In the Right Place: Paths of Least Resistance

Here are a few images from yesterday morning’s walk after the snow stopped falling. Maine has many secluded lanes that are long driveways or otherwise private roads that serve multiple driveways for houses in the woods.

Those that serve houses that are occupied during the winter usually are plowed, but there always is enough snow on the lane to record the passing of furry, feathered, or booted travelers.

Judging by that tracked history, our deer, bobcats, turkeys, and other animals that are always on the move usually prefer to take a plowed lane rather than crunchy snow, if the lane is secluded and can take them near where they want to go.

The same apparently is true for paths in the woods that have been cleared for human walking, even though not plowed.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on February 5, 2022.)

In the Right Place: The Morning After

This morning was a good one for checking tracks in the snow from yesterday’s snowfall – and for having a staring contest with three neighbors who were making fresh tracks.

Snow that’s untrammeled by human feet is always a calming sight:

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on February 5, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Survival

We’re in the midst of a nasty winter storm of rain, sleet, ice, and (so they predict) 6 to 10 inches of snow to top things off later. Yet, most of our winter birds, large and small, will survive far better than we would if we stayed outside.

Leighton Archive Image

Their survival is dependent on their ability to maintain their elevated body temperature (generally about 105°F) to be active enough to find food. Stated another way, winter birds need to slow down body heat loss. The smaller the bird, the more difficult this is. Ingesting calories needs to be maximized and expending calories needs to be minimized.

Leighton Archive Image

That means, among other things, winter birds must engage in less activity that is not associated with consuming food; shelter in tree cavities, crevices, and nesting boxes if they can; and, fluff their feathers to create a cushion of insulated air that can be heated by a resting body. Curiously, it also means self-reducing their body heat when immobile at night. Reducing the difference in temperature between the bird and its environment reduces body heat loss.

Leighton Archive Image

The Leighton archive images shown here were taken in Brooklin, Maine, and are of mourning doves trying to get to food (which they eventually did), a black-capped chickadee hunting for food, and a wild turkey conserving energy.

In the Right Place: The Balm Before the Storm

We continue to be on a weather trampoline here. It was a balmy 40 degrees (F) at 7:15 a.m. this morning and too foggy to see clearly beyond 100 feet, as you see here.

It began raining shortly thereafter, which cleared away both the fog and some of last week’s snow. Yesterday at this time it was 33 degrees and overcast; the day before, it was 11 degrees with a wind chill of 3 and was crystal clear.

As for tomorrow, it’s predicted to be another meteorological Armageddon. Our area is under the following Winter Storm Warning from the National Weather Bureau for 10 p.m. tonight to 10 p.m. tomorrow: “Heavy mixed precipitation expected. Total snow accumulations of 6 to 10 inches, sleet accumulations of up to two inches and ice accumulations of around one tenth of an inch expected. Winds gusting as high as 35 mph.”

I’m glad I’m not a chickadee. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on February 3, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Beauty and the Beast

This is the iced-in pond at WoodenBoat yesterday, now swept gracefully by an additional layer of snow from last week’s nor’easter. Its beauty belies a danger if the pond stays completely covered like this.

The danger is “winter kill,” when a pond or lake is covered by a suffocating blanket of ice or – worse – covered by ice that is sealed with snow that extends beyond the pond’s edge. The tight cover prevents the natural exchange of gasses. The oxygen in a pond is finite; hibernating turtles and frogs, fish, and vegetation below the ice and snow can be suffocated unless the oxygen is renewed. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on February 1, 2022.)

January Postcards From Maine

January apparently decided to show off her enormous weather-making capacity to bring in the new year. At first, we had some brilliantly clear days, some warm and some cold.

Then, there were January’s darker moments, including two significant snow storms, high winds, and flood tides.

January’s most enjoyable days were those after the murky storms — clear and cold with silver and gold winter light — days of resurrection for walking, playing, and involuntary smiles.

Despite the storms, January wasn’t hard on our wildlife. The white-tailed deer in their thick winter coats still enjoyed their early morning invasions of gardens; some snowy owls preferred the hunting here to that in Canada, and herring gulls kept warm by taking one-footed sunbaths.

On the waterfront, the scallop fishing was in mid-season. The returning fishing vessels got a rousing welcome from our sea gulls who hoped to get a few mollusk intestines thrown their way.

The month also gave us our first significant sea smoke, a phenomenon caused by very cold air sweeping over warmer sea water.

January hid her “full wolf moon” from us with a thick overcast on the appointed full moon night. However, prior to that night, the partially full wolf moon made appearances in the blue skies on several clear days.

Of course, December and January are known for their sunsets on clear cold days when the atmosphere has less moisture and pollution. This January did not disappoint.

(All images in these Postcards were taken in Down East Maine during january 2022.)

In the Right Place: Whistlers

Here we see a common goldeneye duck in one of the open areas in nearly iced-in Patten Bay recently. He’s an immature (“eclipse”) male that needs open, relatively shallow water to dive for his meals of fish and marine invertebrates (crabs, sea stars, etc.).

Why these birds are called goldeneyes is obvious, but they’re also known as “whistlers” due to the sound that their short, fast-beating wings make when they take off.

Finding good, open diving water can be a problem now for goldeneyes (Bucephala clangula americana). Here’s what the Bay looked like that day:

However, finding open water is not their main problem. Vickery’s Birds of Maine, citing National Audubon Society data, stated in 2020 that, “As goldeneyes primarily nest in the taiga [cold, subarctic forest where the birds nest in tree cavities], climate change over the next 60 years is projected to diminish both the quantity of appropriate forest and quality of breeding habitat.” (Images taken in Surry, Maine, on January 22, 2022.)

In the Right Place: All's Well

Last night’s “blizzard” wasn’t very scary here. We’re fairly well protected by tall conifers to our northeast, where the storm was coming from. Here’s an image taken during the storm:

Substantial winds caused the fine snow to drift quite a bit, making it hard to tell how much accumulation there was. It looks like less than 10 inches, judging by the snow in protected areas.

The morning sun brought in a glorious new day and our driveway was plowed early. On the other hand, the power and the Internet have been spotty, and the deer were celebrating their survival by further decimating the garden before being shouted away. Some images from this morning as the sun rose:

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on January 29 and 30, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Colorful Sight

Ever since my recent encounter with a snowy owl (January 25, 2022, post), I’ve been trying to find out whether the colors of birds’ eyes, especially yellow irises like the snowy’s, provide functional sight advantages. My rather superficial research has turned up a few interesting theories, but no seemingly conclusive answers.

Bald Eagle

One (highly criticized) theory relating to the sharp-sighted bald eagle is that its semi-transparent yellow irises, compared to darker ones, apparently let more diffused light get to the image-recognizing retina; and, that additional light may have a yellow cast to it that increases focusing sharpness. (Glasses with yellow lenses seem to make images sharper for certain humans with vision problems, perhaps the same effect works on normal bald eagles, according to this theory, which seems to lack scientific support.)

Another theory has to do with the association of eye color with the hunting habits of owls. Those that hunt mostly at night, such as barn and barred owls, have black or dark brown eyes.

Barb Owl

Barred Owl

Those owls with yellow eyes, such as short-eared, great horned, and snowy owls, seem to prefer hunting during the day.

Short-Eared Owl

Great Horned Owl

Snowy Owl

Whether the colors have evolved to enhance hunting success apparently is not known. (All images from the Leighton archives.)

In the Right Place: Baby, It's Cold Outside

You know it’s cold when the herring gulls practice yoga. This sunbathing position is a heat conservation adaptation used by birds that have relatively long uncovered legs.

There can be a significant heat loss from standing on two bare legs on a cold day. What can a poor bird do? Cut heat losses in half by tucking one leg under its insulating feathers and hoping not to get blown over.

Additional heat loss management techniques of seagulls (and other birds) include assuming an egg brooding position on the ground – when the ground is not too cold. There also is the technique of tucking bare faces under warm wing shoulder feathers.

Leighton Archive Image

Many shorter-legged winter birds can fluff their body feathers up enough to provide extra insulation and cover most of their bare legs in cold weather. See our archive images of a Northern Cardinal and Mourning Dove:

Leighton Archive Image

Leighton Archive Image

(Primary image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on January 22, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Winter Colors

Here, standing tall in yesterday’s bitter cold brilliance, is a local landmark known as – you guessed it – “The Red House.”

It has two significant winter-related characteristics that remind us of earlier New England structures. First, in days of yore when good paint was relatively scarce and expensive, frugal farmers here reportedly made their own paint by digging red iron oxide from the ground and mixing it with skimmed milk and lime. The resulting rusty-red color resisted snow and sleet longer than commercial paint and perked up drab winter days.

Second, the houses were interconnected (except for the “out” houses) with barns and other functional spaces to minimize outdoor trips in “wicked-hard weath-ah.” (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on January 26, 2021.)

In the Right Place: Make-Believe

Yesterday, we had one of those small, gentle snowstorms that can change reality into make-believe. It left in the afternoon as quietly as it came, having caused no problems. Its two inches of new snow were of little moment for our eager snowplowing trucks.

The beginning of the storm:

During the storm:

The calm and glowing sunset after the storm:

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on January 25, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Finally!

I happily shot an unvaccinated and undocumented Canadian immigrant yesterday morning. That is, I finally “got” a snowy owl this year, although the circumstances were not perfect and I hope to do better.

This female snowy was beyond the effective reach of my large lens, but I couldn’t get closer without bothering her. So, I apologize for the fuzziness.

She was at the edge of the woods, where she blended into the shadows and rocks on which she was perched. She slowly moved her head while surveilling the field in front of her, but kept her body still except for an occasional shift in weight. We had a staring contest for more than an hour in the cold, before I decided that she was too contented to fly. The males are whiter and smaller than the densely salted-and-peppered females, as shown in this Archive image of a male: 

Leighton Archive

The current thinking seems to be that snowies migrate south when their population is swelling in the Arctic and Canada and, consequently, hunting territories are difficult to establish up north. (Image taken in Down East Maine on January 24, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Adaptation

This Maine native was totally unimpressed with the freezing arctic airs that were swirling around her on Saturday. White-tail deer are superbly adapted for winter; they reportedly can survive in temperatures down to 30 degrees below zero Fahrenheit. 

How do they do it? There are a number of organic and lifestyle reasons reported in the literature, including the following ones.

To begin with, the deer eat voraciously in the fall to increase their fat storage; they reportedly can store enough fat to lose up to 30 percent of their weight during the winter. They also “run hot”: their body temperatures average about 104 degrees, compared to our 98-99.

In addition, their body heat and outside heat are managed efficiently. The deer grow darker gray-brown winter coats that absorb heat. Those coats are layered with hollow guard hairs over furry undercoats, which the deer can adjust for maximum insulation by using their muscles. The deer usually are so well insulated that the snow on their backs doesn’t melt:

eighton Archive Image

In terms of lifestyle, white-tails reduce their activity during the winter. They move more during the warmer daylight hours and rest more at night to conserve energy. In really bad weather, they often seek collective refuge in a protected “deer yard”– an area in the woods with natural wind barriers, food, and (if possible) a nearby clearing with a southern exposure for taking in sunlight, should it appear.  (Primary image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on January 22, 2022.)

In the Right Place: A Winter's Day

Here you see the sun leaving us yesterday after helping to brighten a clear but cold winter’s day.

A mass of arctic air has been visiting us for several days, keeping temperatures well below freezing. However, pucks are on the ponds and properly dressed winter lovers are out and about.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on January 22, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Swelled Heads

Bufflehead ducks, the smallest sea ducks in North America, have been arriving from Canada all week. A few are tuckered out when they get here and take sunbaths.

These birds (Bucephala albeola) are fascinatingly strange. They seldom reach 16 inches in length and fly here and there in fast, low formations that make no whirring noise. When in the water, they dive almost continuously for crabs, clams, and sea plants. Yet, they nest inside tree cavities abandoned by flickers and pileated woodpeckers.

Their name refers to the black and white males, which some think are “buffalo-headed.” They have enlarged heads with a big white scoop behind the eyes that they can flex larger to make their heads resemble (somewhat) those of American “buffalos” (“bison” to quibblers). The smaller-headed females are darker overall with just a dabbed white streak behind the eyes. (Leighton archive images taken in Brooklin, Maine.)

In the Right Place: Winter Blues

A marauding band of blue jays came screaming through the woods behind our house yesterday. The pleasant invasion made me realize that we haven’t talked about our winter birds recently. So, let’s briefly focus on blue jays (Cyanocitta cristata), which always seem to have a mischievous gleam in their eyes:

As do crows and some other birds, blue jays spend the winter in larger groups than at other times. It’s thought that this winter flocking is a defensive measure (more eyes, ears, and squawks) to detect and deter hawks and owls. Those bird-eating raptors can see and attack their prey better in a leafless world – especially if that prey is bright blue.

On that subject, the jays are not partly blue in the sense that their feathers contain blue pigment; they’re partly blue because the structure of those colorful feathers refracts light in a way that our eyes perceive the color blue. If you ground those blue feathers, we’re told, you’d get a pile of brown beta-keratin, the protein that birds share with reptiles due to their common origins. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, in prior years.)

In the Right Place: Timeline

This random alignment in Naskeag Harbor yesterday seems to tell a winter’s tale:

Two lobster traps from last season apparently are awaiting storage; they sit in front of a collapsed scallop drag that apparently is awaiting reinstallation on a fishing vessel, and, in the background, the crew of Fishing Vessel Dear Abbie: is getting their own replacement drag ready to continue the scallop scooping season. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on January 19, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Weather Report and Ice Tunnels

It’s sparkling clear and the ambient temperature is 12 degrees (F) here, as I write. There is little wind, so there is no significant windchill to make noses even colder. Recent rains have cleared away virtually all of the snow; the ground is frozen hard; moss is crunchy underfoot, and spring-fed streams are running through ice tunnels of their own making, as you see in this image from yesterday.

I’ve always wondered how those streams make their own ice tunnels, since water freezes at 32 degrees whether or not it’s flowing. A little research indicates that the first event in building a stream ice tunnel is surrounding air that is much colder than 32 degrees.

That’s because flowing stream surface water mixes with water below that is higher in temperature and has trouble getting to 32 and staying there. However, when it gets cold enough long enough, the churning of the water can’t stop surface waters from staying at 32 or below and turning into ice. This surface ice can protect the water below and keep it flowing at above 32 degrees.

If, however, it gets very, very cold over time, the temperature of the entire flowing stream can be driven to below 32 degrees long enough to freeze the whole stream into a sculpture of itself. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on January 18, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Dancing in the Rain With Wolves

Here you see the Town pier in Naskeag Harbor at about mid-day yesterday. Tens of thousands of homes in Maine lost power during this storm, but we’re not aware of any significant damage done locally.

Driving rain and southeast winds that gusted up to 65 miles per hour slammed ashore, panicking the usually placid Harbor waters. And, it happened during an unusually high tide that was being influenced by January’s full moon, which also was rising yesterday.

Unfortunately, the storm clouds prevented us from getting a look at that full moon, which was named the Wolf Moon by early settlors who thought that it attracted hungry wolves. Thus began another false belief for those who are more credulous than curious when it comes to finding the truth. For those who hold such old (and perhaps new) false beliefs, here’s an “actual” photograph of January’s Full Wolf Moon:

(Pier image takin in Brooklin, Maine, on January 17, 2022; moon image created by merging two archive images, one of which was a Siberian Husky.)