JOURNAL
Here you see the 170-foot Schooner Victory Chimes (launched in 1900) leaving Great Cove in the sunny morning of August 4:
Here’s the 91-foot Schooner Tree of Life (launched in 1991) entering the Cove in the hazy-foggy afternoon of August 7:
Changing weather is the norm here on the coast. As this is written, it’s so foggy that we can’t see our North Field, no less the Cove and what’s in it. (Brooklin, Maine)
Tiger Lilies (Lilium lancifolium) have come into full bloom here, their swept back petals giving them the appearance of pulsating sea forms swimming in the garden air.
They’re native to China, where they have been admired and depicted in literature and artworks since at least the 10th Century.
Those Tiger Lily petals and bulbs, by the way, are edible by humans, but not dogs and cats, which can have severe adverse reactions from eating them. Chinese chefs reportedly like to use the bulbs (when available) in moo shu pork. (Brooklin, Maine; images taken Sunday, August 8.)
Yesterday was a high summer day here. The temperatures were below 80 (F) with a breeze that provoked involuntary smiles. There was haze on the sea, but cumulonimbus clouds worthy of N.C. Wyeth were performing their now-you-see-it-now-you-don’t trick with the sunshine.
Our fields are now thick with proud Queen Anne’s Lace and emerging Goldenrod. The ponds are mostly carpeted with Fragrant Lily pads and flowers, but with room for clouds to float.
(Brooklin, Maine)
Here you see the fog lifting off Great Cove early this morning. Few are stirring on the sailboats that raced in the annual Eggemoggin Reach Regatta yesterday, but a breakfasting deer can be seen by those with keen eyesight:
The boats in that 15-mile race yesterday encountered heavy haze and difficult (sometimes nonexistent) winds. The air often was light near the finish line at the Cove entrance, where some boats had to tack across.
The Schooner Tree of Life came into the Cove before the finish to allow her passengers to see the end of the race:
The prestigious Regatta has been run for wooden boats since 1985 and has been cancelled only once by fog. (Nonetheless, the after-race party was held then.) The Regatta is sponsored by the Brooklin Boat Yard and Rockport Marine boat builders and the after-race party takes place at the WoodenBoat School campus, overlooking the Cove. (Brooklin, Maine)
August is a good time to sneak up on Painted Turtles (Chrysemys picta) to see these natives basking. They’re usually very shy and will disappear under water if they see or otherwise sense your presence at a distance.
I’ve found it best to approach them slowly while keeping a screen of cattails or other vegetation between us; usually there are small openings through which you can peer when you get close. That’s what we did yesterday to “catch” the young fellow above.
Painted Turtles have existed for at least 15 million years, according to fossil records. They reportedly evolved into four subspecies during the last glacial age, which ended almost 12 thousand years ago. Our subspecies, shown here, is the Eastern Painted Turtle (C.p. picta); it’s the only subspecies with shell segments (“scutes”) that occur in virtually straight rows and columns. (Brooklin, Maine)
We had significant rain yesterday, through the early morning today, and there is a misty overcast here as this is written. The Viburnum berries are happy, the tourists are not, and Maine is still significantly dry. This image of the berries, was taken in yesterday’s rain:
Yesterday’s U.S. Drought Monitor reported that most of Maine still has a dryness problem. The U.S. Department of Agriculture Drought Monitor Map, tabulating data as of August 3, shows that the majority of the State remains “abnormally dry” (yellow), in “moderate drought” (tan), or in “severe drought” (burnt orange):
(Brooklin, Maine)
We hear that lobster prices paid to fishermen have been very good so far during this primary season, but that the catch numbers are down statewide.
Above, youl see Long Set, a local fishing vessel, catching lobsters right in our Naskeag Harbor on a cloudy Monday, August 2. (Brooklin, Maine)
Progress: The three Brooklin hatchlings are flying or virtually flying now. Here you see David, the oldest of Ozzie and Harriet’s 2021 brood, returning to the nest from a long solo flight yesterday.
That’s his sibling June in the foreground,; Harriet is in the middle, and his other sibling, Ricky, is ducking behind David. (Names and sexes assumed for descriptive purposes.) Here, left to right, are Harriet, David, and June after the landing:
I'm almost certain that I’ve seen Ricky flying recently, but this second-born is now difficult to distinguish from David. We’ll know for sure soon when we see them flying together. Here, I think, is David coming out of the fog on Monday, August 2, with his two siblings in the background:
June, the smallest and last-born (in late June), was doing the Osprey Bounce yesterday – catching breezes with flapping wings so that she elevates above the nest and can practice landings:
She’ll be flying around the neighborhood soon.
Ozzie is still doing all of the family fishing, as far as I’ve seen, but Harriet does not need to feed her youngsters anymore. They sometimes compete with her at grabbing the fresh fish.
Leighton Archive Image
The next developmental step for the youngsters likely will be to trail along with Ozzie as he fishes and then to try their own hands (talons) at fishing. Here’s an archive image of Ozzie returning to the nest with a fish:
Most researchers seem to think that Ospreys are not taught to fish, they just do it innately when they are ready. However, flying in a group over water with a hunting parent seems to prepare them for the physiological and mental moment when they feel brave enough to dive and plunge under water to grab a fish. (Brooklin, Maine)
Here you see the abundant berries of a Mountain Ash Tree in yesterday's morning fog. They appeared here in the mysterious trees about a week ago:
These trees (Sorbus aucuparia) are neither Ash Trees nor especially fond of mountains. They’re members of the Rose Tree family.
They’re also called Rowan Trees because our early Scots and Irish settlers mistakenly thought that they were the same as European Rowans, which were believed to ward off witches and have other magical properties. In nearby Canada, they’re known as Dogberry Trees and their berries are used to make Dogberry Jam, which is popular there.
Many old-timers here believe that an abundance of Mountain Ash berries in the summer and fall means a harsh winter. The theory is that this is one of the ways that Mother Nature protects the over-wintering birds. Of course, that was before we created Climate Change to ruin nature as it was. (Brooklin, Maine)
August arrived with splendor yesterday– cool, sunny, and breezy with a few clouds scudding across a bright blue sky. It was a hopeful sign after having just experienced the second wettest July in recorded Maine history, according to Portland records. But, our hopes were put in doubt when we awoke to fog and rain today. Nonetheless, after July, a one-out-of-two great day ratio seems fine.
Yesterday being the day of rest for most fishermen, we went to nearby Stonington on Deer Isle to see the fleet at anchor, which always is a reassuring sight. The small port ranks first in Maine for lobster landings by value: a reported $43.26 million last year, despite Covid 19.
The foreground of the image above shows part of the fishermen’s commuting system, which seems more refreshing than rides on buses or subways (except, perhaps, when it’s raining, densely foggy, very choppy, or cold and windy in predawn darkness).
It was low tide when we got there, so we got a bonus view of Stonington’s famous granite ledges.
(Stonington, Maine)
July of 2021 was different from prior Julys. To be sure, we had our traditionally grand vistas of sunlit fields, blue water bays, and Mount Cadillac Mountain in Acadia National Park across the way. The winding country roads and paths in dappled sunlight made walking and other local travel almost irresistible.
However, we had more fog and rain this July than we’ve had in recent memory, some of it made worse by drifting smoke from wildfires in the western states. After 1915, this July was the second wettest July in recorded Maine history, according to Portland records. Fields and harbors faded away in dense murk, flowers in gardens and ponds were pelted for hours by steady and hard rain.
Nonetheless, the precipitation was needed to remedy our unexpected and unusually dry winter and spring. The July ponds and wooded streams were full of water and the bogs were lush. When the sun did come out, the flora glowed; even when it didn’t, the soft greens around rushing water could be enchanting.
On the seas and bays, the tourists on coastal cruisers often never saw the beautiful sights that they had signed up to see. But, sometimes, the sun appeared and all was glorious again, especially for students learning to sail at the famous WoodenBoat School.
July is when our lobster fishermen (male and female) start their season in earnest. The convenience raft in Naskeag Harbor often is busy selling fuel and bait and buying lobsters, the traps are loaded and set, and the handsome vessels pose for us when the sun is fading and the fog is rolling in.
Although tourists complained, life went on as usual for our plentiful wildlife. White-Tailed Deer, their summer coats wet in the rain, grazed unconcerned in the succulent fields (and, unfortunately,, in many gardens).
Ozzie, Harriet, and their three youngsters, David, Ricky, and June — the local Osprey family that we monitor — flourished. As usual, Harriet had to be careful when feeding with her sharp beak and Ozzie would rise warlike to protect the nest every time a bald eagle passed by.
Other July bird favorites included male Red-Winged Blackbirds guarding their second brood in the marshes, Common Yellowthroat warblers hiding in the bushes, and Great Blue Herons fishing in the waters.
Among the most anticipated of our July insect visitors are the virtually endangered Monarch Butterflies. Their life cycle is being imperiled by Climate Change and the disappearance of milkweed, the leaves of which are the only food that their caterpillars eat. Those leaves also attract other leaf-munchers, including Red-Legged Locusts (Grasshoppers), which arrive in July.
The milkweed flowers, which appear and disappear in July, are favorite nectar fonts for the Monarch Butterflies and other pollinators.
This July, perhaps because of the rains and fogs, Black-Eyed Susans, Queen Anne’s Lace, Goldenrod, Bull Thistle, Bunch Berries, and Crown Vetch arrived early in the fields and woods.
Daylilies also came in a bit early in July, which was a great month to see Waxy-Caps and other mushrooms flourish in the wet woods.
Of course, perhaps the social highlight of the month is July 4, Independence Day. Last year, the Covid 19 Pandemic and rain assured that the traditional Brooklin grand celebration did not occur. This year, it did and we published a special entry on it in this Journal. The Brooklin Town Band, and plenty of flags, firetrucks,. and classic vehicles were on display
Finally, there was the July moon, which did not disappoint this year. Called the Buck Full Moon because it coincides with male deer starting to regrow their antlers, it arose shrouded in red out of our east-southeast sea horizon and silvered as it sailed high over Naskeag Harbor, illuminating fishing vessels there.
(All images here were taken in Brooklin and other Down East Maine locations during July 2021)
FaceBook Friend Steve Lauermann spotted this vessel as little more than a speck in my July 29 Post image and asked for information about her. Here are images of her today in Great Cove, where she’s been moored as one of the WoodenBoat School’s sailing class vessels:
She’s the Fishing Schooner Ellen C. Wells, out of Dutch Harbor, Jamestown, R.I. She was designed by William Garden and built and launched in 2015 in Kittery, Maine.
She’s 45 feet long overall, has a 10-foot beam (widest part) and a Yanmar 3GM 27 HP diesel engine. She’s gaff-rigged and fast, judging by the few times I’ve seen her under sail. Spiffy. (Brooklin, Maine)
Here you see David, the oldest of Ozzie and Harriet’s brood, doing the “Osprey Bounce” on July 24 – flapping his newly feathered wings and waiting for a breeze to lift him up above the nest, then plopping down again:
He and his siblings should be flying a bit now or soon, but they seem to refuse to do so when I visit. I visited this morning and could see only Harriet, looking regal at the end of the nest:
When she sits in that position, the three youngsters usually have been lying deep within the large nest. But, I like to think that they’re flying over Great Cove. (Brooklin, Maine)
It rained hard overnight and into this morning here on the coast, reportedly bringing our precipitation level to over five inches from July 1 through July 30; that’s at least an inch (25%) more than the monthly average for this, historically our driest, month, which has a rainy day to go.
The rain and frequent fog seem to have had a positive effect on our field flora, which are appearing sooner and longer than in past years:
The above image, taken two days ago (July 28), shows our Common Milkweed still robust, albeit with faded florets; Queen Anne’s Lace, still strong after coming in early; and Goldenrod, which has been coming in for over a week, although it usually doesn’t arrive here until August. (There’s also a Monarch Butterfly appreciating the Goldenrod, which seems to be Seaside Goldenrod [Solidago sempervirens] in this part of the field.) Other pollinators are loving the Goldenrod, as well:
The rain has relieved Maine from drought and dryness in the counties on our seacoast and along our northeast border with Canada. However, most of the State still has a dryness problem. Yesterday’s weekly U.S. Department of Agriculture Drought Monitor Map, tabulating data as of July 27, shows that the majority of Maine remains “abnormally dry” (yellow), in “moderate drought” (tan), or in “severe drought” (burnt orange):
(Brooklin, Maine)
The beautiful sunrise in Great Cove today, shown here, revealed that three of Maine’s Coastal Cruisers had sheltered there overnight: Lewis R. French (launched in 1871) is on the left with its mostly gray hull and aft sails up for stability; Angelique (1980) is in the center with its mostly dark green hull and no sails up, and Victory Chimes (1900), the only three-masted vessel, is on the right with its mostly black hull and aft sail up.
It looks like today is going to be our second day in a row without fog, rain, or significant overcast. Yesterday was an iconic Maine summer day. We had a clear view from Amen Ridge of Mount Cadillac in Acadia National Park, across Blue Hill Bay:
(Brooklin, Maine)
Once again, male Red-Winged Blackbirds are standing guard over their territories in our marshes, as this one was on Monday, July 26. Apparently, their second brood of the season is now here. (Some Red-Wings reportedly will have three broods a year, but two seems to be the usual number.)
These male Red-Wings are not only extraordinarily vigilant, they are among our most polygamous birds, according to ornithological reports. They may “keep” up to 15 females in 15 nests in their territory, which they defend angrily against any other intruder, including other birds and humans who get too close.
But, male Red-Wings do have their moments of contentment, when there is peace in their kingdoms and they can just groom:
(Brooklin, Maine)
Here you see the schooner Tree of Life leaving Great Cove yesterday morning in mist and fog and the vanguard of thin smoke that is reaching us from the raging western state wildfires.
(As this is written, today’s sunny morning is being made hazy by the drifting smoke, according to the weather tellers.)
The Tree, out of Newport, Rhode Island, is a 72-foot tourist cruiser that was launched in 1991 and has sailed worldwide. She is luxuriously appointed with airconditioned cabins, hot and cold water, DVD and large screen TV, and stereo in each cabin. Her pilot house is enclosed, which helps in weather such as yesterday’s.
Her name – Tree of Life – appears in Genesis as the source of eternal life in the Garden of Eden. However, according to one report, this schooner was christened Tree of Life because an Irish folk song of the same name was playing when its owners were looking for a name. (Brooklin, Maine)
This is the 26th day of July and the 20th day of the month that we’ve awakened to rain, fog, and/or an overcast day. Nonetheless, fog and rain make a summer garden lush with a subtle beauty that can sooth the disappointment from the sun’s rude rejection. Here are a few images from this morning:
(Brooklin, Maine)
The wild Black-Eyed Susans are starting to peek from (but not yet peak in) in our fallow fields, where they’ll flourish until September. The proud group shown below was staring into the sun yesterday amid other emerging field flora.
There are at least 30 species of North American Black-Eyed Susans, all apparently sunflowers of the Rudbecki genus; these are R. hirta, I think. However, the common name of these natives seems inapt. They don’t have black eyes; their center discs are dark brown. Furthermore, no Susan ever had black eyes; human eyes come with colored “irises,” a word derived from the Greek words colorful and rainbow.
Leighton Archive Image
These flowers’ common name apparently was inspired by the early 18th Century English ballad “Sweet William’s Farewell to Black-Eyed Susan.” Sweet William was departing for war and tearful Susan appeared by surprise on his ship to say goodbye. I guess that she had dark brown eyes and the light wasn’t too good; how she got on a warship is a mystery. (Brooklin, Maine)
Last night’s July full moon did not disappoint. It’s historically called the Buck Full Moon because it arrives at about the time when male deer are sprouting the velvety antlers that the bucks hope will grow into spiky displays that turn the heads of grazing does.
Above, you see the Buck Full Moon as it’s rising above Amen Ridge last night. Below, it’s sailing southeast above Naskeag Harbor, partially illuminating a fishing vessel.
At lower angles relative to us, the moon was turned yellow-orange by the sun’s light; as it gained height, it turned silver:
The most cited full Moon names, including this Buck Moon, come from The Old Farmer’s Almanac. They are based on historic sources, including Native American, Colonial American, and European sources.
Traditionally, each full Moon name was applied to the entire lunar month in which it occurred, not solely to the full Moon. (Brooklin, Maine)
