In the Right Place: In the Shop, VII

The power boat being constructed in Brooklin Boat Yard’s main shop is progressing nicely, as you see. She’s a BBY 47’ Express Cruiser designed by Will Sturdy that apparently is unnamed as of now. It looks like she’ll be finished this spring or early summer at the latest. Here’s BBY’s illustration of the expected finished vessel:

Some of her details found on the BBY website: “[W]e decided on a hull with a length of 47’ and beam of 14’ at the sheer. Generous hull flare and moderate overhang forward yields a bottom with a waterline aspect ratio of 3.7. Highly engineered wood-composite construction keeps weight low despite high safety factors on all scantlings and a full cruising outfit. “

“A single 850hp MAN i6 will give her a top speed in the low 30s and an efficient cruise in the mid to upper 20s. The propeller is tucked up into a carefully sculpted tunnel that reduces draft and maximizes propulsive efficiency. *** Typically, the owners will cruise just the two of them, but do like to entertain larger groups for day trips. We decided … that a second cabin would be a poor use of space. The result is a spacious arrangement that will be as comfortable for the two of them as for a dinner party of six. “

DYLAN, the 47+ Eggemogin racing sailboat that we’ve been following, has progressed to the BBY paint shop as of yesterday, whe she was being sanded:

(Photograph taken in Brooklin, Maine, on May 4, 2026.)

In the Right Place: Ozzie & Harriet, II

There was literally high drama at the osprey nest last week. Harriet was waiting calmly for Ozzie to return with lunch and I thought I saw him appear high on the horizon. But, Harriet didn’t utter her usual welcoming chirps as that osprey approached, She became agitated.

The incoming osprey apparently was one of our rogue bachelor males looking to take over prime coastal real estate by home invasion. Let’s call him Putin. (See the images here and in the Comment space.) Soon, Putin started a long, increasingly fast dive at the nest, while Harriet screamed bloody murder.

He strafed, Harriet ducked, and his talons missed her by about six inches as she screamed and snapped viciously at him. He didn’t try a second swoop and was gone by the time that Ozzie arrived a minute or so later.

This is serious. Last year, Ozzie and another Putin had several fights over the nest that resulted in Ozzie being wounded, Putin losing at least his tail and maybe his life, and Harriet leaving the nest for parts unknown before laying any eggs.

There always has been osprey fratricide by rogue males. But recently, there also has been a reported increase in bald eagles invading and taking over osprey nests along the Maine coast.  This is becoming concerning. Among raptors, there is no golden rule and they can be almost as stupid as humans when it comes to attacking their fellow-species.  (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on May 1, 2026.)

In the Right Place: Fear and Loathing

It occurs to me that getting to know more about common garter snakes might be a good way to treat snake phobias. This fellow shown here is the Eastern subspecies; there also is a Maritime subspecies in Maine, which is darker and often lacks that yellow stripe.

Garter snakes are bright-eyed; seem to have a slight smile on their faces; aren’t harmful to humans and can help get rid of nasty things in the garden. They’re also fun to watch when they disappear amazingly fast by repeatedly coiling into an S and uncoiling. (One report says garter snakes have been clocked at 4 miles-per-hour.) But, of course, just that slithering can give some people the creeps.

Reportedly, at its most extreme, snake fear develops into ophidiophobia, an irrational and harmful condition that can cause panic attacks at the mere thought of a snake.  Others, perhaps a majority of western hemisphere people, just have an inexplicable aversion to snakes. (And maybe to spiders, but that’s a slightly different story.)

The research suggests that many humans fear snakes due to a combination of evolved survival instincts, cultural conditioning and the snakes’ non-mammalian habits, including slithering and rearing up and striking at those the snake, itself, fears.

Our earliest ancestors apparently learned the hard way that some snakes could be deadly and that it often was difficult to distinguish between the killing kind and the kindly ones. Practicality dictated that it was safest to avoid all of them in those days (unless you were starving).

This avoidance response allegedly created a fear instinct that may have become virtually “hard-wired” in many primate descendants. As societies developed, religious and cultural portrayals of snakes as embodiments of evil, danger and damnation reinforced the aversion.

But, take another look at this amazing fellow who was slithering out of fear as fast as he could to get away from me. Do you really think he’s destined to harm us or be the devil’s messenger?

I don’t suggest that you try to pick up the next garter snake you stumble over. (If you did, you’d likely get harmlessly bitten and smeared with an awful-smelling musk discharge.) My thought is maybe you could try not to worry about yourself when you see one. You and that snake have far more important things to worry about.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on May 1, 2026; sex assumed.)

In the Right Place: Far-Flung Sightings

Above, you see last night’s full moon rising behind a spruce ridge. Bdelow, you’ll see it riding high above Great Cove. This May full moon is known traditionally as the Flower Moon, a name used by the Algonquin people because it rises when early blooms are appearing.

European colonists here reportedly also called it the Milk Moon and Mother’s Moon because it rises when the cows were taken to summer pastures, which was also the time of spring fertility.

This 2026 May moon is special for two reasons. First, it’s a micromoon (or “apogee moon”) because it is at its farthest distance from Earth (almost 250,000 miles). Second, it’s part of an uncommon double-ender as far as full moons go: There will be a second May full (“blue”) moon on May 31. (Images taken from Brooklin, Maine, on May 1, 2026.)

April Postcards From Down East Maine

April of 2026 here on the Down East Coast of Maine started off by chilling us with below-average temperatures, which we didn’t need. It ended by showering us with above-average precipitation, which we did need. In between, there was the slow, sometimes dreary, sometimes beautiful, always interesting overture to spring.

As usual, we begin these Postcards with the four iconic scenes that we monitor for local records — the view from Brooklin of Mount Desert Island; the view of the summer house on Harbor Island in Brooklin; the long view of Conary Cove in Blue Hill, and two views of the near-mountain called Blue Hill:

April’s only snow was a sprinkle during its first week that powdered the fields and disappeared after the sun came riding onto the scene. The April woods, although a bit dry at times, remained easy to roam all month.

The ice disappeared from the ponds in April and river otters came to play in them, while the first painted turtles rose from their muddy sleeping quarters on the pond bottoms to bask when the sun shone:

During the month, vernal (spring) pools appeared in the bogs where skunk cabbage spathes rose like painted dolphins and unseen amphibians covorted at night:

Our streams managed to keep good waterflows most of April, but the month is in the middle of glass eel (baby American eel) season. The mouths of the streams often were draped with Fyke nets trying to catch the little migrating eels:

With a few exceptions, the April flora wrere mostly in the formative stages, including pussy willow catkins and sproutings of all kinds.

There were the usual early showoffs, including forsythia, daffodills; andromeda; bluets; Japanese coltsfoot, and Siberian squill:

When it comes to flora, April is not just about the outdoors. It’s a time when tropical house plants also bud and bloom in Maine, including this magnificent hibiscus:

But, of course, for many of us, Down East Maine in April is mostly about the outdoors, especially the sea coast. Here you see Great Cove before the summer’s sailboats arrive. All was calm during the month, except for the occasional fishing vessel that took a fast shortcut through the Cove.

The tops of rockweed bouquets start to appear in Great Coveat about mid-tide. At low tide, this algae becomes a jungle that hides sea life (which can become sea food for some). Common whelk sea snails are sometimes among the tidal pool fauna; their shells are valued by human beachcombers and their bodies are valued by sea gulls.

There are much bigger fauna in the trees overlooking Great Cove. I monitor an osprey nest there every year and its feathered owners always have returned in April. Below, you’ll see the male (Ozzie) bringing a fish to the female (Harriet) in the middle of a significant rain storm. Below that image, you’ll see Harriet reigning supreme in her big nest on a sunny day.

A great blue heron, another returning migrant, regularly waded in Great Cove at low tide and hunted in the nearby marshes during April. He’s a creature of many guises:

We also have a pair of nesting mallard ducks that arrived in the Cove during April; we hope to see ducklings there in May,

There are too many other spring birds in our coastal area to show here. But I must show one more: This American Robin was singing his little heart out most of the month, hoping for a spring romance.

Before we say fairwell to the fauna, I should report that our white-tailed deer were still in their fully-insulated winter coats during April and even took naps during April showers.

WoodenBoat School’s pier on Great Cove doesn’t get its docking float attached until May or June. But the mooring gear for the renowned school’s fleet of small boats seems to be eager to get back into the Cove.

Just north of Great Cove, the Brooklin Boat Yard’s pier in Center Harbor had its docking floats installed in early April. The renowned Yard is busy all year, but in April it starts taking large and small boats out of winter storage there and returning them to where they belong.

Inside its shops, however, is where the BBY earns its world-wide reputation for expert and imaginative navel archetecture and craftsmanship. Things were busy there in April:

Just south of Great Cove, a few local fishing boats were undergoing rest and repair this A[pril after a tough scalloping season; they have to get ready for summer lobstering. Who said all lobster boats look alike?

Up the peninsular a few miles, there’s a reversing falls with raging white water that attracts courageous mariners in special kayaks and attire. They test themselves in the numbingly cold April waters even during rain showers. And, sometimes the kayaker wins; sometimes the water does. But there never has been a fatality there.

Let’s end with our eyes to the sky. Although it might not be appropriate to create a Postcard from Maine about the Artemis II trip around the moon this April, I can’t help myself. It was such a wonderful, prideful event, that I edited one of the Orian crew’s official images of Earth to show (approximately) where I was while the multi-day trip was happening:

National Aeronautical Space Agency image that was rotated and annotated for this illustration.

Nonetheless, we did see the April moon in several phases by looking up from Maine. The full moon was cloudy here this year. It’s called the Flower Full Moon because it rises when pink flox appears in many places (but not here yet).

Well, folks, we’re having a wonderful time and wish you were here!

(All images in this post were taken during April of 2026; all were taken from Down East Maine except for the indicated NASA image.)

In the Right Place: In the Shop, VI

DYLAN, in the foreground here, is coming into being nicely in the Brooklin Boat Yard’s main shop. By summer, she’ll be an exquisite Eggemoggin 47+ (overall length 47’6”), the latest and most advanced racing sailboat in that BBY-designed class. A plan of the basic E-47+ is shown below. Note the apparent “foils” (hydrofoils) instead of a keel to generate lift and decrease drag.

Her type is named after Eggemoggin Reach, the renowned sailing water that runs by Center Harbor, where BBY is located. The Boat Yard has been sliding its winter- stored boats into the Harbor recently, providing a welcome sight of sleek boats swinging with the tides. (Photograph taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 27, 2026.)

In the Right Place: Getting Lost

This lovely, but annoying, image of that miracle called Earth was taken during the flight of the Orion spacecraft earlier this month. It drives me crazy to look at it because the southern Atlantic and South Pole are on top; the Northern Atlantic, North Pole and Venus on bottom; Africa is on the left, and South America on the right. I get disoriented looking at it.

My problem is that I suffer from a northern hemisphere bias of what a geographic representation should look like. I’ve been raised with the myth that there’s a physical, geographic up, down, right and left with a corresponding north, south, east and west. These concepts were invented eons ago for 2-dimensional thinking and communicating. They don’t apply in the 3-dimensional vastness of “outer space” that can be without enough gravity to keep a good man or woman “down.”

The literature indicates that the concept of east-west likely developed thousands of years ago through observations of the sun rising and setting. The north-south concept apparently developed later from observing the path of the sun at midday and the rotation of stars around the object now called the “North Star.” All of this was before the invention of the magnetic compass, which doesn’t point to “True North,” anyway. In fact, for a while, some cultures reportedly drew their maps with the east or south on top.

Nonetheless, my confusion due to this official (“upside-down”) National Aeronautics and Space Administration image was easily rectified by copying the image, rotating it 180° and labeling locations for posterity:

(The unedited NASA image was taken through a window of Orion on April 3, 2026, during its translunar injection burn.)

In the Right Place: In the Shop, V

The 18-foot runabout being built in the Brooklin Boat Yard’s auxiliary shop is coming along nicely. Her interior is being inlaid carefully with fine woods and we’re beginning to get a sense of how special she’ll be.

By summer, this Muscongus Bay 18 designed by Mark Fitzgerald will be a speedy, center-consoled runabout with T-top and comfortable perimeter seating. Here’s another look at her plans:

Note that spring weather allows this “BBY shop on the hill” (aka “Odd Fellows’ Hall shop”) to open side doors, which creates a lovely working atmosphere.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 27, 2026.)

In the Right Place: Spring Gentleness

Here’s a bejeweled daffodil and her blue squill admirers with their petals down, thoroughly enjoying a recent gentle shower here.. The scene symbolizes the recent improvements in Maine’s drought situation, although we still have a way to go to get back to normal:

The weekly USDM narrative report for the Northeast included these comments: “Rainfall occurred but was largely confined to northern areas, from western Pennsylvania and New York through northern Vermont and New Hampshire into Maine, where many locations recorded 150% or more of normal precipitation. This wetter pattern led to improvements in abnormally dry and moderate drought conditions across northern Vermont, New Hampshire, and Maine. Severe drought was removed in northern and reduced in southern Maine.”

(Photos taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 23, 2026.)

In the Right Place: Ozzie & Harriet, I

Yes, it’s time for the Ozzie and Harriet show again. Ozzie returned to their nest at least by April 17, when I first saw him. This year, he didn’t have to wait long for Harriet. I saw them together in the nest on April 20. We’ll be following this osprey family until they (and hopefully their offspring) migrate back to a southern state or beyond in the fall.

The images here are from yesterday, which started off sunny when I saw Harriet alone on the nest, as you see in this first image. It was gray and drizzly by the time Ozzie brought lunch home. Note that Ozzie is up to his old tricks: He eats the heads off the fish before giving the rest to his mate. (The brains of fish may be their most nutritious parts.)

Their nest is almost 100 feet above Great Cove in a topless spruce. Unfortunately, the surrounding branches are encroaching on it and restricting my view. It’s difficult to get clear shots of them together. (I shoot from a car window at a considerable distance to avoid making the birds nervous.)

Nonetheless, I can see that the usual fish hawk antics have resumed. Harriet spends most of her time on the nest. She often engages in loud “begging,” issuing the characteristic, high-pitched female osprey pleas for attention and food. Ozzie spends most of his time elsewhere.

But, at least once a day, Ozzie flies in with a scaly meal, which Harriet often tears apart with gusto. They’ll often copulate once or twice before and/or after mealtime. Ozzie will return several times a day, apparently just to copulate. He’ll also return immediately if Harriet issues an alarm call due to such things as being threatened by a bachelor osprey or a bald eagle. They both defend the nest ferociously, seemingly without regard for their own safety.

Ospreys work hard at propagating the species. Copulation to assure fertilization will occur many times a day with increasing frequency until egg-laying time in late April or early May. (One report zealously noted 338 copulations by a pair before egg-laying.) Ozzie and Harriet have not been shirking their duty in that regard, but I don’t tally their efforts.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 24, 2026.)

In the Right Place: Body Language

There’s an ancient principal of American and English law called habeas corpus (Latin for “you have the body”), but we don’t need to get into any legal weeds now. It’s just that the name of that principle popped into my mind in an odd way while enjoying a much longer view of this sight of Conary Cove on a recent spring morning:

That is, we have a body here in this enlarged image, as you may have noticed. I didn’t see it with unaided eyes, until after Barbara said, “Did you see something move in those rocks there?” Something unusual had moved and a long lens revealed it to be – a hand! Unbeknownst to us, someone apparently was sunbathing within a crevice of the nicely-warmed-up granite ledges.

Not a bad way to take a break on a spring day, especially if you’re a good day-dreamer. Here’s a different look at the Cove’s old boathouse:

(Images taken in Blue Hill, Maine, on April 18 and 20, 2026.)

In the Right Place: Plunging Necklines

Since early April, we’ve had two great blue herons wading in our waters and mousing in our marshes. They’ve inspired me to do a little research into the unique adaptations that have evolved in these prehistoric-looking birds. I’ll share what I’ve learned about two of these adaptations here.

The first is the great blue’s long, serpentine neck, which is specialized for hunting, defending and feeding itself. Its modified, longer vertebrae double back on themselves, allowing it to coil and strike like a snake – but faster, with greater force and with a long, spearhead-like beak that can be plunged into the water. (Or plunged elsewhere: I’ve seen a great blue drive off a bald eagle by repeatedly spearing the slower National Bird in the face and chest while fighting over a dead fish on the shore.)

In the middle of the GBH’s neck, the esophagus and trachea bend behind the spine,. This protects the bird’s windpipes during the ingestion of a whole, live fish and other large, resisting prey. Unlike geese, swans and other birds with large necks, great blues can tuck their heads back into their shoulders when flying and improve their aerodynamics.

Where the great blue’s neck joins its chest, it wears a necklace of wispy down feathers that are called pectoral plumes or powder down feathers. This adaptation is not only decorative, but also highly useful to ameliorate the results of the bird’s habit of getting blood, fish oil and pond sediment on its face and chest.

The tips of these specialized feathers fray into a cleansing dust that has a consistency similar to talcum power. Sometimes the heron just cleans its head and neck by rubbing them in the powder down. More often, it uses a specialized comb-like claw on its middle toe to collect the powder and comb it through needy areas.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine on April 17 [marsh] and 21 [water], 2026.)

In the Right Place: Now You See It; Now You Don’t

What a difference a day makes. Above is the near-mountain called Blue Hill, as viewed across the bay called Blue Hill Bay. Below is the same perspective from the day before:

Spring is magic. (Images taken in Blue Hill, Maine, on April 19 [fog] and 20 [sun], 2026.)

In the Right Place: Watching Paint Dry

This good-looking painted turtle is the first of the year in our ponds. He’s been rising to bask on sunny days since at least April 12, when I first spotted him.

He’s got exceptionally vibrant yellow and red stripes and daubs “painted” on his head, neck and shell. These are signs of a healthy diet and a healthy turtle. Potential mates will notice that he’s a good catch from a good place to hang out.

The literature reports that the painted turtle’s diet includes aquatic insects, fish, crustaceans (crayfish), snails, worms, algae, and leafy plants. Young turtles apparently are mostly carnivorous, but they become more herbivorous as they get older. Curiously, PTs have to eat in water. They have virtually fixed tongues and can’t produce saliva; they need water to act as a lubricant to get their food “down.” They swim with their mouths open at the surface or below to catch prey and floating vegetation, then use the water to help ingest their catch.

PTs are Maine’s most common and most colorful turtle, and they live 30-40 years. In the winter, they brumate (lie very dormant) in the muck at the bottom of ponds and lakes, and they’re one of the few turtles adapted to tolerate freezing temperatures for extended periods. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 18, 2026; sex assumed.)

In the Right Place: Spring Fling

Yesterday was a miserable, rainy, chilly, dark day. It also apparently was dangerous for one adventuresome woman and hair-raising to watch her. It started with me pulling over to watch a flotilla of colorful kayaks at the Reversing Falls in Blue Hil. They were trying to catch the waves in the outgoing white water of Salt Pond. The turbulence seemed meaner than usual in the rain.

Here you see the beginning of a courageous run by that woman:

She soon pitched deeply and this led to a roll that capsized and overturned her long, thin kayak completely.

She stayed under water for what seemed an eternity, but finally got out of her spray skirt, popped up and signalled that she was all right..

The American Whitewater Accident Database and Maine boating records don’t report any fatalities to kayakers in the Reversing Falls. However, these Falls are considered to be dangerous, especially in April when the raging, winter-cooled water averages around 39° to 41° (F).

Maine officials proclaim even still water below 55°to be very dangerous for those immersed in it because it can cause hypothermia. Spring kayakers are urged to wear cold water immersion gear as well as reliable flotation devices. This brave kayaker apparently wore both. Thank goodness. (Images taken in Blue Hill, Maine, on April 19, 2026.)

In the Right Place: Down East Chic

I don’t know why, but when I walked into this place again recently and liked the way I felt in it, I wondered how I would feel in the newly designed Oval Office in the White House, the People’s House.

I guess I’m not one of those people who would be comfortable in a room that looks like the lobby of a Florida golf club; and has full-length, shiny gold drapes with gold silk tie-backs; and gold-gilded wall appliques that make me hungry for scrambled eggs, and many big portraits of gruff males, and only one of a female. That one would be of the portrait of the attractive Jacqueline Kennedy, whose Presidential husband’s attractive countenance is nowhere to be found there.

Yes, you’re looking at an image of the inside of the old small boat shed at the Brooklin Boat Yard. It’s a nice, quiet place to do some wondering.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 12, 2026.)

In the Right Place: Good Luck, B&B

In response to many questions: I’ve not seen Bernie & Benice Beaver or any activity that could be associated with them (more trees down, dam leaks tended, lodge construction resumed, etc.) in three weeks. They apparently have moved on. I don’t know why. Perhaps it’s because they claim-jumped part of the territory of our alpha coyote, who would love to snack on the kits B&B plan to have this spring. Safe travels, my friends.

(Leighton Archive image of Bernie eating an appetizer.)

In the Right Place: Molly & Mike

Meet Molly & Mike Mallard, who appear to be scouting our corner of Great Cove for nesting real-estate. I’ve seen them together in that area since winter. They’re clearly paired and float and fly everywhere together.

Mallards in Maine usually nest from early May through August. Females lay eggs in hidden, ground-level or elevated locations near water, often returning to the same nesting area annually. When the female starts to incubate eggs, the male typically leaves. The ducklings can walk and swim immediately after hatching. (Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 14 and 15, 2026.)

In the Right Place: A Great Cove

Here you see a spring tide lowering in Brooklin’s Great Cove earlier this week. There was little wind bothering her, so the Cove had time to work on her reflections. As the water receded, she revealed blooms of her swaying rockweed, which soon became tangled mats hiding crabs and snails that waited patiently for the tide to come back. It always has.  

The Cove’s changing personality is perhaps her most remarkable feature. Every day, her two tides rise and fall about 9 to 12 feet, covering her completely and then exposing her mysterious tidal pools and pungent mud. Then, there’s the disappearance act that she can do in fog.

In the winter and early spring, there’s a beautiful vastness to the Cove, when her cold waters seem vacant, except perhaps for a few dabbling ducks and swooping gulls. In the summer and fall, Great Cove is a carnival for those of us who are addicted to the pleasures of “being on the water.”

Summer in the Cove, when she’s at her most frenetic, is worth a few word pictures: colorful small and large sailboats seeking the same winds; singing passengers on tall-masted windjammers helping to lower and raise big anchors and huge sails; luxurious or just strange power boats that contribute the husky background sounds of their engines; lobster boats churning up big bow waves as they take shortcuts through the islands; water-bugging skiffs, kayaks and paddleboards and, on occasion, a seaplane landing so its passengers can watch the finish of a regatta.

(Images taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 14, 2026, and August 6, 2023.)

In the Right Place: In the Shop, IV

Progress is being made on this fine-lined little vessel being built in the Brooklin Boat Yard’s auxiliary shop. By summer, she’ll be a speedy, center-consoled runabout with T-top, comfortable perimeter seating, and fine woods:

She’s described as a Muscongus Bay 18 (18-foot overall length) designed by Mark Fitzgerald.  He’s a prominent naval architect who operates Fitzgerald Marine Architecture, Inc., in Camden, Maine. Muscongus means “fishing place” in the Abenaki Tribe’s language and was the name of one of their villages at a bay on the Maine coast. That Bay, now also named Muscongus, is known for its boat-related activities.

(Photos taken in Brooklin, Maine, on April 15, 2026.)