take-out meal to be brought home by Dad (left to right: Harriet, Lucy in shadow, Ricky, and David, all watching Ozzie in landing mode):

Ozzie usually stays on the nest only for a few minutes, then leaves. But he seems to be always within hearing distance of Harriet’s calls, often perched atop a nearby spruce scanning the sky for intruders (especially bald eagles and other ospreys) for him to drive out of his protected airspace:

(Brooklin, Maine)