In the Right Place: Wake-Up Call

Here, we see the morning light reach the Coastal Schooner Stephen Taber in Great Cove yesterday. She spent the night there in the shelter of Babson Island. Some of the passengers were still eating a sumptuous breakfast, others were preparing to try the cool water before the vessel moved out.

A few passengers climbed high into the rigging and leapt into the cool water, others chose paddle-boarding. before anchor was weighed:

Unfortunately, there was virtually no wind early yesterday, so the Taber was pushed out of the Cove by her powerful yawl boat Babe without raising sail.

The 110-foot Taber was built in 1871 and is a National Historic Landmark that now hails from Rockland, Maine. As with many 19th Century cargo cruisers, she was built with a flat bottom to “ground out” and discharge her cargo without the need for a pier. She does have a centerboard to lower during cruising but has no motor.

We cannot leave without remembering how spectacular she is under full sail, so we show you an archive image of the Taber coming into the Cove “with everything up” at a prior time:

Leighton Archive Image

The Schooner J&E Riggin also overnighted and likely will be the subject of a separate post tomorrow. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Osprey Nest Report 6

As of yesterday morning, Ozzie and Harriet appeared well, perhaps even more active than usual. Harriet continues to assume an incubation position, huddled low in the nest. Every now and then, she’ll lift her head and check her surroundings:

However, she stretched her wings with short trips twice in 30 minutes yesterday. Here she is returning from one of those flights:

Ozzie remains attentive. He visited the nest briefly in the morning while Harriet was hunkered down. In the first Comment space, you can see him taking off over Harriet, who is virtually invisible; the tips of her primary feathers are visible in the image to those who have great eyes.

Harriet’s incubation period has seemed longer than usual. There has been no cooing or feeding behavior at the nest to indicate the hatching of any young. It’s possible, I suppose, that the original clutch of eggs was damaged in a severe storm that we had in May and that Harriet is incubating her second clutch. But, that’s just speculation. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Aromatic Nymphs

Many of our quiet marsh ponds here are now filling with Fragrant Water Lilies. Those shown below were caught sunbathing nearby Tuesday morning, June 8.

The white crown flowers on these native plants are like strings of solar-powered lights that turn themselves off and close when it clouds over and when the afternoon light turns dusky. The next morning, with the arrival of the early morning sun, the Water Lily flowers slowly turn themselves on by opening wide, seemingly with big yawns.

While perhaps not as exotic, the Water Lily leaves (“pads”) also are attractive and perform important local summer services.  They protect fish and aquatic invertebrates (e.g., dragonfly nymphs) in the shade below. Above, the pads collect insects while frogs and birds perch on them, waiting for their meals to be brought to the table. Here are archive images of a pair of Red-Winged Blackbirds waiting for service:

More broadly, the plants’ seeds are a favorite food for waterfowl and their stems (rhizomes) are consumed by many animals, including muskrats, beaver, deer, moose, and even porcupines.

Unsurprisingly, the genus name of our native Water Lily is, Nymphaea, which is derived from the Greek and Roman name for “water lily”; that, in turn, originated as a reference to mythological water nymphs. The species name for our plant, odorata, means “fragrant,” as you probably guessed. That sweet scent attracts pollinators. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Life in the Slow Lane

This image of one of our Painted Turtle neighbors 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: Oldie but Goodie

This is the coastal schooner Victory Chimes entering Great Cove in the heat and haze of Tuesday afternoon, June 8. She’s lowering her fore and mainsails after already having dropped her jibs.

She left her mizzen sail up for the stability of pointing into the wind while anchored overnight in the Cove.

The Chimes then departed the Cove early yesterday morning in hard-driving rain, without raising sail. Here’s an archive image of her under full sail for reference purposes:

Leighton Archive Image

The 170-foot Chimes, out of Rockland, Maine, was launched in 1900 in Delaware as the commercial cargo vessel Edwin and Maud. When she relocated to coastal Maine as a passenger ship in the 1950s, her name was changed to Victory Chimes in honor of a Canadian schooner of that name that had been launched on Armistice Day in 1918. 

The Chimes now reportedly is the largest all-sail passenger ship in the United States, which means that she’s big and has no inboard engine. She’s also the only three-masted schooner in the Maine schooner fleet, a National Historic Landmark, and the last of the flat-bottomed, shallow-water schooners known as Chesapeake Rams. (She worked the Chesapeake Bay area for many years.)

Leighton Archive Image

Curiously, credit for much of her restoration must go to pizza. Thomas Monaghan, the owner of Domino’s Pizza, bought and restored her in 1988-1989. He named her Domino Effect and used her for employee incentive cruises. She was renamed Victory Chimes in 1990 when purchased from Monaghan to return to Maine cruising. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: A Wolf in Bean Clothing

Common Lupines are starting to arrive like an invading army of beautiful troops. Pronounced LEW-pin, the wild legume derives its name from the Latin word “Lupinus,” meaning “wolfish” or “of the wolf.” That’s because Lupines (Lupinus polyphyllus) ravenously consume soil nutrients, usually to the detriment of other plants.

Lupines also are known more peacefully as Quaker Bonnet Plants, due to the shape of their flower pods. Inside those pods are beans that are edible after brining to remove toxins.

Maine’s native Lupines (Lupinus perennis L.) apparently have been extirpated or are extremely rare. The hordes that we see in our fields and along our roads were originally imported from western states and Europe. Much of the credit for their existence goes to Hilda Edwards, “The Lupine Lady,” who apparently was to these plants what Johnny Appleseed was to apples.

Hilda reportedly scattered Lupine seeds fanatically in Maine – including throwing seeds out of moving cars – during her extensive summer residencies here during the early7 20th Century. A popular and award-winning children’s fictional book called Miss Rumphius was based on her seed-sowing.

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Real Estate Values

Here, we see a male Red-Winged Blackbird smugly surveying his beautiful estate on Saturday, June 5. This year, he and his mate own a lovely corner of our pond.

He has even more reason to be proud. It looks like he’s about to become a Dad – again; probably before Father’s Day.

Leighton Archive Image

Mom is quite different from Dad. She’s much smaller and looks like a Hollywood version of a sparrow. But, she can flash her usually covered red-orange epaulets in a very beguiling way.

Mom has been sitting in the reeds unusually long lately. At this rate, these Red-Wings might even have a third brood this year. Unfortunately for me – but certainly not her family – she has placed her nest where I can’t get a straight shot at it without invading the entire family’s comfort zone. So, I have no nest shots of her and the youngsters this year.

However, I do have this image from a prior year:

Leighton Archive Image

(Brooklin, Maine).

In the Right Place: Hope

Here, we see the Coastal Schooner Lewis R. French traveling south out of Great Cove yesterday morning, a hot and still time with no sailing wind up yet.  

She spent the night in the protection of the Cove as she often has in pre-plague years. Seeing her yesterday was an injection of hope. Maybe we shall have a normal, glorious summer.

The 101-foot French was launched in 1871 out of Christmas Cove, Maine. She was built there by the French brothers and named after their father. In her youth, her life was varied and hard: Among other things, she freighted bricks, granite, fish, lime, firewood, and Christmas trees. She has no internal engine. If you look closely, you might see that she was being pushed out of the Cove yesterday by her powerful yawl boat. 

But, who needs diesel power when – most of the time – the winds in our area easily fill your sails? Heere’s an archive image of her sailing in the Cove:

Leighton Archive Image

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Royal Flush

Iris Season is beginning in gardens here. There are almost 300 species of these domestic perennials and more being “designed” as we speak.

Reportedly, the most popular of the cultivated multitude are Bearded Irises, such as the above white ghost, photographed yesterday, and Siberian Irises, such as those shown below, photographed Friday, June 4.

There also are 28 wild, native Irises in the United States, according to the U.S. Forest Service. The most common of these natives here are the Blue Flag and Yellow Flag Irises, which have not yet flowered in our fields and meadows, as far as I’ve seen. Here are archive images of each:

Iris flowers usually have three upward-thrusting “standards” (petals, really) and three downward-drooping “falls” or “sepals.” The supporting sepals look like petals, but are landing platforms that direct pollinators to where they have to go. Some sepals are “bearded” with what looks like an escaping caterpillar.

Aptly, all of the many plants in this family are named Irises after the Greek goddess of the rainbow, whose name also means rainbow. In France, the Iris was recognized as the symbol of royalty and stylized as the fleur-de-lis. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: It's Not Easy Being Green

We have eight species of native frogs in Maine. With one exception, all of them have memorable names that are helpful for description: Spring Peeper, Gray Treefrog, Pickerel Frog, Northern Leopard Frog, Mink Frog, Wood Frog, and, of course, Bull Frog.

The exception is this little fellow here who greeted us yesterday. He’s the “Green Frog.” Why someone would give one of our several species of green frogs the common name of the Green Frog is beyond me. It would be like naming the Northern Cardinal The Red Bird.

Nonetheless, we have here a fine Green Frog and we wish him well. (We can tell that he’s an adult male because his eardrum [“tympanum “] is larger than his eye.) Green frogs can grow to about four inches in length, with the females usually larger than their mates. But, the males have more memorable calling voices: they sound like someone plucking the same loose banjo string incessantly, unfortunately.

Speaking of naming frogs, the scientific name of the Green Frog is Rana clamitans, which means “frog that cries loudly.” It’s thought that this refers to the loud squeal that Green Frogs make when trying to leap away from danger.

More interesting facts are in Maine Amphibians and Reptiles (The University of Maine Press, 1999), which is highly recommended. (Brooklin, Maine) Click on image to enlarge it.

In the Right Place: The King and I

It was raining lightly when I got down to Naskeag Harbor yesterday and saw a happy Herring Gull there who wasn’t bothered at all by the drizzle. He had found a treasure in the form of the front half of a boiled lobster, apparently the jetsam from a recent maritime lobster bake.

The bird was as joyous as a puppy with a new bone, sticking his head and beak inside the red carapace, pulling out strings of meat, and gulping them down voraciously. Other Herring Gulls approached and screamed, but our lucky bird would drag the lobster body 10 or 20 feet away and resume his feast. His feathered brethren never got any. But, that’s hardly the end of the story.

The commotion attracted the above Great Black-Backed Gull – the largest species of seagull in the world, often called “the king of gulls.” The wing spans of these kings can reach five-and-one-half feet. They’re infamous for feeding on the eggs and live young of other gulls and ducks and stealing food from any smaller animal. They’re bullies, but sometimes sophisticated bullies.

The technique used yesterday by this Greater Black-Back was patient intimidation. He swooped down and landed in the shallow water about four feet from our happy Herring Gull. (Sexes assumed.) He floated there a minute and then stood up imperiously and silently, perhaps to show his size advantage.

Then, he slowly took a step or two toward his gulping cousin, stopped, and repeated the move after a pause. Soon, the Herring Gull got rattled and just stood above his lucky find without eating, all the while watching the king silently edging closer and closer.

Soon, the Herring Gull got the message, bowed to the king, and flew off without his treasure. The king took his cousin’s place at the feast and no one bothered him. We hear that the Herring Gull is still suffering from indigestion. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Osprey Nest Report 5

Ozzie and Harriet both seem to be physically well. However, they’ve been very agitated lately. I’m wondering whether something has happened to the eggs that they have been incubating – and still seem to be incubating. We had several terrible storms that deluged us at the end of May. The nest is exposed to all of the elements; if its drainage doesn’t work, it might flood.

Above, you see Ozzie arriving with a fish yesterday, trying not to land on Harriet who is in an incubating position with only her tail showing. This made her get to her feet and ruffle her feathers:

Soon, Ozzie took off again:

. (Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: The Blues

This lovely wildflower tangle, found in a Brooklin field yesterday, appears to be Lewis Flax (Linum lewisii), also known as Wild Blue Flax and Prairie Flax. It’s native to most of western North America, but unusual here in Maine. The plant was “discovered” on the western prairies by North American explorer Merriweather Lewis and named after him.

Although this and many other non-Maine-native “wildflowers” are unusual here, they’re becoming less and less unusual thanks to the availability of American wildflower seed mixes that can be delivered to our doors for immediate sowing in our “foreign” fields. A similar cultivated Eurasian flax plant, simply called Blue Flax (Linum perenne), also apparently is available here for gardeners. (Brooklin, Maine)

May Postcards From Maine

May is our month for condensed springtime. During the month, our plants experience a phenomenal growth surge and the weather is even more volatile. This year, May brought beautiful clouds, dense fogs, high winds, plenty of sunshine, and driving rain showers that turned the new summer coats of our White-Tailed Deer into shag.

One of the highlights of many Mays has been the domestic bliss of a pair of Osprey that repeatedly have returned to a large nearby nest to honeymoon and raise nestlings. We call the parents Ozzie and Harriet and report on them regularly. Below, you see Harriet incubating her eggs in her queen-sized nest, Ozzie joining her, and Ozzie fishing for Harriet’s lunch. (Severe over-night storms during the last few days of this May have us worried about the viability of her eggs. We’re watching.)

This May often was cold and windy. We saw only one tightly-tucked Painted Turtle basking in our pond during the month, and then even this tough guy disappeared back into the bottom muck and has not returned since. We expect him and several other shelled sunbathers in June.

On the commercial waterfront, some of the fishing vessels that have been dredging for scallops this winter still had their masts, booms, and other dragging gear attached at the end of the May. However, many others in Naskeag harbor and Stonington were using May to load up for June lobster fishing during the month.

On the recreational and educational waterfront, sailboats and other small craft were cleaned up and moored along the coast in May. Here, you see some of the WoodenBoat School’s small fleet, all of which were put into Great Cove during the month for classes in June.

May is the month that our flowering trees wake up and try to outperform each other. Below, we start with the white flowers of Shadblow and Chestnut trees. Following them are the blossoms and flowers of wild Apple Tree, Plum, and Crabapple trees.

The Crabapple Trees were stunning in sun and rain this year, as was the specimen Japanese Maple in the Brooklin Cemetery.

Lilac Bushes are always a May favorite around here. Their beauty and scent are the essence of the month.

In the woods and fields, other favorite May performances were given as usual during the month. Starflowers and Bunchberry began to cover the darkening woods’ floors and Lupines, Bluets, and Blue Flax appeared in the fields out of nowhere, an annual magic act that no one tires of.

May’s volatile growth is perhaps easiest seen in the bogs and ponds. Below are images near the beginning and end of the month: Fern, Arrow Arum, and Skunk Cabbage

Of course, May has its serious side. The month ends with Memorial Day and so will our report. Below, we see the Town’s historic Camperdown Elm proudly guarding fallen veterans and others in the Brooklin Cemetery.

(All images taken in Down East Maine during May 2021.)

In the Right Place: In Memoriam

Yes, Don; it’s that day again.

It’s time to remember my last walk with you, which was made difficult by your silence and flag-wrapped spirit atop a black caisson doing sad duty.

Your color guard was ahead of us, breeze at their backs, holding high the flags that know the way and seem eager show it to those of us who don’t want to see it.  

And, yes, most of all, Don: I’m trying to remember what you taught about honor and being honorable. It’s getting harder to remember that part.

Until next year, Don.

(Arlington Cemetery, ceremony of Lt. Col. Donald Green; U.S. Marine; Attorney-Colleague; Honorable Person, November 2015)

In the Right Place: Creepy Stuff

Bunchberry herbs are now flowering in the woods. These creeping members of the dogwood family are named after the clusters of red berries that they will produce in the summer, much to the delight of our vireos.

The yellow flowers that we see now have crisp white “petals,” but they’re not petals; they’re separate leaves that are designed to attract and channel pollinators to the flowers. The plants also are known as Canadian Dogwood, which is the literal translation of their botanical name, Cornus canadensis.

Bunchberry plants are not to be confused with Bunchbottom paint jobs, which also are appearing now. But, that’s another story.

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Early, But Welcome

The rain last night and this morning brought a little happiness to our stressed landscapes and woods, but they need much more. The near-drought situation seems to have provoked our Horse Chestnut Trees (Aesculus hippocastanum) into sprouting their beautiful, foot-long candelabra-shaped flower stalks a bit early along the coast here. The trees’ usually lush palmate leaves also seem dry for May. The images shown here were taken on Thursday (May 27).

Horse Chestnut trees are native to the Balkans. They were imported into England in 1616, primarily for landscape shade on large estates. They were first exported from England to its American colonies as shade trees in the 1740s.

The large tree is called a chestnut tree because of perceived similarities to the European Sweet Chestnut Tree (Castanea sativa), but it’s not related to that tree. Most botanists say that it was called a “Horse” Chestnut because the Turks fed its conker seeds to cure coughing horses. Some also say that it got that name because, when the trees’ leaves fall, they leave scars on their twigs that look like horseshoes complete with nail holes. (Brooklin, Maine) See also the image in the first Comment space.

In the Right Place: Climate Change

Some of the fishing vessels in Naskeag Harbor yesterday were still wearing their scallop dredging equipment for winter mollusk dragging and were showing the wear and tear of cold weather fishing. See Tarr Baby below; she likely will have her dragger mast, boom and other scalloping gear removed soon.

Some vessels in the Harbor yesterday already had had that equipment removed and had been spiffed up to start summer lobstering, probably in mid- to late June when the lobsters usually are most active. See Captain Morgan below:

The Harbor bait hut already has been installed on its raft in the middle of the Harbor. It not only sells lobster trap bait and boat fuel, it also buys lobsters from returning fishermen (a term that also refers to females here).

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Star Trek, Brooklin Galaxy

The deciduous tree leaves have filled much of the forest canopies and, when a breeze sways them, the woods trails are full of sliding sunbeams and stretching shadows. The light and shadow show make it both easier and harder to see the Starflowers (Trientalis borealis) now rising from the mossy and leafy earth.

However, there seems to be fewer of the plants than in past years. Perhaps it’s because our woods are in near-drought conditions.

There was, however, a promising sign that may mean rain is coming: there were plenty of “Lucky Stars” to thank. These are Starflowers that have seven petals arising out of a seven-leafed plant.

(Brooklin, Maine)

In the Right Place: Monumental

It was windy in Brooklin yesterday, with gusts exceeding 20 miles per hour down at Naskeag Harbor, shown here with its two “monument flags” being given a workout:

The monument to the Battle of Naskeag that the flags honor did not budge, but the story of that Revolutionary War event continues to evolve. A few residents say that it never happened, but most of us are willing to accept that something with guns happened here in 1778.

Few of us think that a real “battle” took place, however. It was more of a potshot followed by a later game of hide-and-seek between a few fast-retreating Americans and a lot of panting British redcoats.

As the leading story goes, Willie Reed of Brooklin was down in the Harbor in April of 1778 and he saw an enemy (British) barge passing close by. Well, Willie was a crack shot. He fired his musket at the barge and actually killed one of its crew with his first and only ball, according to the story.

The British were not amused. They vowed to come back and teach a lesson to the treasonous inhabitants of Plantation 4, which comprised Brooklin, Brooksville, and Sedgwick. As promised, two British war ships arrived at the Harbor in July and put ashore a party of more than 60 soldiers.

The red-coated British soldiers chased Naskeag’s seven drab American militiamen up and around the peninsula in a running gun battle. There apparently is no record of any American or redcoat being killed, but local farms were torched and Brooklin livestock was slaughtered by the enemy landing party

Why we want to celebrate this is a mystery. Nonetheless, you have to admit that the monument looks good down there. (Brooklin, Maine)