October Postcards From Maine

October is one of the more sensational months here on the Down East Coast. It begins with fall foliage that gets better and better as the month goes on then implodes with a cascade of falling colorful leaves. It ends with Halloween, a time of pretended fear and real fun. And, in between, there is the exhilaration of a changing season.

The foliage this October was about average, which means it was beautiful. The colors ranged widely from the reds of blueberry fields to the burnished golds of maple trees, all of which were sometimes transformed dramatically by fog, rain, and the magic light of sunrise. And, of course, the chrysanthemums always delivered their promise.

Sheets of rain and blankets of fog this October overcame the abnormal dryness that has plagued us for over a year. The brooks were gurgling, the ponds were brimming, and freshness pervaded the balsam-scented woods.

The Winterberry fruits this rainy October were more bountiful than they have been for decades, as were the bunched Mountain Ash berries. Unfortunately, so were the yellow husks and red berries of the very invasive Asian Bittersweet vines.

October and September are mowing months. Many of our fields are left fallow for spring and summer wildflowers and wildlife, but need to be mowed annually to prevent their being taken over by such quick-growing things as raspberry bushes and young conifers.

As for our fauna, the heavier, gray winter coats of our White-Tailed Deer are growing in well as are the darker winter coats of Red Squirrels. We still had well-camouflaged Garter Snakes and American Toads slithering and hopping among the fallen leaves in October, but they seemed to disappear into their winter hideaways before the end of the month.

On the waterfront, many of our lobstermen (male and female) were winding down their season in October — bringing in their traps for winter storage and working fewer days. The lobster season was a disappointment this year, especially compared to last year’s record prices and catches.

Recreational boats also continued to be stored in boatsheds for the winter or wrapped in protective plastic during the month.

Of course, October may be best known for its last evening, Halloween. Decorations for Halloween appeared very early in the month and the annual Brooklin Elementary School Halloween parade took place, as usual, on the last school day before the spooky eve.

Finally, October’s less humid, colder air and our shifting view of the sun brings the first of our colorful winter sunsets and their afterglows.

(All above images were taken in Brooklin, Blue Hill and North Sedgwick, Maine, during October 2022.)

In the Right Place, Bedding Category

White-Tailed Deer spend an astounding amount of time bedded down – about 70 percent of their lives, according to researchers. The two shown here were bedded in our North Field when I got within telephoto sight of them early one morning last week; one arose immediately, both were gone in seconds:

White-Tails often groom themselves in bed and relax there while their four stomachs are digesting what they have browsed. Unlike many other grazers and browsers, they don’t sleep standing. Typically, they lay down in a semi- or full curl, with legs folded next to or under them, ready to spring up and gallop at a moment’s notice.

The studies show that the deer get their energizing “sleep” by nodding off into a light doze for short periods, often only seconds. Sometimes, they sleep with eyes closed, sometimes with them open. Their ears and nose, however, always remain in the “on” mode, sensitively tuned to pick up anything unusual nearby.

I saw this doe bedded at dawn, asleep:

She suddenly arose, apparently sensing me, although I was hidden down-wind. She apparently never saw me, but abandoned her bed and walked away briskly, making me feel guilty for having disturbed her dreams. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 26 and 28, 2022.)

In the Right Place, Winter's Gifts Category

Here you see the afterglow from Friday’s sunset over Great Cove. The evening skies are starting to get more complex and colorful now as colder, less humid air moves in.

The most dramatic sunsets here occur in November through February, with the peak somewhere in the middle of that period. Why?

The explanation begins with the full rainbow of light waves that the sun always emits. At sunset, those rays are lower relative to us and, therefore, have to travel farther from our star through the atmosphere to light up what we see. For reasons we need not get into now, that longer distance apparently means that more blue and green light is filtered out before we see it. This means that we see things lighted by more red and orange light at sunset. But, there’s more.

Because the light is traveling farther at sunset, it is blocked  by more of the miniscule “aerosols” in the air. These are chemicals from various sources, including human-caused pollution, wind-whipped dust, and vegetation emissions. These impurities attract water (they’re “hydroscopic”), which swells them. Less water swelling due to less humidity means more room for non-scattered light to get through to us. But, there’s still more.

In the winter, especially here in the Northeast, a good portion of our air originates in the icy Arctic, which has cleaner air due to fewer trees, less dust, and scant, if any, industrial pollution. Fewer impurities mean more light. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 28, 2022.)

In the Right Place, Small Town Category

The Brooklin Elementary School Halloween parade wound its way along Bay Road from the school to the General Store yesterday with the usual protective firetrucks in front and back. The marchers scared no one, pleased all, and reminded cynics what old-fashioned community fun looks like.

The annual marchers include not only the students, but their teachers, school staff, some parents, and anyone else who feels like joining the costumed crowd. Nonetheless and as usual, the incredibly cute little tykes got most of the attention.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 28, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Pleasant, Vibrant, Exuberant

Here you see yesterday morning’s sunlight passing pleasantly through a stand of spruce and fir trees. The trees, their trunks wet to the touch, seem proud at having survived the night’s sheeting rain and turbulent winds; the soaked sphagnum moss at their feet, now fully quenched, gives thanks of the vibrant kind.

Our drought conditions have disappeared, at least temporarily. Yesterday’s U.S. Drought Monitor reports that Maine’s water levels are back to normal, except for a relatively tiny spot (0.15%) of abnormal dryness at the tip of our Southeast border, in the Kittery area:

Several days of torrential rains have replenished groundwater and given wooded brooks an exuberance that we’ve not seen and heard for quite some time:  

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 27, 2022.)

In the Right Place: A Blast from the Present

Wild Winterberry fruits here seem to be more bountiful this year than in decades. Some of our shrubbed roadsides look as if they are in the process of being blasted by a shotgun loaded with large red pellets.

Many of the Winterberry leaves have now fallen and, on rainy days such as yesterday, their beaming berries in the gray gloom can be jaw-dropping:

Winterberry (Ilex verticillata) is native to Maine and grows wild here in acidic soils, especially those that are damp or wet, such as roadside embankments and marsh edges.  The plant’s berries are among the last to be eaten by birds in the winter, apparently because they are less nutritious than the other foods that are consumed first.

However, the winterberry fruits are reported to be the ultimate survival foods for late-wintering American robins, bluebirds, brown thrashers, cardinals, catbirds, cedar waxwings, grosbeaks, and thrushes, among other birds. Mice and raccoons also reportedly have been seen gobbling the berries in winter.

For humans, it’s another story: The uncooked berries may be poisonous to some of us and our pets. However, with thorough cooking, winterberry fruit reportedly can make a good jelly or jam – but check the safety for yourself before you try it. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 26, 2022.) See also the image in the first Comment space.

In the Right Place: Invasions

It’s been foggy here for the past few mornings, hiding the fishing vessels in Naskeag Harbor and giving the woods a pleasing smokiness.

A good fog seems to create its own domineering dimension on the water, yet it has difficulty subjugating the piercing woods:

(Images taken on October 25 [dock] and 26 [woods], 2022.)

In the Right Place: The Name Game

On seeing this almost-hidden sight in the shadowy woods Sunday, I immediately said to myself “hairy female.” I then had the pleasure of wondering what people who don’t use weird birder shorthand would think if I were to suddenly murmur “hairy female” in their company.

This, of course, is a female hairy woodpecker. “Hairies” get their name from their longer, stiff feathers that run down their backs somewhat like a ponytail hairdo. Here’s a Leighton Archive image of the red-daubed male:

If that bird that I saw Sunday were about three inches shorter with a slightly less pronounced bill, I probably would have thought “downy female,” meaning a female downy woodpecker. “Downies” are almost identical miniatures of “hairies”; however, the “downies’” ponytails appear to be softer and more kempt than those on their larger cousins. (Images taken October 23, 2022 [female] and August 23, 2014 [male].)

In the Right Place: The Curse of the Loner

Here you see an American Red Squirrel growling at me Saturday after going through his entire repertoire of angry condemnations -- barking, hissing, rattling, screeching, and snorting, among others. (Sex assumed.)

I had entered his territory and was receiving the same cursing any invader would receive. In fact, if I had been another red squirrel or chipmunk, I probably also would have been chased and bitten, if caught.

Pound-for-pound, the territorial courage and antisocial behavior of these seven-ounce cuties probably is not exceeded by any other wild mammal. Except for mating and the raising of squirrel “kittens” by females, red squirrels are territorial loners of the most antisocial type.

Unfortunately, red squirrels sometimes also can be audacious: They sometimes decide to declare human territory as theirs. They enter homes and other structures, use insulation for nests, and sometimes chew electrical wires to the danger point. When this happens, humans (another extremely territorial and often-angry species) consider them as pests and kill them with the blessing of the government.

Maine and many other states offer online information on how to control red squirrels around homes and allow hunters to shoot the animals in the woods in any season and in any number. Maybe that’s why red squirrels curse us when we dare to enter their home territory. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 22, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Requiem for a Lily Pad

This lily pad is dying. It will be the slow death that all of its kind endure. The reflections of the trees and bushes that surround its pond seem to be reaching out sympathetically to help ease the way.

The pad has rolled over and is mostly under the water that it has sailed stoutly upon all summer. It soon will lose what little buoyancy it has and slowly sink to recycle itself into the murky bottom of its small world.

This lily pad is one of many that occupied the pond this summer, all now dying as dictated by their individual fate clocks. They are the highly-adapted leaves of our native fragrant water lilies (Nymphea odorata). The flowering lilies are all long-gone; soon, so will these pads. And then, during the winter, we’ll have trouble remembering the ponds’ summer flotillas of vibrant green lily pads and why they are so important.

Among other things, lily pads gather sunlight and perform the photosynthesis of it that is needed to feed the plant. They also provide shade and hiding places to shelter fish and invertebrates and help keep their pond temperatures from reaching a point where unwelcome growth would occur. One of their most visible attributes is providing hunting platforms for frogs and birds, especially red-winged blackbirds:

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 22, 2022 [pad] and June 22, 2018 [bird].)

In the Right Place: Dilemma Department

Here you see the pleasing lines of the Fishing Vessel Judith Ann as she was tied fast to the Town Dock in Naskeag Harbor yesterday:

Perhaps she needed some tender loving care. Perhaps, as with other lobster boats, she had brought in some of her lobster traps as part of an attempt to cut expenses during this difficult year for lobster fishermen. There was a trailer load of lobster traps nearby Judith Ann yesterday:

Part of the fishermen’s problem is having to adjust to the breathtaking drops in lobster prices paid to them this season compared to those paid last season. Last year, prices hit historic highs of about $8.00 per pound, according to industry reports. As of October 17 this year, the reported price was $4.00 per pound for the “shedders” now being trapped. (Shedders are lobsters that have shed their old shells to grow and are within new, softer shells.)

The average lobster price to Maine fishermen in 2018 was $4.05 per pound, which would be $4.78 when adjusted for today’s inflation, according to industry reports. And there is the big rub: While today’s lobster prices to fishermen are down, the fuel, bait, equipment, and other costs of fishing have increased. Moreover, lobster prices at retail and in restaurants remain high, thereby dampening the demand for this “luxury” food. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 21, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Good News

Fresh water is one of Maine’s most valuable natural resources and below you see – for the first time in a long time -- one of our ponds yesterday finally full of this precious asset. It’s evidence of very good news that was reported in yesterday’s U.S. Drought Monitor.

The Monitor reported that abnormal dryness in Maine was found only in 3.51% of the State and drought was nonexistent as of October 18, the end of the monitoring week:

That’s the best it’s been all of this year and much better than a year ago, when there was abnormal dryness in 35.24% of Maine, moderate drought in 15.50%, and severe drought in 6.56%, according to the Monitor. Stating this news another way: As of October 18, almost all (96.49%) of Maine was “normal,” as compared to only 64.76% of the State being normal a year ago. Nonetheless, as you can see on the map, there still are a few small areas of abnormal dryness.

These latest results reflect the monitored week’s significant rain during which New England experienced widespread 1- to 2-inch rainfall surpluses, with more than 4-inch surpluses in central and western Maine, according to the Monitor. (Photograph taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 20, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Found Art

If the late Jackson Pollock were put in charge of stowing mooring gear, he might create something like this abstract-expressionistic “masterpiece” at the WoodenBoat School:

However, instead of creative dripping, he’d have to do creative draping – and some very heavy lifting.

(Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 19, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Great Rides

Last night, we had another needed rainstorm accompanied by more unneeded high winds. Thus, our wooded brooks now flow stronger, and our fall-colored leaves have dropped faster.

Yet, many leaves remain green in their trees here. I wonder if this is unusual, perhaps the result of a warmer Autumn than usual. Here’s an image taken today of a maple that still has totally green leaves:

After a summer of dried-up streambeds, it’s especially pleasing to come again upon brooks that look and sound like brooks. And now there is the added attraction of watching the fallen leaves in them seemingly enjoying their last, great ride.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 18 and 19 [green maple], 2022.)

In the Right Place: Dishevelment

We had pounding rain and significant wind gusts last night and this morning. We need the rain, but could do without the wind. Many of the trees that were in full, colorful leaf last week are now showing their bones. Below you can compare two maple trees and a katsura tree as they were last Wednesday with their disheveled appearance this rainy morning:

Yet, we still have maples and other trees that remain full of green leaves. Perhaps we’ll be having a prolonged fall this year; perhaps a series of frosts or ice-rain will do these trees harm. I’ll conveniently blame the uncertainty on Climate Change, but I’ve seen this before. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 12 and 18, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Glamor

Sometimes in October, the wafting fog and misty breezes join forces over ponds to bejewel the dying and disappearing lily pads.

Perhaps we could think of it as providing some final glamor to the plain pads that served the interests of flowering beauty. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 15, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Fall Fog Phenomena

The fog is heavy early this Sunday morning, as it has been for most mornings in October so far. I can see only the nearest edge of our sloping North Field, where a crowd of Silver Grass appears to be straining to see Great Cove and its islands below the field.  

The woods are darkened by the fog; but, here and there, old maple trees create gold gateways into the dim spruce and balsam fir beyond. It’s an apparent invitation to enter a mysterious adventure, an invitation that I’ll accept soon.

Fog is a common fall phenomenon here on Maine’s Down East Coast. This type of fog apparently often forms when lower temperatures and breezes come ashore to meet air that is moisture-saturated or almost saturated. The process often starts on an Autumn night. If the air’s moisture stays the same and the temperature drops and continues to cool, ultimately that moisture will be released as “radiation fog,” a type of fog caused by the radiated cooling. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 15, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Beauty Is the Beast

Here you see a huge Burning Bush shrub (Euonymous alatus), a native of Asia that was introduced into the United States in the mid-19th Century. The plant became extraordinarily popular in New England, where it also is known as Winged Spindle due to the shape of its stemmed leaves.

However, in the 1970s, concerned regulators documented significant problems caused by the shrubs, especially untended plants. Left alone, the shrubs would invade natural areas and kill native plants.

The result of the widespread findings was that Burning Bush was determined to be an extremely invasive species and its importation was banned by Maine, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and Vermont, among other states, according to the reports.

Nonetheless, preexisting plants here remain popular among many gardeners and landscape designers, especially for use as colorful privacy hedges. Here’s another bush on the same property as the one shown above:

As you see, the bushes are at the edge of a major highway, blocking residential views from – and of – traffic.(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 12, 2022.)

In the Right Place: Cycle of Life

It’s raining and the wind is gusting as I write. Yellow and red and brown leaves are fleeing swaying trees. Their colors are being weaved and reweaved by the wind into complex ground carpets. Yet, this is only the beginning of the end; the leaves on most trees remain green and likely won’t color up until next week.

The images here were taken yesterday before the rain, but after the plush carpets had already begun to form this week along wooded trails.

These layers of leaves play a necessary and important role in the preservation and protection of our flora and fauna. They’re homes for amphibians and hosts of macroinvertebrates that are both sources of food for birds and agents of the leaves’ decomposition. Soon, in a cycle of life, the soil will absorb nutrients from the leaves that will help feed their mother trees and other flora.  

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on October 13, 2022.)

In the Right Place: American Spirit Burns Bright in Pumpkins

This image of a pumpkin appears today in my monthly column in the Ellsworth American.

To read the column, which has some interesting facts about what is being done with this native fruit, click here: http://www.5backroad.com/montly-column