Maine...further down the road

Over the last two to three weeks, spring and sunshine have decided to make a more consistent appearance here. I've been kayaking once so far on Lower Togus Pond and have walked around Jamie's Pond Wildlife Management area and Vaughan Woods, known locally as Hobbit Land. I had never seen a loon until 2 years ago when I went to Acadia for the first time, and, in a week, I saw 3. One entertained me for quite awhile on Jamie's Pond. Watching him (?) dive and trying to guess where he would surface was fun; I was usually way off. Vaughan Woods was wonderful because the stream flows over a number of very small falls, and the sound was glorious. Lower Togus Pond is notable for the islands throughout and the wide swaths of lilies. Although someone had told me that I might see eagles, the only avian life form was a cormorant. The quiet was impressive. It had a presence unto itself, one that I was grateful for. I pulled my boat into a tiny inlet thick with brush and saw sparrows just a few feet from the boat and could watch one singing.

In Jamie's Pond the other wildlife I saw that I enjoyed watching was a snake, garter I believe. I startled it, but when I stopped, it did as well. Snakes have never been that interesting to me, but this time I decided to watch for a bit. It bobbed its head occasionally as if testing the air - vibrations?

One bird I had not seen until recently was a great blue heron. I finally saw one on the banks of the Kennebec, standing in the shallows among the grasses. Mostly it waded. Was it, like me, just out for some fresh air or to see what it might see? I can be surprised or thrilled to see some form of wildlife - does the heron experience that same thrill? Or do any animals?

Mother's Day 2011

Spring has been inconsistent so far this year and when I saw the sun out this morning, I decided to indulge myself and go for a hike. Fortunately Mt Pisgah is quite close, even if it isn't quite tall. For the first hike of the season it was fine. The views from part way up the fire tower are incredible, considering I was only about 800 feet up. I wish I had taken my compass so I would have known which direction I was looking. On a clear day Washington is visible; I probably saw a lot of the western mountains in Maine, maybe Sugarloaf. And lakes, too! A few darker clouds blew through. On the way back down I stopped a couple times just to look at the blue sky through the birch branches, listen to an occasional bird, and feel the breeze, particularly as it flowed between my fingers. I know Maine is the pine tree state, but I'm surprised at how many birches I see, and the degree of grizzledness of the bark varies so much from one tree to another. Now I am wondering why and what causes that. It is so good to discover nature that is new to me.

more of Maine

Something I had forgotten from my days in Vermont - spring comes a bit more slowly up North. There are still patches of snow around, and some are not insignificant. A couple trails on the grounds of where I work are still under water, but that didn't stop me from checking out one after work last week. I am always fascinated by water and the beaver dam trail skirts a rapid and good-sized stream. While I was watching the water glistening in the late day sun, I noticed a vee approaching me. I had to remind myself not to jump to conclusions, but this time I was right. It was a beaver, and a pretty large one at that. In nature I love being unnoticed. I watched it swim to the farther shore, climb out and take a few nibbles on a log before it slipped into the stream. Maybe if I saw this every day, it would be less magical, but for now, it's always special. It's my own private show because no one else was around. I went back this afternoon with my camera this time, but he must have been at home. Odds are I'll see him again and maybe you'll see him, too.

A new place

It has been too long since I last wrote. On various levels I am in a new place. I am now in a new state (Maine) with a new job (yeah!!!), and, psychologically, I am happier. For a long time I suspected that living in a suburban community and working in a city was not the best fit for me, but it had been too long since I had lived in a less crowded place to really feel it. For too many years my workdays were regulated by train schedules. Tonight after work I went for a 3.5 mile walk on the local rail trail along the Kennebec River; yesterday I visited the local arboretum. So far my spotting of wildlife has been limited to a couple of turkeys and a few deer, but I'm looking forward to more adventures. People are friendlier and so ready to talk. It's a culture shock and I have to mentally pinch myself after every encounter. It feels like a new life.

Audubon walk

Yesterday, the day after a snowfall, clear skies, low 30s was a fine day to be out. I rarely have a plan about which trail I'll follow - they all can hold some treasure, but the woman in the office told me people had spotted a barred owl. There was a family trip and I got there just in time to hear a little girl say, "I SEE IT!" My enthusiasm was only a little quieter. I had never seen an owl in the wild. To be able to watch it slowly turn its head one way and another was a gift.

I like to observe tracks and imagine the story behind them. Most tracks were filled in yesterday, but I did see some deer. Some hopping creatures had been out as well. Another day or so and I'll go back to see if anything new has appeared.

The usual assortment of chickadees and nuthatches were busy. At this sanctuary, they are used to feeding out of people's hands and one of them briefly landed on my hat as I walked along. A chickadee once perched on the end of my lens as I was trying to photograph a cardinal. Very cheeky. The sensation of having a bird cling to my fingers is like nothing else I have ever experienced.

sorry for the silence

Somehow the fall slipped by before I noticed. Well, I noticed the leaves and such, but before I got around to commenting. I had a glorious experience recently at the Ipswich River Audubon sanctuary. The day was gray and overcast, dampish. The fun began as soon as I stepped onto a trail that runs along the edge of a meadow. The bare bushes were thick with chickadees, tree sparrows and juncoes. With the leaves off, their movements through the tick mass of tangled branches was easy to spot. I ambled to the observation tower and, climbing to the middle level, put up a hooded merganser. Although this day I didn't have my camera, I did have the "bins" along and waited for the little guy/girl to settle on the water to get a better look. I enjoy watching the "V" widening behind swimming birds on a quiet pond. Much farther along I stopped on a trail bordered by swamp on either side. A downy woodpecker was busily rat-a-tat-tatting on a dead branch about 5 feet from me while 2 muskrats played in the water on the other side. I even watched while on of them washed her face. They never knew I was there. While I stood for several minutes just being there, more chickadees swooped around me, followed by juncoes again. The beat of their wings was the loudest sound. I was awed to be surrounded by wildlife so oblivious to my presence. It was amazing in a quiet way. It was very close to the intersection of 2 trails. I had been on the other trail this summer one day, about 7 feet from the other when all of a sudden a deer flew by me. I do not know who was more surprised. I heard its companion, just down the trail, snorting. Trying to demonstrate the sound made me conclude that deer don't have allergies; I had to keep wiping my face! This sanctuary is very popular and a lot of people pass through. Even with that there are so often these magical moments. It's a rare day that I don't experience something that resets me.

Cross-country trip

As I write, I am in the Phoenix airport, having spent the last 2 days in Santa Barbara. This evening I will be in Seattle and finally head home on Wednesday. Interviews. I was invited out to Santa Barbara and, employing a bit chutzpah, offered to fly myself to Seattle before knowing whether they wanted me to go out.

I remember when pilots used to announce what we were flying over, but apparently that's not done anymore. I really wish they did that because I wanted to know what rivers I saw undulating below me and which mountains had thrust themselves up out of what desert. I'm pretty sure I saw the Mississippi. At first I thought it was too narrow, but when I compared it to roads, knew it was pretty broad. Especially when I was 'way west, I was very interested to see how different the mountains are from the ones in New England. And the vegetation, or lack of it. Today, leaving Santa Barbara, we flew south over the ocean and turned inland probably around Los Angeles. The desert was impressive. I lived in southern New Mexico and have been to Israel. Israel had been the most barren land I had ever seen until today. The sand leading to the mountains gave the impression of fog, something not solid.

Other than palm trees, Santa Barbara had a lot of eucalyptus trees. They look as though they are always bare of bark. The most surprising things I saw in SB were pelicans and seals. The seals were less than 75 ft from shore in the inner part of a harbor. I have seen them in New England, but this time there were 3 or 4, and they played. A young man was wading out to get closer to them. I smiled when I first realized what I was seeing, then felt a pang of sadness. A friend had told me about seeing seals practically next to her house and thinking of her reminded me of her partner's very recent death. Twenty years of doing my part to try to help researchers defeat cancer had not helped.