In the Right Place: Legend in her Own Time

We awakened yesterday to see this sleek sailing yacht moored in Great Cove. Here’s how she looked then:

Her name is Legend and her lines make her look smaller than she is – until a familiar vessel, such as the lobster boat “Pud Lee” or a pair of kayakers come near her:

Legend is 111+ feet in overall length and has a 26+foot beam (widest point), according to the records. We couldn’t find data on the height of her masts; but, comparing them to her length indicates that the main mast is in the 200-foot+ range.

She was built in 1999 and is flying the nautical flag of the Cayman Islands. According to tracking reports, she’s been visiting Maine since September 2.

This morning, Legend pulled up anchor and headed for Eggemoggin Reach, where she hoisted all sails:

Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Native Sun

Here’s a cultivated version of one of North America’s most famous native flowers, with one of yesterday’s stiff breezes undoing her fine long-petaled hairdo.

Sunflower plants were cultivated in this continent at least as early as 3000 BC, according to researchers. This one continually faces east, having gotten too large to follow the full arc of the sun’s rays from east to west, as smaller Sunflowers do.

Native sunflower plants were cultivated for food from wild North American plants by early indigenous peoples. But, Sunflowers also were used for their medicinal, dying, and cooking oil properties. They reportedly were introduced to the rest of the world around 1500 by Spanish Conquistadors returning from North America to Europe. After that, they were subject to considerable international trade. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Hidden in Plain Sight

This image of a Common Green Darner Dragonfly 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: Historic

There are fishermen and then there are FISHERMEN in Nakeag harbor. Here, on an active Sunday (September 6), we see the lobster fishing vessel Judith Ann coming to tie up at the Town Pier on which a man is casting for striped bass.

Striped Bass (Morone saxatilis), which are called Rockfish in more southern latitudes, are found mostly on the east coast of North America. The written history of fishing for “Stripers” reportedly began with New England Colonists commenting in awe on the abundance of them and alewives in our waters.

They are now prohibited from being caught in federal waters in this country and subject to significant restrictions in state waters. In Maine, Stripers are recognized as a sport fish, but no more than one fish per day may be taken and that fish must be at least 28, but no more than 35, inches in length, among other restrictions. Some parts of Maine have special, protected seasons for Striper fishing, including “catch and release” seasons. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Osprey Nest Report 14

The summer residence where Ozzie and Harriet Osprey raised three beautiful youngsters this year usually is abandoned. However, there are at least four circumstances where we’re seeing activity there. First, one of the parents will come by (at least daily, we think) and drop a freshly-caught fish into the nest. Here, you see Harriet taking a fish there yesterday.

Second, Harriet and Ozzie’s youngsters, David and Lucy, come by alone or separately to dine on that fish. (You may remember that Ricky, the second born, disappeared right after he learned to fly.) The remaining two youngsters usually are perched nearby or learning to fish in Great Cove over which their birthplace looms. Lucy was flying near the nest yesterday when we got this image of her:

Third, one of our Herring Gulls takes possession of the nest if no Osprey is in sight. Usually it’s to eat the fish remains, but it seems that some gull trespassers may want only to be the highest gull around with the best view that webbed feet can provide. Often, a younger gull will sneak into the nest and be driven out by an older one. That happened yesterday:

Fourth, when one of the Osprey family sees a gull in the nest, they will go toward it and the gull will exit quickly. That also happened yesterday, when the mature Gull in the nest saw Harriet coming:

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Inside Out (or Not)

A few Wild Blackberries are starting to turn dark and ripen here, as you can see from this image of part of our favorite bush yesterday. And, after this image was taken, the few ripe berries on that bush had mysteriously disappeared. (Delicious!)

The ripening seems late this year. By about this time last year, about 50 percent of the berries that I saw had ripened:

Leighton Archive Image

Differentiating Wild Blackberries from Wild Raspberries can be difficult for the average person who just is taking a recreational walk. But, there’s a simple way to do so: Pluck one of the berries and turn it over so that you can see where it was connected to the vine. If the berry’s center is hollow like a thimble, it’s a Raspberry; if it is “corked” like a jug, it’s a Blackberry. Don’t worry about eating that cork. Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Deadly Weapons

Gladiolus plants apparently still are blooming here. At least these stems of their flowers were for sale Friday (September 4) at the Bay Road flower stall.

Glads (technically, their plural is “Gladioli”) have a fascinating history, a small portion of which is set forth here. Their name belies their beauty; it’s inspired by the shape of their leaves. “Gladiolus” is the Latin term for “little sword,” the type that “Gladiators” dealt the death blow with. Thus, Glads also are known as “Sword Lilies,” even though they are in the Iris family.

There reportedly are at least 260 species of Glads, 10 of which originated in Eurasia and the rest in Africa. Seven species were introduced to Europe in the 1600s, according to researchers, and the cultivation of new varieties began there. Now, there reportedly are about 10,000 varieties available and probably more on the way for this popular plant. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Familiar Differences

We’ve eased into the time of year when the weather is at its friendliest here. Yesterday was as close to perfect as any day can get anywhere. This is what you would have seen then if you were sitting next to me on my favorite hidden rock, deeply breathing in the pure, cool air and hoping for something different to cross the North Field. But, on a day like yesterday, everything becomes different, even the familiar.

The field will be cut sometime this month, when Ray McDonald can fit us into his busy schedule. Many people here keep non-agricultural fields that are mowed in late summer or fall. The annual mowing preserves the summer wildflowers, grasses and sedges that are homes and sustenance for many animals and insects. Without mowing, the field soon would return to brambles and then forest, of which we have enough elsewhere. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Wrecks

Here, we’re looking at a quiet nook during low tide in Blue Hill’s Conary Cove on Thursday (September 3). It’s raining lightly in the Cove and on us, but it’s the kind of rain that’s pleasant to walk in – a dying rain with clear air visibly coming to our rescue from the east.

The granite ledges and other rocks that surround this Cove are a haven for Knotted Wrack (Ascophyllum nodosum), which is one of our “Rockweed” species. Rockweeds are forms of seaweed that attach themselves to rocks and float up as the tide rises; they provide protection for various marine lives. Rockweeds are not true plants; they’re algae that seek external food like animals.

This seaweed and others are called “wracks” because “sea wrack” is an old name for “seaweed.” “Wrack” originally meant something cast up from the sea onto the shore. “Wrack” evolved into “wreck”; “shipwrack” became “shipwreck.” (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Water Vessels

The sunlight comes to us lower now and often creates small, natural masterpieces. Very early yesterday morning, we were immersed in the chilly morning fog. The sun was not high enough yet to beam over the tall spruces and balsam firs to our east on the ridge.

However, it did creep under and between the tall trees and begin its job of brushing away the fog. As it did so, the sun seemed to stop momentarily and admire one of our hydrangea trees, now in its peak flower time. Then, the sun moved on to clear our day.

By the way, the name “hydrangea” is derived from the Greek word for “water vessel,” due to the shape of the plant’s seeds. The plants also like plenty of water. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Turkeys in the Straw

About once a week, we get visited by members of our local tribe of wandering Wild Turkeys. Their number varies from a pair to more than a dozen. They like to chortle and graze in the wild growth of our sloping North Field. They seem to know that they are hard to see there at this time of the year, when both the field and they are a bit dingy.

On Sunday (August 30), I was hidden at the base of that hill watching a quartet of them shuffle through the field with nibbling and snapping heads down – until they heard the click of my camera, even though it was on “quiet” mode.

 As you can see above, all four heads came up immediately, necks were extended, and eyes and ears searched while bodies remained still.

In the next second, they saw me in my hiding place and flew away rather than use their usual running mode:

Turkeys reportedly can see in the day three times better than humans. (They don’t see well at night.) Turkeys also have acute hearing, even though they have bare ear holes without any surrounding structure to concentrate sound waves. Test data indicate that they hear more distant and lower frequency sounds than humans. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Dying and Flying

Dragonflies are disappearing. Some natives die here after laying eggs that will become next year’s dragonfly models and some migrate south to lay those eggs in warmer climes. Yesterday, during about two hours of watching activity at our pond, I saw only two drab dragonflies; they appeared to be Blue Dashers (Sympetrum corruptum [Hagen]).

About three weeks ago, we saw what looked like a mature male Calico Pennant (Celithemis elisa) in the field near the pond, but couldn’t get close enough to “shoot” the prized jewel. So, we offer here an archive image of one taken near there on August 7 of a prior year:

Females and immature male Calicos are quite different – mostly yellow-green and black.. (Brooklin, Maine)

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)