In the Right Place: Nest Reports

June is the peak of bird nest activity here. Here are reports on two nests that I’m monitoring from a distance.

First, meet Wendy, the black-throated green warbler, via an enlarged image. Her cupped nest appears to be between 2 and 3 inches in diameter and she has decorated it with strips of white birch hung here and there. She snuggles down low in her nest with head and tail protruding up and appears to be incubating eggs.

Second, it’s been a frustrating 10 days for me at The Osprey Nest, the summer home of Ozzie and Harriet. Every now and then I’ve seen parts of Harriet’s back while she was lying low in the nest. Sometimes, I’ve just heard her calls from there. I think (and hope) that she is incubating eggs or brooding over chicks.

I can’t figure out Ozzie’s schedule for feeding her; I haven’t seen him for weeks. For those who are having trouble remembering him, here’s a Leighton Archive image of Ozzie at his finest:

(Primary image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on June 5, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Purity Plus

Wild water lily pads are rising and collecting into jostling crowds, seemingly  waiting for the parade of the plant’s own beautiful flowers, fragrant water lilies (Nymphaea odorata).

Only a few of those water lilies are in bloom now, looking like candle-offerings to Astraea, the goddess of purity. Soon there will be hundreds of such offerings.

Although stunning in appearance, our native water lilies perform critically important functions in ponds, lakes, and slow-moving streams. Among other things, they’re a source of nectar for many unusual pollinators, provide shade and shelter for fish and other freshwater denizens, and prevent or retard high water temperatures that would encourage smothering layers of gooey algae. (Images taken at the WoodenBoat School campus in Brooklin, Maine, on June 4, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Are There Wild Hot Dogs?

Here you see one of the wild mustard plants in our field at day’s last light, a time when they seemingly become incandescent.

Here’s a closer look at the plant’s flowers in the early morning light:

Wild mustards are controversial native plants. They can be seen as beautiful wildflowers / they can be seen as invasive weeds; they are loved by many pollinators (especially bees) / they are hated by some gardeners; they can be intriguing additions to the diet / they can make some people gag. And, the various species can drive me crazy trying to tell them apart.

The plant shown here, I think, is Rape or Field Mustard (Brassica rapa), although it just might be one of several other New England mustards based on some field guide descriptions. Rape reportedly is not only a quintessential mustard, it also is a “model organism” for biological research along with the fruit fly and house mouse. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on June 1 and 2, 2024.)

In the Right Place: “Joy to the World”

That great old song tells us that “Jeremiah was a bull frog.” Maybe so, but I’m here to tell you that Ezekiel, shown here, is NOT a bull frog. He’s a friend of mine who lives in our pond and happens to be a green frog.

The two species of frogs – greens and bulls – often are difficult to tell apart, unless you can get close to them and apply the little-known “dorsolateral folds” test. I’m about to reveal that test, which is less scientific than it sounds and won’t threaten the livelihoods of herpetologists who specialize in amphibians.

Those dorsolateral folds are ridges of skin that appear on both bull frogs and green frogs. The ridges extend behind the eyes and curve around the ear drums (the “tympanums”) of both species. However, they stop at the eardrums on the bulls, while their top lines/folds continue on the greens all the way to the green frogs’ butts. That is, the bulls only have something like inverted Nike Swooshes® around their eardrums; the greens have those Swooshes plus racing stripes along their bodies.

Of course, a bull frog also can be twice as large (up to 8 inches) as a green frog (up to 4 inches). But, it’s unlikely that the two will appear side-by-side for long before the bull eats the green. (Both these frogs will eat any live thing that they can get their mouth around.)

If you’re viewing a single frog and aren’t any better than I am at mental measurements, that size knowledge probably won’t help much. Besides, there are small bulls and large greens that can complicate computations. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on June 1, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Summer Squint

Naskeag Harbor was summer-bright during yesterday’s almost perfect day. The seasonal residence on Harbor Island is now partially obscured by new leaves on young trees and the hill that the house was built on is now June-green. If you closely observed (through squinted eyes) the two fishing vessels seemingly guarding the Island, you might have notices an example of marine seasonal change.

FV “Tarrfish,” in the foreground, has already had her winter scallop fishing (“dragging”) mast and boom removed in preparation for her summer lobstering. The other boat, FV “Captain Morgan” (I think), still has her mast and boom attached. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on June 1, 2024.

May Postcards From Maine

May was gentle here, which unfortunately wasn’t always the case elsewhere. She performed a brilliant opening act for Summer, leaving us eager for the rest of Maine’s most famous show. Part of May’s job is simply to freshen up everything, turning browns and grays to greens, bringing billowing clouds on sunny days, releasing the scent of balsam in the woods, and providing the warmth to do spring maintenance.

Our resident wildlife prospered during our winter, despite several vicious storms. Among the mammals, the deer and red squirrels were shedding their winter coats and the muskrats were exploring the ponds to build nests and lodges. (The one shown below had lost part of his tail, perhaps in a close call with a bobcat or coyote.)

Of course, May is the beginning of courting time of our resident wild turkeys, with the Toms flexing their feathers all over the place. Feathered summer tourists came early to nest, including Canada geese, ospreys, robins, greater yellowlegs sandpipers, and Eastern phoebes.

As usual, the Mallard ducks came up early and created families that were learning to swim in May. Warblers continually swept through during May, including a black-throated green warbler that was barely visible nesting in a spruce and a magnolia warbler that appeared to be looking to rent a summer place.

Finally for fauna, the painted turtles rose from the depths of their winter tombs in May and the early dragonflies, including Eastern amberwings, began to flit and whir over our ponds.

On the working waterfront, May is the time to take down the booms and masts of winter scallop fishing and to get the lobster traps in shape for the summer. Specialized vessels roam the waters returning floats to piers and setting heavy moorings in place, while the lobster boats are made ready.

On the recreational waterfront here, May is when the WoodenBoat School alumni return for two weeks to spruce up their renowned alma mater for the classes that begin during the first week of June. The class rooms are readied for boatbuilding and other marine-oriented classes, the sailboat mooring gear is cleaned, and the School’s fleet of small boats is returned to Great Cove, where other sail boats have started to appear. The alumni work hard and enjoy it.

As for flora, May is known as the bringer of flowers. But it’s also when you can see how fast spruce and balsam trees grow and how larch (tamarack) trees regain their needles that were shed in the fall. Of course, May also is pink and white apple tree blossom time, red maple tree leaf time, and white horse chestnut tree pyramid time..

We’re far from done here, flora-wise: May is when the vibrantly green leaves of mountain ash (rowan) trees spiral out and the red leaves and white blossoms of shadblow trees mingle; when plum tree blossoms and buds create purple galaxies, and when yellow magnolia tree and white star magnolia blossoms reach for the sky.

Wait! There’s even more around the houses. May is when forsythia bushes form yellow tidal waves, lilac bushes erupt in bursts of white and purple, crabapple trees become bundles of buds and flowers, rhododendron bushes try to upstage everything, and daffodils are everywhere.

Not done yet! Back on the wild side, May is when star flowers begin to appear in the darker woods with bunchberry ground covering. In the sunny fields, the blues are played: bluets, Eastern blue-eyed grass, wild blue flag iris, and wild blue lupines with their starburst leaves. Of course, we dare not forget the mighty yellow dandelion, many of which have turned to seed pappi in May.

In the bogs and ponds, skunk cabbages are well on their way to becoming immense in May; lily pads are rising, and arrow arum is starting to form its green arrow heads. We could go on and on with the May flora, but we’ve done more than enough, don’t you think?

Finally, we end with May’s full moon. It will not surprise you to hear that it is known as the Flower Moon. This May it rose through a fog which soon lifted so that we could see this very old friend’s craggy features.

(All images in this post were taken in Blue Hill and Brooklin, Maine, during May 2024.)

In the Right Place: May Musing

It’s the last day of May, a month that was mostly gentle and kind to us, but wild and cruel elsewhere. For some unknown reason, I especially remember the May moment shown here:

The sun suddenly disappeared, the wind was still, and the pond water turned polished black. It was then that the boulders briefly became rising moons, the cattails turned into raised spears, and the pond’s primeval life stirred in the sudden chill.

Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on May 13, 2024.

In the Right Place: The Cute Season

Mallard ducklings usually are among the earliest waterfowl to hatch and start being cute around here. At first, I didn’t see this proud mom and her fluffy sextuplets yesterday among the reflections in a local pond. But (of course) the youngsters can’t sit still the way Mom can.

When she knew that I had seen her family, she calmly guided them to the other end of the pond, where they disappeared completely among the cattails.

Mallards are the most numerous and most heavily hunted ducks in the country, according to Vickory (“Birds of Maine”). However, although native to America, they’re not native to Maine. Vickory reports that they were raised by state wildlife officials and introduced for hunting here beginning in 1940. They liked what they saw and prospered despite the presumptuous invitation. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on May 29, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Home Town Girl

All is well: “Martha” is back in Great Cove. She’s one of the local legends and good luck charms that just HAS to be moored in the Cove so that we know that at least part of the summer will be right. She comes with a rich history and an interesting lesson about sailing terminology.

Martha was built here in 1967 by the famed Brooklin naval architect Joel White for his even more famous father, the New York- and Brooklin-based author E.B. White (“Charlotte’s Web,” etc.). She was named after Joel’s daughter, the granddaughter of E.B. (who was known by many around here as “Andy”). That’s the very short version of the history.

The short lesson has to do with the type of boat that Martha is. She’s reported as a sloop-rigged Crocker pocket cruiser that is almost 20 feet long overall (19’ 9”). A “cruiser” is built to sail on multi-day trips; that is, it’s not just a “daysailer.” Among other things, cruisers usually have at least one berth to sleep in, a stove to cook on, and a head (toilet) to sit on. 

But Martha is a “pocket” cruiser. That is, she has all of the above attributes, but she’s miniaturized, which requires extraordinarily well-designed accommodations. The “pocket” designation derives from the practice of applying that term to objects that have been miniaturized to carry (e.g., “pocketknives”). When applied to the miniaturization of large vessels, the term can seem extreme (e.g., the World War II “pocket battleships”). 

There’s more: Martha is a Crocker pocket cruiser. That is, she was inspired by the designs of naval architect Samuel Sturgis Crocker, who specialized in small and stout cutters with sharply sweeping bows. (Take another look at Martha’s magnificent bow.)

After E.B.’s death, Martha was sold by the White family to Rich Hilsinger, the former Director of the WoodenBoat School here. He promised to keep her in Brooklin where she belongs. Here’s a Leighton Archive image of Rich sailing Martha:

(Primary image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on May 26, 2024.)

In the Right Place: The Tale of the Missing Tail

Here’s a rarity: a bob-tailed muskrat. The sight provoked memories of ghastly stories about muskrats gnawing off their own legs or tails that have been caught in traps and tales of coyotes or bobcats catching muskrats by the tail, swinging them around, and ending up with just a wriggling appendage as prey.

The muskrat’s tail is part of the reason it has such a nasty name. It’s also an aid to its identification in the wild. It’s virtually hairless and proportionally very long like the tail of a brown (Norway) rat, which makes muskrats easy to differentiate from flat-tailed beavers. But it’s an important part of the muskrat’s life.

Normally, the muskrat’s tail is almost half the length of the rodent (e.g., about 9 inches on a 10- or 11-inch body). It’s “laterally flattened” (deeper than wider), which allows for its use as a combination sculling oar and rudder. The appendage often is swished back and forth when the muskrat is swimming to aid power, balance, and maneuverability.

The tail on this little fellow just bobbed in the air, back and forth stiffly, while it swam in a pollen-flecked pond checking out potential nest sites. (Image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on May 25, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Obligation

Here you see part of the last journey of Lt. Col. Donald Green, USMC, Ret., in Arlington National Cemetery. That was almost 10 years ago, but it remains vivid for me. Don was a friend and colleague whom I think about often, especially on Memorial Day.

Technically, today is the day to honor those who died while serving in the Armed Forces of the United States. For many of us, however, it’s also another opportunity to honor those who are now serving or have so served, even though Veterans Day in November is set aside to do that.

It seems to be an old-fashioned thing, this honoring of someone who died while performing what used to be considered a service to our country. Such service was once considered a moral obligation – a “duty” – for men. It’s not required anymore, and that’s probably a good thing.

But, I sometimes worry about the consequences of diluting or abandoning some traditional senses of obligation – to country; to spouses or other personal partners; to children; to those in need; to political constituents; to abiding by the Constitution; to simply telling the truth…. My fear is that, if and when any of these once-recognized senses of obligation is fully discarded, its void will be filled with cynicism, selfishness, and/or autocracy. History tells us that can be the beginning of the end of a society.

Nonetheless, I feel no embarrassment in being old-fashioned and giving our military a snapping salute today. (Full disclosure: I’m a veteran who mostly enjoyed my service and benefitted greatly from its lessons on teamwork and diversity.)

In the Right Place: The Old Magicians

It’s apple blossom time here in our little town on the coast of Maine. It’s an event that involves hundreds of old, gray, gnarly, lichen-scabbed trees that mostly have been “let go” to live wild and bend under their burdens.

They apparently conspire when we’re not watching and then – now – do a magic trick: They collectively turn into soft mounds of vibrant green leaves, clustered pink buds, and delicate white flowers that are eager to offer their yellow centers to ecstatic bees.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on May 24, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Changing for the Better

Sometimes important changes look like they’ve been in place forever because they’re so right. I think that’s the case with the projection into Naskeag Harbor that you see below alongside the Town Dock at high tide yesterday.

It’s a tie-up float that was installed this week. Our fishermen (and others) finally will have a suitable place to park the small boats that they use to get to and from their vessels moored in the Harbor. Here it is at low tide yesterday:

On the other hand, some important changes look like they’ve destroyed the present, which sometimes needs destruction. I think that’s the case with our Town’s massive efforts to remove big trees that have taken over road shoulders and otherwise have been encroaching on our roads:

Recent vicious storms have been toppling too many of these trees onto the roads and bringing down power and wi-fi lines. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on May 24 and 15, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Celestial Blossom

The May full moon rose here out of our southwestern ocean horizon yesterday evening. It was a cloudy and foggy evening at first, as you see here.

But it cleared up by the time that the craggy old moon was lighting up Great Cove. (See the image in the first Comment space.) The moon’s ascendance last night was complete with an extended performance by our coyote tabernacle choir that kept us awake.

The May full moon usually is called the “Flower Moon,” which reportedly is a Colonial translation of what our Native Algonquin Americans called it. It’s an apt name. Around here buds are bursting into blossoms everywhere, especially in the old apple trees. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on May 23-24, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Form and Function

I’m proud to say that a young beauty made eyes at me yesterday, as you can see:

She also made ears and a nose at me and even gave me a come-on Mona Lisa smile:, but don’t tell my wife about this:

Of course, the senses of white-tailed deer are made for more important stuff than attracting admiring old men. The deer are major prey and they have major sensual organs to help even the odds. Form very much follows function in these deer, according to research that I’ve read, some of which is summarized here.

The pupils in white-tail deer eyes are, proportionately, 10 times larger than human pupils and can help provide extraordinary sight in low light. The eyes are angled so that the deer have a 310-degree field of vision, compared to our 180-degree field.

The ears also are proportionately enormous and can be rotated independently and almost 180 degrees. They’ll often move around in different directions like two radar disks while the deer’s head and body are still.

A white-tail’s nose (“olfactory bulb”) follows the same pattern. It’s about four times larger than the average human nose and can have up to 297 million scent receptors compared to our 5 million and dogs’ average pf 220 million. The deers’ sense of smell is estimated to be nearly one-third better than that of wild and domestic canines. Both deer and canines have moist snouts to catch the tiniest of scent molecules and dissolve them for receptor cell analysis.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on May 23, 2024.)

In the Right Place: One-of-a-Kind

The WoodenBoat School is alive with the sound of staff and alumni – cleaning, fixing, and – finally – putting boats back into Great Cove. The alumni will be volunteering through June 1. Classes are scheduled to begin June 2 – boatbuilding, sailing, marine diesel mechanics, seascape painting and photography, and much more is taught at this one-of-a-kind summer school.

Above, you see preparations this week at the boatshed and near the shore. Below, you’ll see one of the School’s fleet of small boats being put back where she belongs yesterday:

It looks like another unique summer is going to happen. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on May 20 and 21, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Angles

Sometimes in the woods we see something and think, “That can’t be right!” (Maybe we see an apparent yellow flower growing in a distant young spruce tree.) Then we look again, closely and from a different angle, and understand that it is right. (Maybe we step to the side, look through a long lens, and see an eye looking back at us.)

This eye belongs to a female black-throated green warbler who is building a nest only about three feet from the ground and about 1½ inches in diameter. It’s wedged in the crotch of a limb and the slim trunk of the spruce. She went about her business while I kept my distance.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on May 19, 2024.)

In the Right Place: New Leaves

The appearance of new leaves that are full of spring’s vital juices has for centuries been an inspiration for appreciating life. The pristine beauty and freshness of new leaves also can be dazzling. Here are the leaves of a red maple tree erupting into colorful life:

Below, you’ll see the gymnastic new leaves on a just-grown branch of an American mountain ash (aka rowan) tree:

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on May 12 and 18, 2024.)

In the Right Place: Familiar Change

It’s time to publish the May view of the iconic Conary Cove boathouse for the record. Here you see this landmark in the mysterious light of a May morning that can’t decide what kind of a day she wants to be.

The boathouse was damaged slightly during one of this year’s vicious winter storms and has been repaired, but not repainted yet, as you can see.

The scene simply cannot be ignored by any passerby who is not eye-dead. To many of us, it’s one of those familiar, but paradoxically ever-changing, sights that just makes you feel a little better while on your way to someplace else. (Image taken in Blue Hill, Maine, on May 16, 2024.)

In the Right Place: O’ Nest Report VI

It’s been another week of tedious waiting and infrequent sightings at the Osprey Nest, the summer home of Ozzie and Harriet, a local osprey couple. This image is the most of Harriet that I saw all week; she’s been lying very low and moving very little. I suspect that she’s incubating the family eggs, which will hatch in June.

At least I had a good opportunity to study this summer home. It’s a fortress built decades ago and added to each subsequent year. It was constructed in the space left by a blown-out top of a 100-foot spruce on the shore of Great Cove.

I saw NOTHING of Ozzie all week. That’s zero sightings of our hero. Zilch. Nowt a feather! I can’t figure out his schedule for delivering fish to Harriet.  I went to the nest at least once a day and at different times this week: no sign of our able fisherman coming home with a fat fish that’s still flipping.

But, here’s one of my archive images of Ozzie doing his duty as a reminder:

Note that ospreys almost always point the fish’s head forward when flying with it because it is aerodynamically efficient and easier to get a secure grip that way. (Primary image taken in Brooklin, Maine, on May 17, 2024.)