In the Right Place: August Postcards From Maine

In Maine, the clouds of August are the surprise desserts for fine visual meals. Being mostly cumulus, they can be whipped gently or hard; lightly spread or dabbed on; thickly scooped or kneaded into long loaves, among other shapes. Below, we see two versions of Mount Cadillac in Acadia National Park; a field of Queen Anne’s Lace in Brooklin; a road to the shore on the WoodenBoat School Campus; Blue Hill looming over the town of the same name, and the waters off Brooklin’s Naskeag Point.

August this year was not all blue skies and fluffy clouds, however. We had a few deluges that had us watching the woods from inside the house. We also had plenty of the usual fog, mostly just in the morning, and mixtures of fog and rain.

This August was especially exciting because the three young Ospreys that we have been monitoring since their births in April fledged — and we were there! After individual test flights consisting of 10-foot airborne bounces above their nest, each took its first flight in August.

The first of the two images immediately above shows two of the Osprey fledglings with their mother, who is on the right — the youngsters have reddish-colored eyes and the adults have yellow ones.

August also is when the White-Tailed Deer fawns are big enough to come out of the woods with their mothers. Below, we see a fawn that is still wearing her camouflaging white spots.

Here’s an adult doe using her swiveling ears to try to find where that camera “click” is coming from. She has determined the right direction, but can’t find us hidden among cattails, so her sound-scooping ears are checking 360 degrees for danger. (Her daylight vision is not as good as ours. )

On a smaller scale, August is when many dragonflies begin to disappear, some even migrating south. Our favorite is the Twelve-Spotted Skimmer dragonfly, which is very active in early August:

August also is when first-generation Monarch caterpillars appear. When they get big enough, the caterpillars build a chrysalis for themselves to protect and hide their transformation into butterflies. In the image on the right immediately below, we see a Monarch butterfly that has just emerged from its chrysalis attached to the underside of a milkweed leaf; the butterfly is stretching it’s once-folded wings. It soon fluttered to the ground, rested, and then flew off.

Monarchs weren’t as numerous this year as last year, but there were good numbers of them here in August. Here’s one sipping the nectar of an echinacea flower:

On the sailing waterfront, the big August news was that the annual Eggemoggin Reach Regatta was held, despite the Covid 19 plague. However, the usual big party after the race was cancelled. Some sailboats rafted together overnight for company after the race. At least when we saw them, each crew was staying in its own boat for social distancing.

Of course, not all pleasure boats have sails. Exploring the local waters in colorful kayaks, canoes, and paddleboards was a popular activity in August. But, so was just sitting on a beach and thinking summer thoughts.

On the working waterfront, August was marred by the damage to and virtual sinking of Turn the Page. She’s a fishing vessel that struck a ledge and opened a big gouge in her bow below the water line. The Captain, although injured, managed to get the boat to the shallow waters of Naskeag Harbor. Once there, Brooklin fishermen (male and female) assisted and helped tow her ashore with a local marine boom truck. The Captain is well, thank goodness, but the injury to and loss of a boat, even if temporary, always is tragic. To many fishermen, it’s like the loss of, or serious injury to, a beloved working dog.

Meanwhile, many fishermen here are pulling up there traps due to a convergence of problems, including the plague that has devastated the lobster-serving restaurant and tourist ship businesses; a trade war with China, one of the largest markets for lobsters, and warmer waters, which motivate lobsters to migrate out to colder, deeper sea.

August is known for its many flowers, both wild and cultivated — too many to show here. We’ll just pick as representatives Black-Eyed Susans, Day Lilies, and Fragrant Water Lilies:

We finish with two views, one of August’s full moon, as seen through one of our maple trees, and the other the view of many of us residents here, as expressed alongside Brooklin’s Naskeag Road.

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

In the Right Place: From Here to Reality

Yesterday was one of those days when we catch summer beginning to think about saying yes to fall. Summer is alluring at these times, especially when trains of cumulous clouds ride fast and low over water that is being cuffed by a stiff breeze. Here, you’re looking northwest from Naskeag Point at noon yesterday. The wind is gusting over 20 miles an hour in your face and tossing tansy blooms until they sometimes are a yellow blur. You try to gulp down the clean, salt-tinged air and can’t get enough.

But wait, we have a reality check: Many of the leaves on the trees already have been ravaged by summer’s tiniest visitors. Those in the top of a speckled alder tree above us are among the many that will not be turning beautiful colors:

Oh well, there are plenty of leaves waiting patiently for fall. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Clearing the Air

What has the face of a hawk, the fuzziness of a bumblebee, the wings of a dragonfly, the tail of a lobster, the length of a cockroach, and the hovering ability of a hummingbird?

Right! It’s the Clearwing Hummingbird Moth (Hemaris thysbe), which is part of the Hawkmoth family (Sphingidae). They have been very active this month. Here we see one sipping nectar from our catnip flowers (Nepeta cataria) on August 24.

Below, we see one pollinating the last of the milkweed flowers (Asclepias) on August 12:

The clear parts of this species’ wings occur when these moths discard some of their wing scales early in life, perhaps as a camouflaging feature. However, other species of Hummingbird Moths do not have see-through wings. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: What's Wrong With This Picture?

Yes, that’s the Osprey Nest that we’ve been monitoring. No, that’s not an Osprey in it. We’re looking at a thief in action yesterday morning.

The nest has become mostly an eating and resting platform for the Osprey youngsters that were raised there. Their parents drop a fish into the nest for them from time to time and they come by to snack and maybe take a nap or just ponder Osprey mysteries.

Much of the time, the fledged youngsters are self-teaching themselves to fish and – just as important – what to do with a fish once they have caught it. (In the beginning, they sometimes kept a just-caught fish in the talons of both feet, rather than transferring it to one foot, the way their parents do.  When they tried to land on a branch or even a flat surface with a live, slippery fish in both feet, they became a slapstick comedy act.)

While the Osprey youngsters are fishing, the more aggressive of our Herring Gulls, such as this one, sneak onto the nest with an eye to the sky, grab part of any fish there, and flee. We wonder what would happen if one or more of the Osprey homeowners saw a gull in their bed.

Leighton Archive Image

Often, Ospreys will eat a fish in an open area and gulls will gather around, but keep their distance; the dining Ospreys seem to completely ignore their presence. Clearly, the raptors are the dominant species. (Brooklin, Maine). See also the image in the first Comment space.

In the Right Place: High Times

Wednesday (August 26) was what many think of as the iconic Maine summer day here. Clouds were surfing a blue sky; the temperatures were in the high 60s to low 70’s; dry and cool sea breezes were sweeping in like waves, and the incense-like scent of Autumn was rising from the browning fields. (Full Disclosure: not all summer days here are as good as Wednesday was. Don’t tell anyone.)

We like to go to Amen Ridge here on special days to record the view of Cadillac Mountain across Blue Hill Bay in Acadia National Park. As you can see from the above image, taken at about Noon Wednesday, the tide was low, the sand bars were connecting, and Cadillac was brooding about when Acadia will open fully after the plague.

Cadillac Mountain is 1,529 feet high and, being on Mount Desert Island, it is surrounded by water. It’s also the highest point on the North Atlantic Coast. Thus, the mountain often attracts fascinating weather. Compare this cloud attack on her from roughly the same view on August 18:

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Swamped

Yesterday, the Fishing Vessel Turn the Page tragically hit a rock in Eggemoggin Reach and opened a gash on her bow below the waterline. Her captain, who suffered a head injury in the incident, barely made it to lower water in Naskeag Harbor and the help of fishermen here.

Turn the Page, out of Sedgewick (Benjamin River), Maine, was beached here in low tide. However, the boat then was swamped by the incoming tide, as you can see here. The captain reportedly was taken to the hospital for observation while local resources and fishermen continued with her recovery.

With the help of local fishermen from the Fishing Vessel Blue Sky, a series of lines from the A.H. Marine Company boom truck were hooked to Turn the Page to bring her in farther – long lines to reach her and more sturdy ones as she was pulled closer to the beach and had to be dragged over the bottom.

She was pulled high enough up on the beach to where she could be trucked away. Last night or this morning, she reportedly was craned onto a large trailer and taken to a shipyard.

The loss of a vessel this way, even if not permanent, is heartbreaking for her owner, our fishing community, and those who respect what they do.

(Brooklin, Maine; thanks to expert photographer Werner Gantz for the heads-up and reporting on this event.)

In the Right Place: Dappled

Barbara pruned her roses down in June, after their first bloom. The second bloom has started to appear with robust flowers. The recent rains have helped and often dappled our roses with rain drops, one of the garden’s great visual pleasures.

The image that you see above, taken August 22, is of a small rose that has reached its most beautiful growth stage – between being a bud and being fully open. Its commercially known as the Oso Easy® Italian Ice® Rose.

The image below, taken yesterday, of an aromatic climbing rose fully open and highly fragrant. It’s commercially named after the famous English gardener and landscaper: the Gertrude Jekyll Rose®.

Despite their names, as Juliet told her boyfriend: “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Tides of Joy

Yesterday, the incoming tidal surf at Blue Hill Reversing Falls was challenged by a group of paddleboarders and kayakers. Some of the surfers won – for a while:.

Some lost – after a while::

Perhaps more interesting than these talented paddlers is the geological rarity in which they were surfing. According to some researchers, Maine is the only state that contains this type of powerful whitewater that reverses with the tides; and, we have eight such locations in our State.

Leighton Archive Image

This type of falls occurs when the bedrock forms an inclined channel of just the right width and depth between two bodies of water, at least one of which is strongly tidal. There also must be just the right height difference between the two bodies of water to produce fast surges in both the rising and falling tides. (archive images):

Apparently, during the last Ice Age, Maine’s protruding coast was under a glacier cover longer than the coasts of southerly states. The moving ice here scoured much of our coast down to its granite bedrock, deposited boulders, and had a furious meltdown via rivers and other waterways that gouged geologic anomalies seen nowhere else.

Leighton Archive Image

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Awareness

Yesterday, I was hidden behind a curtain of cattail leaves at our pond, which is at the base of our sloping North Field. I was after wood duck, but saw only one bedraggled mallard within three hours. However, just as I decided to pack up and leave, our smallest and cutest white-tailed deer fawn came dancing down the hill with his mother about 30 feet behind. (Sex assumed.)

He occasionally would rest and casually look around. She seemed annoyed that he wouldn’t stay close.

They were not aware of my presence at first; they often were in their iconic head-down nibbling position in the uncut vegetation. The fawn’s fading camouflage spots seemed still able to break up his shape a bit among the Queen Anne’s lace and emerging daisy fleabane. The doe’s coat was starting to thicken and turn winter gray.

As soon as I clicked my first “shoot,” Mom’s ears went up and she assumed her frozen alert position. By the second shot, both mother’s and son’s ears and eyes were focusing in my direction. After several quick shots and Mom’s snort, they were gone. They probably never saw me.

Deer don’t see as well as we do during the day, but they have a much wider field of vision (less of a blind spot) and they see better at night, when it’s more important. Deer hear sounds around them much better than we do, especially low frequencies. Those huge, sound-scooping, swiveling ears are very good direction-finding devices. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Troubles

Here, we’re in Naskeag Harbor yesterday afternoon, as fishing vessels come to and go from the bait hut where fishermen can buy bait and fuel going out and sell their lobster catch coming back:

These are troubled times for the fishermen, some of whom are pulling their traps out of the water and getting ready to end their season early. Here’s the Fishing Vessel Ghost pulling its traps in Great Cove on Thursday (August 20):

The Maine lobster industry has been caught in a confluence of adverse consequences. It got damaged by China’s tariff retaliation to President Trump’s trade war with that large lobster customer. (Last month, President Trump promised a bailout for the fishermen, but it has not materialized as far as we can tell.)

The Covid 19 plague has depleted restaurant and cruise ship businesses, where lobster was a popular dish. Warming Maine waters have provoked many lobsters to move out from coastal territories to colder, deeper seas. And, on the horizon, additional fishing restrictions to protect right whales likely will go into effect soon.

Fishing for a livelihood is not easy, but it is picturesque:

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Farewell Flowers

Black-Eyed Susans are at their peak here, both the cultivated ones in the gardens and the wild ones in the fields. There are at least 30 species of Black-Eyed Susans, all native to North America and part of the Rudbeckia genus in the sunflower family. The cultivated ones shown here are R. fulgida var sullivantii (first two images taken August 18, last image taken yesterday):

The wild ones shown here is Rudbeckia hirta, we believe (Images taken yesterday):

Why call a flower Black-Eyed Susan when no one has black eyes (other than the punched variety)? The origin of the flower’s name reportedly is the ballad “Sweet William’s Farewell to Black-Eyed Susan.” It was written about 1720 by English poet John Gay, who apparently was not an ophthalmologist. It’s a farewell song to Susan, who probably had dark brown eyes, as do the beautiful flowers named after her. Perhaps we should consider these flowers as her farewell to summer. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Osprey Nest Report 13

This may be our last installment in the weekly saga of Ozzie and Harriet, the ospreys that raised three youngsters here this summer. These parents have done a very good job. As you may remember, we’ve named their youngsters David, Ricky, and Lucy, in birth (and size) order for identification. All of the youngsters have fledged and Ricky has disappeared.

We haven’t seen much of Ozzie this week, but Harriet, David, and Lucy have been flying nearby and regularly returning to the nest or to nearby treetops. The image here shows David having difficulties emulating his parents’ ability to balance on the top of a high spruce near the nest.

David and Lucy are spending a lot of time flying and learning to fish. We haven’t seen either one catch a fish yet, but we’re not watching for extended periods anymore and they often fly far from the shore to fish in Eggemoggin Reach.

The youngsters frequently (but not always) return to the nest when one of their parents brings a fresh fish home. Below, we see Lucy who has just landed in the nest after her mother appeared there.

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Strange Thought Department

This fisherman’s truck and boat trailer were in a priority parking space at Naskeag Harbor on Tuesday (August 18).

These vehicles are fairly typical of those that you’ll see scattered around that Harbor and other small fishing ports around here that don’t have the facilities to tie up small boats that take fishermen (male and female) to their vessels.

Usually, the fishermen come to our Harbor in trucks or other vehicles that pull a small outboard motored boat on a trailer; the trailer is backed into the water; the boat floated off; the fishermen climb into the boat, and motor out to their fishing vessel. The process is reversed when they come ashore.

Seeing this truck “in nature” provoked a strange thought and a little unreliable research relating to painters who are famous for portraying fishermen and their environment, from Winslow Homer, to Marsden Hartley, to the present generation. I couldn’t find in their works any portrayals of vehicles used by fishermen to get to their boats and come back home after work, except maybe one painting.

That possible exception was a painting by the self-taught Mainer Philip Barter titled “West Bros. Lobster Co.” It showed many things on and near the named Company’s pier at which a fishing vessel was off-loading fish. Nearby, there was an old truck filled with old-fashioned wooden lobster traps.

Perhaps many artists consider such things as trucks distractions from the beauty of the coast or maybe they’re too hard to portray, but they certainly are not out of place in reality. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Down East Fawn Report

It seems to have been a good spring and summer for White-Tailed Deer fawns here. The ones that we’ve seen seem large and healthy, which are two of the keys to their survival in the winter. This one, seen on Monday (August 17), is a good example:

She is still traveling with her mother, but roaming at a fairly large distances.  Here’s her Mom watching her:

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Lucky Varmint

You’re looking at the business end of a varmint that no one should be this close to. However, he crossed our path in a parking lot yesterday without so much as a “pardon me” and we quickly gave way.

Yes, this is a Porcupine’s rear end, not the most beautiful thing that you’ll see today. These animals have front ends that are much more interesting and some even think they are cute:  

Leighton Archive Image

Nonetheless, we and many others feel that Porcupines are detestable.  The State of Maine hunting regulations allow them to be shot on sight without limit, anytime. They kill valuable trees, there are too many of them, and they provide no human benefit. When threatened, they attack with amazingly fast swats of their tails, which contain thousands of loosely fitted barbed quills. (They don’t “throw” quills.) The result of a Porcupine attack can be misery for a dog, cow, horse, or (rarely) human.

Leighton Archive Image

The only effective natural control of these quilled animals seems to be Fishers, which are large weasels that appear to be in short supply here these days. A Fisher (sometimes called a Fisher Cat) will circle the Porcupine until the spiny prey gets confused and/or dizzy. Then, the Fisher will leap in front of the varmint and bite it in its non-quilled face and forehead, often piercing the brain and virtually always stunning the porcupine so that its soft stomach can be attacked.

We confess that we are Porcupine haters and were aware of the Fisher’s successful face-biting technique when this Porcupine rudely brushed us aside yesterday. However, we decided that it would be inappropriate for us to use the Fisher technique in a public parking lot where children were running around. Lucky for that Porcupine. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Prize

The image here, taken last week, is of the only plum produced by our plum tree this year. There is nothing wrong with our tree. It’s a flowering plum tree, not a fruiting one.

In the spring, flowering plums produce gorgeous masses of flowers that are made even more beautiful by the trees’ purple leaves:

Leighton Archive image

Flowering plums produce few, if any, plums in the summer; they give their all in spring. But, when they do produce a plum, it often is considered to be a prize plum.

Plum trees were domesticated and cultivated into various types in China more than 2,000 years ago and eventually spread through Asia Minor and Europe with considerable help from the Romans. Our flowering version originally was a European version. It’s scientific binomial is Prunus cerasifera, but it’s usually marketed in the United States as a “Thundercloud Flowering Plum.” Here’s another image of our tree during this spring:

Leighton Archive image

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Mental Health

We have a triangular sandspit in Brooklin that is not quite a sandbar. It’s the “point” of Naskeag Point at Naskeag Harbor. The sand is gravely and almost disappears at very high tides. Yet, in summer, it’s “the beach” to some residents and the occasional visitor. There’s plenty of room there to take masks off and not worry about the plague and other people.

The view at the Point is of beautiful Maine coastal islands, interesting fishing vessels, and flotillas of colorful kayaks going out or coming in. The water temperature can be too chilly for many swimmers, but foot-dipping there while sunbathing can be a pleasing yin-yang experience.

Being at the right beach reportedly can have significantly good effects on mental health – the effects of the soothing sound of waves, the tingle of toes in the water or sand, and skin being washed by fresh, salty breezes and warming sun. These can bring “mental balance” in troubled times, according to some studies. Of course, protection from too much sun is needed, and we’re not talking about beaches that attract ant-like humans who have a swarming instinct.

We’re talking about a place where you can open yourself and let the elements in to do some brain cleaning (which we imagine to be the case in the first image) or to go the other way and get lost in deep thought as a salty breeze sweeps over you (which we imagine is happening in the second image). Both images were taken this month, but on different days. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Stalking Sky Animals

Yesterday was one of those iconic summer days here: air clear as a good spring water; heat as dry as a Phoenix bake-off, but mitigated well by gusts of Maine northwest sea breezes, and – best of all – plenty of big, find-an-animal clouds in a bright blue sky.

Those puffy clouds are cumulus clouds that often float as low as 3,000 feet or so above our fields of clouds, Queen Anne’s Lace. The clouds’ name derives from the Latin word “cumulo,” meaning “pile” or ‘heap.” When driving or walking back from the sea on the WoodenBoat School campus, the clouds make you feel as if you’re ascending:

When these clouds build big cauliflower tops, they’re called cumulus congestus for obvious reasons. If they continue to grow upward into giant darkening formations, watch out. Those are lightning and thunderstorm factories called cumulonimbus clouds, “nimbus” being Latin for “dark cloud.” (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Summer Peace

This image appeared yesterday in our monthly column in the Ellsworth American. Click on the image to enlarge it. To read the column, click here: http://www.5backroad.com/montly-column

In the Right Place: Land of the Free

Here, we see a first-generation American being born yesterday under a milkweed leaf. This Monarch Butterfly has just squeezed out of her chrysalis and felt her folded wings slowly straighten out like inflatable objects.

Now, she occasionally opens those fully formed wings and then slowly closes them to get the juices flowing. Within 15 minutes she will have the strength to instinctively try her first flight. It will be awkward; but, within an hour, she’ll be flying well. Then, she’ll be sipping her first taste of nectar while pollinating flowers, no longer a caterpillar chewing leaves while pooping.

At the same time that we’re seeing this new and pristine citizen trying to catch her breath in the shadows, we see her worn relative three feet away flitting from zinnia to zinnia in the open sunlight.  See above. This old, undocumented relative apparently migrated here without a passport and helped produce some of the first American Monarchs of the year. (Brooklin, Maine)

[Special thanks go to neighbor Sherry Streeter, whose garden and milkweed plantings are butterfly favorites.]