In the Right Place: Where Things Go

Tree-lined lanes heading toward infinity are especially intriguing in the lights and shadows of a sunny winter’s day. This type of creation is what landscape architects might call an allée (pronounced “ah-LAY”): a passageway between evenly spaced trees or large bushes of the same species.

In this local allée, it looks like lines of sugar maples were planted many years ago to welcome those of us who always wonder where things go. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on February 9, 2022.) Click on image to enlarge it.

In the Right Place: National Brrr-ds

This image appeared yesterday in our monthly column in the Ellsworth American, which was about Maine’s winter bald eagles.

To read the column, click here: http://www.5backroad.com/montly-column

In the Right Place: Plain but Special

Here you see Brooklin’s Beth Eden Chapel being hugged by maple tree shadows yesterday morning. This plain, one-room nondenominational church and meeting place was completed in 1900.

It’s not used much now, but it was once the emotional center of a small rural community of hard-working people. They came to this special place to offer prayers; celebrate christenings and weddings; join in rousing hymn-sings; decide important issues, and to weep at funerals. The Chapel is even plainer on the inside:

Leighton Archive Image

(Primary image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on February 9, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Tough Love

We bought this “Christmas Amaryllis” as a bulb about 30 days before December 25, which has been our annual practice for quite some time. However, contrary to the advertising, it didn’t bloom until last week. Maybe it will last long enough to be our “Valentine’s Amaryllis,” which would be fitting, given the legends surrounding these plants.

This tropical flower is named after the mythical Greek nymph Amaryllis, who was the subject of a number of slightly differing legends. All of these tales feature her love for the handsome Alteo, a shepherd who loved flowers, but paid no attention to her beauty. 

In one of the typical legends, Amaryllis pierced her heart with a golden arrow and spilled drops of her blood for 30 days while she pledged her love to Alteo. He paid no attention until the 30th day, when each drop suddenly burst into a beautiful red flower. That did the job, and they lived happily ever after.   

In actuality, the amaryllis plant originated in South Africa and its bulb cultivation and marketing began in the early 1700s. Victorians viewed the amaryllis not only as a representation of love, but also as a symbol of strength based on its sturdy stem.:

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

In the Right Place: Anxiety

Very still February mornings can make me inexplicably anxious sometimes. They usually come when the forces of nature seem to be undecided on which of the month’s many weather options to choose – sunny and bright; dark and gloomy; rain, snow, or sleet; windy or calm; bitter cold or unusually mild, or a little of this and a little of that?

Above you see one of those still moments in Naskeag Harbor yesterday morning, when familiar sights looked less familiar, seemingly waiting for something. In the moment, the tide rises slowly; the fishing vessel hardly moves on her slack line; three gulls float listlessly, and the summer house on Harbor Island stares emptily from its white pedestal.

By early afternoon, the forces had decided to darken the day, sprinkle a few snowflakes here and there, and keep the temperatures above freezing so that a night full of rain could melt some of the snow.

It’s still raining as I write, but my anxiety is gone. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on February 7, 2025.) Click on the image to enlarge it.

In the Right Place: Everchanging Sameness

Here you see the iconic boat house in icy Conary Cove yesterday.

We keep a seasonal record of this vista in hopes of catching its special quality of preserving a familiar attraction within perpetual change – the continual making and remaking of a dramatic scene.

(Images taken in Blue Hill, Maine, on February 6, 2022.)

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.)