Last Call - Geese Going

Since I was a little kid, I've had a one sided love affair with Canada geese. I know a lot of people who hate them because they are prolific poop machines. They quickly foul up small ponds and shore fronts and turn golf courses into land mine fields. Each goose lays a breakfast-link size roll of dark green doo amounting to one to three pounds a day. The droppings carry bacteria harmful to humans, so keep your hands out of your mouth. Additionally, the droppings are very slippery. Stepping on it can result in a broken ankle and you know where you'd be falling if that happened. Things would no doubt, go from bad to worse. Populations of the Canadas are growing enormously, too. They are protected under the 1918 Migratory Bird Treaty Act (MBTA), so it's a felony to kill them. If they take a shine to your golf course, you're cooked, not your goose. All you can do is drive your golf cart around and scream and yell. Keep in mind when you do that, that when geese are alarmed, guess what? They poop. Many flocks of them no longer hede the urge to migrate, either. Here in Totman Cove resides a flock that now is about fifty strong, nearly double that of a year ago. There is open water here all winter, so they stay. I still think of them as harbingers of spring, though. I listen, as my father taught me to do when I was young, for their calls and think, "Ah, spring at last!" There is still magic in hearing them far above me, often in spring fog which seems to hold their sound. And in the fall, I feel sad when I see the skiens  rippling across the sky headed south. A V-ribbon undulating away in advance of snow makes me hunch my head into the neck of my jacket and shiver, even if it's not yet cold. These geese weren't flying out of town, though. They were just headed to the local golf course.

Seal Of Approval

Harbor seals are common in Maine. I saw this one on our last boating day. It was in the New Meadows River, which isn't a river at all. The New Meadows is a tidal tributary. I have no idea why it was named as a river. There is seaweed all the way to the northern most reaches, seals, horseshoe crabs and jelly fish, to name but a few of the ocean dwellers. So, no one would ever have confused it with a river. For about eighteen years I lived on the northern end, so I would know. I did see a beaver in the water there  one spring. I would not have thought I'd ever see a beaver in salt water, but I did. It was playing with a cat on the bank. The beaver had a bunch of sticks in the water from which it had stripped the bark. The bare wood was pale in the dark water and the beaver was flipping it  around as it worked off the bark. The cat seemed to think it had tied into the biggest rodent it had ever seen. Several times, it crept to the water's edge and batted at the beaver, then jumped back. The game ended when the beaver circled around in the water so that its tail was toward the cat, which was hunkered down in the mud as if about to pounce. The beaver slapped its tail on the water and doused the cat which took off, humiliated, no doubt. I've never seen a cat try to play with a seal. I'm waiting. I haven't kept count, but it seems to me I've seen more seals this year than ever before. I saw a Gray seal in our cove two days ago, which is highly unusual. They come from up north and aren't usually around here, certainly not in our warm cove. Harbor seals are still seen easily at the mouth of the Kennebec at Popham and generally, they are all but gone at this time of year. This seal has wiskers any cat would admire.

Last Call - Final Boat Day

Our last boating day of the season was Saturday, with our dear friends on their boat. I decided quite a few years ago that much as I love boating, it's best done on other people's boats. Most people who own boats here are either waiting for a good day to go boating or complaining because that day hasn't arrived in Maine. If the weather doesn't get them, the repairs do. Something is always broken on a boat and going to cost a 'boat-load' of money. The talk is often of what the monstrous costs were or anguishing that a particular thing is going to fail momentarily and what that will cost. Just hope you aren't on board when whatever breaks down, because it is guaranteed to be an astronomically expensive nightmare. Next to medical equipment, if the word 'marine' is attached to anything, it will break the bank. The only other thing close to those two things is photography equipment. There is also a lot of hype around getting ready to go out on a boat. There is rushing around to meet tides and anxiety about slipping and falling and need to wear correct footwear. Most of us take enough food and clothing to outfit twenty people for a single afternoon of boating in Maine. Prepare for all contingencies is our motto. Remember what was said about the Minnow, Gilligan's barque of the three hour tour! How many years did that show run? Our friends get more use out of their boat than anyone else I've ever known, though. They even take their dog, a Scottish terrier. He is a good boat dog meaning that he doesn't complain and doesn't expect much for a head. That means toilet in boat talk. Don't ask me why. He also willingly wears a life jacket with a handle, so he can be hoisted on and off the boat like a six pack of beer. We love to go boating with our pals. We are always sad when the season is over. These are some of the photographs I took on our last outing.

Double Crested Cormorants                                                                                                              

This sail boat might be good for anybody's blood pressure. Photo taken in 'The Basin' on the New Meadows River

Merlin Magic

I was zooming northward on Rt. 209 in Phippsburg, all the while scanning the utility lines for hawks. I often see them on the wires running along the road by Center Pond and Dromore Bay. When I saw this Merlin, I did a U-ie. Of course, my camera was on the passenger's seat and turned on, ready to rock and roll as usual. I was able to get out of the car, leaving the door open and the motor running, slip around the back of the vehicle using it as camo. and get this shot. The wind took the car door and slammed it shut which sent the little falcon zooming up 209, too. The minute I heard the door shut, I thought "Uh oh............" If the door locked, this could be really bad. I might have used up my luck when the ill thought out U-ie didn't get me killed. But, oh! It was a trifecta of good fortune: no car accident, the door didn't lock and the photos came out great! Maine has three falcons that are seen commonly, the Merlin, the Peregrine and the American Kestrel. Gyrfalcons are seen here, but they are a very rare visitor. No birder would jump into their car to see my Merlin, but they sure would if I had photographed a Gyrfalcon. Merlins eat insects and other birds which they capture on a level sprint in mid air. Though they are small (under 10"), they are all that one would imagine in a falcon without the the Arabian shiek

Snow Is Here!

I had you going there for a minute, didn't I? No snow yet, but it's getting cold at night. Doesn't it look like this Snowy Egret is dancing on the water? I took these three days ago on Atkins Bay on the mud flats. It's just a gorgeous, gorgeous bird, even if it is called 'snowy.' BBbbbbrrrrrrrrrr

I Broke My Vow

Have you ever said  "I swear I'll never.............(you fill in the blank)" only to one day find yourself doing that very thing? Not me. Not ever. Okay. That was a lie. I swore to myself and declared my oath to others that I would never  post a photograph of myself. When I made this declaration, I had already posted photos of my children, my cat and two dogs and my husband. Though not exposed, he was naked in some of the photos and he was eating all kinds of raw sea food glop. Thankfully for all, he wasn't naked and eating guts at the same time. Had he been, I would have taken a photo and probably posted it. That's the kind of person I am; I'm willing to exploit just about anyone for my own personal gains. Or so it seems. Interestingly, readers have asked for the photos of my family and of my dogs, as well. They have, however, never asked for photos of me. You might say "Well, that's because most of them know what you look like." True enough. But those same readers also know what the other members of my family look like, especially my husband, though they know him in a fully dressed state. I wasn't asked to show him in a semi-clothed state, but that's the kind of girl I am. I never take just a bite of something. I eat the whole thing. I began to think of this as kind of a cat and mouse game. How long would it take for someone to ask me to post a photo of myself? What would I do; what photo could I use? The simple answer to that is 'none.' I have never seen a photo of myself I liked or  could even stomach. I always study the photos of authors on book jackets and marvel at how great they look. I think, "Geez, they must be great writers or they are just beautiful people or both." Even those depicted as academics at least look smart. So, the writing has got to be either really good or the author has just got to look really good. Bad content can pass for a while if the writer looks good. I'm doomed as neither of those things apply to me. Even my icon on Facebook and other sites is either the ubiquetous, computer assigned, profile head-in-a-box or a sunflower, which I picked (a photo I took). But, I can't hold out any longer waiting for someone to ask me. I've found the perfect photograph of myself, one I love, my book jacket photo of the future. And now, it's out there: I'm really, secretly Dame Edna.

No Lesser Lesser Yellowlegs

There are two types of Yellowlegs, Lesser and Greater. "How do you tell the difference," you ask? Obviously, one is 'greater' or bigger than the other. So, you sort of have to see them side by side to know which is which, right? Not so. The Lesser Yellowlegs has legs slightly longer in proportion to its total body than the Greater, though the Greater is taller. This gives the Lesser a more graceful overall form, which makes it, in the grace department, greater. Don't you just love birding? I have just enough birding experience to make really big identification mistakes. So, I could be wrong about which bird this is in the photos. I'm going partly on what birder's call the gestault or gut take on it. I once knew a wonderful man, Ed Gamble. Long ago, I was the weekend baby-sitter for his children. He was a fantastic carver of birds, especially Maine coast shore birds. His license plate said "Yellowlegs." Every time I see Yellowlegs, Greater or Lesser, I think of Ed Gamble. Each of the Yellowlegs share the same feeding behavior. In the second photo you can see that the bird has its bill in the water. They swoosh the open bill back and forth, close it, gulp, and do it again. They get so carried away with this that they jump around and chase prey across the mud. They act like chickens with their head cut off! I took these photos at Atkins Bay. It is a small, enclosed bay across from Fort Popham in Phippsburg that is actually part of the end of the Kennebec River, though it's thought of as ocean. It drains almost completely when the tide goes out. I go there regularly to see shore birds feeding like these Yellowlegs. It is a small birding paradise. Almost everyone who goes to Popham heads for the beach or the fort. Few bother with the Atkins Bay clam flats. Look what they have missed!