JOURNAL
Yesterday’s much-vaunted “winter storm” turned out to be a dull event with little wind and not nearly the largest amount of snow predicted, at least at our place. It looks like we got about three inches of snow.
Nonetheless, today turned out to be a stunner, albeit a cold one: minus 2 with a windchill of minus 14 at 6:45 this morning when I went out to take the images here.
(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on February 25 and 26, 2022.)
Here you see the usually well-mannered Patten Stream in Surry running amok on Wednesday due a warming snow melt.
Yet now, as this is being written at 7:30 this morning, it’s snowing and 14 degrees (F). We seem to be caught in a pernicious winter cycle of snow, freezing weather, thawing warmth, and melting rain.
The precipitation has helped most of Maine and other parts of the nation recover from water scarcity. However, more than half of the United States (including parts of western Maine) remains dangerously dry this winter and a potential source for continual harm to human and other animal and plant life.
I’m posting yesterday’s official Drought Monitor Map to help you focus on our environmental sickness:
The map illustrates the reported data as of February 22 by showing the areas that have no drought problem (white) compared to those that are “abnormally dry” (yellow), in “moderate drought” (tan), in “severe drought” (burnt orange), in “extreme drought” (red), and in “exceptional drought” (brown).
(Photographs taken in Surry, Maine, on February 23, 2025.)
February weather continues to resemble a concertina squeezed by a madman. Yesterday, Maine reached record warm highs in the 60s (F degrees) in some places. The ice tunnels encasing the spring-fed streams melted, and we finally saw the gurgling water:
As this is written at 7:30 a.m., it’s 14 degrees with a windchill of 01 degree. And, much of Maine is under a winter storm warning for tomorrow afternoon or evening, when up to a foot of snow and significant winds are expected. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on February 23, 2022.)
Here you see yesterday afternoon’s fog starting to envelop this familiar connected house and barn. When it finally hides the unoccupied structure, the fog’s work will amount to an act of kindness.
It will ease the journey of regular passers-by who hate to watch this once-lovely home die a slow, lonesome death – while the home, itself, appears to be embarrassed by having to die that way in public. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on February 22, 2022.)
Today being the only “Twosday” (2-22-22) we’ll ever see, we offer you two winter seascapes that will never recur exactly the same: two of our local scallopers caught in the ever-changing glow of yesterday’s setting sun:
The first image is of Dear Abbie:, owned and captained by Scott Keenan. The second is of Tarrfish, owned and captained by David Tarr, who also dives for “diver’s scallops.” Here they are together::
(Images taken in Naskeag Harbor, Brooklin, Maine, on February 21, 2022.)
Very disturbing news about the health of bald and golden eagles in the United States was published in the February 17 issue of Science. The prestigious Journal reported that, “Unexpectedly high frequencies of lead poisoning” were found in the birds in a comprehensive study of 1210 of them. The field work for the national study took place during the years 2010 to 2018 in 38 states, including a Maine bald eagle testing site.
Bald Eagle, Leighton Archive Image
Chronic lead poisoning (as measured in the bone) was found in 46 to 47 percent of the eagles. Acute lead poisoning (as measured in liver, blood, and feathers) was found in 27 to 33 percent of bald eagles and 7 to 35 percent of goldens.
Golden Eagle, Leighton Archive Image
Acute poisoning was generally higher in the winter when the eagles commonly scavenge carcasses of deer and other animals. “Use of lead in ammunition during hunting seasons corresponds directly … with the feeding” of bald and golden eagles. “Our data show a continent-wide temporal correspondence between acute lead poisoning of eagles and the use of lead ammunition.”
This study may be powerful enough to convince the powers that be to ban lead hunting ammunition and lead fishing tackle.
We seem to have more than the usual number of American crows (Corvus brachyrhynchos) here this winter. Many of Maine’s inland crows come to the coast for the winter because there usually is more accessible food here than inland.
In other seasons, these tough birds usually are territorial and hostile to strange crows. However, in winter, they roost overnight with “foreign” crows in community trees. The practice is thought to be a defensive maneuver – more eyes, ears, and beaks – against their arch enemies, the nocturnal great horned owls and other large owls that can see the crows easier in winter’s leafless trees.
It’s not only owls that these birds need to fear. They’re not protected by federal and state migratory bird laws. This can be a problem for birds that are considered by many to be pests that harm orchids, corn fields, and other birds, not to mention being loud mess-makers when they congregate near humanity.
Many states, including Maine, allow crows to be hunted for sport and pest control under regulations that apply to when and how the birds may be killed. There is no limit on the number of crows that may be shot in Maine’s designated seasons; and, hunters are allowed to shoot them here with lead shot and shotguns capable of holding more than three shells.
(Lead from ammunition and fishing tackle left in the carcasses of mammals, birds, and fish seems to be poisoning high percentages of bald and golden eagles. But, that’s a tragic story for another day.)
Leighton Archive images of Maine crows are shown here.
Soon after posting yesterday’s description of the morning’s high winds and warm temperatures, a cyclonic burst twisted this 70-foot fir down into our garden. Other trees in the area suffered similar fates.
Then, within about an hour, the sun came out and the unseasonably warm temperatures started to plummet into the cold snap that continues now. (11 degrees [F] at 7 a.m. today.)
Nonetheless, yesterday afternoon had its delights, as you’ll see from this image of Blue Hill Bay with the eponymous Hill in the background:
(Images taken in Brooklin on February 19 [tree] and Blue Hill February 18 [Hill], 2022.)
We’ve been getting March weather in February. Here you see our local woods yesterday morning, where nothing was moving except the trees.
They were swaying in wind gusts that exceeded 30 miles per hour. Moreover, the temperatures were unseasonably warm, approaching 50 degrees (F). The snow was melting fast, often revealing long layers of slippery ice.
As I write this morning, things are worse. It’s raining and near-constant winds are gusting above 40 mph, while the temperature is at 51 degrees and rising. It’s not a good thing to have tall spruce, fir, and pine trees swaying wildly while the ground is thawing quickly.
If past is prologue, a cold snap will occur soon and deliver a body blow to the poor awakening trees. In the meantime, I’m not going to take a morning walk. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on February 17, 2022.)
I posted a long-view image of this structure during a snow flurry last month and one of my barn-loving FaceBook friends asked if I had a “closeup in clear weather” of it. I did not, but yesterday I was on Flye Point where the building is and took this image.
It does have character. The structure apparently originally was a barn and has been there many years. If any of you knows how long, please let us know. It has undergone changes over time and, I think, it’s now a summer residence or several summer apartments.
Here’s the snow flurry image for perspective:
(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on February 16 [sun] and January 25 [snow].)
Seeing American robins in Maine now does not mean that spring is soon to come. We have plenty of these hardy thrushes overwintering in the State, especially here along the coast.
They’ve been sighted in 70 to 100 percent of recent reported Christmas Bird Counts along the coast up to Eastport, according to the literature. Flocks of them will denude crabapple trees of their frozen fruit in a short time and some even go crabbing in the rockweed at low tide.
(Leighton Archive Images shown here.)
Yesterday, we had a delightful little Valentine’s Day snowfall that covered the fields with fluffy snow. This sunny morning, about eight of the white-tailed deer that had been sheltering in the woods moved to the edge of our north field and surveilled it for the longest time, but didn’t step out as usual.
Perhaps they were worried about being too obvious in their dark winter coats browsing in the brightly lighted field.
(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, om February 15, 2022.)
To the women who love birds, I offer this image of a handsome fellow because it’s Valentine’s Day and he’s the color of love, joy, and passion. He’s posing to get the attention of a female to whom he’ll swear his faithfulness, but only for a year.
Leighton Archive Image
Yes, he’s a Northern Cardinal, a dashing bird that usually starts breeding in March, but already is fighting other males over nesting territory. That’s where his control will end, though. He won’t mate until and unless he’s chosen by a dusky female – and those female Cardinals are very independent and demanding birds. Here’s one:
Leighton Archive Image
Female Cardinals are one of the few female birds that will sing back to good looking males who come courting. Research also shows that the females try to pick the reddest male Cardinal available for a mate, since brilliant color is an indicator of good health and successful lineage.
Most of our snow has been melted by unseasonably warm temperatures combined with recent rains. Yet, we’re in a bit of a cold dip as this is being written and light snow flurries are predicted.
We’re almost at the midpoint of this short month and I must say that it hasn’t been bad so far – for a February. We’ve had more than our usual share of dazzling days, including the one shown below from last week. (The image is part of our monthly documentation of this vista).
As many of you know, that’s Mount Cadillac brooding in Acadia National Park in the distance, Blue Hill Bay and its islands in the middle ground, and a fallow field on Amen Ridge in the foreground. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on February 9, 2022.)
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.
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
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.)
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.)
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.
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.)
