|
Editor's Column
Robin's Thoughts and Rambles I went down to the pond to feed the fish and think about what I might write about this week. I'm home alone so it's quiet, or, it's as quiet as it can be with three large rough-housing dogs. When they finished their play they came to the pond to get drinks. The farmcollies went back to work but the big goofy mutt, Sebastian, stayed at the pond with me. Seb likes to hunt. His favorite prey are mice, moles and voles. This summer he discovered frogs. At first it was ok. He'd walk the edges of the pond and was happy to make the frogs jump into the pond. A few weeks ago I caught him with a frog in his mouth. That's not ok! I'm protective of the creatures living in the pond. Kids have to be gentle, dogs don't get to use them as squeeky toys, - you know, the normal stuff. "Sebastian! Drop it! No Frogs!" Tonight he walked around the pond scaring frogs in and looking very pleased with himself. I threw a handful of food into the pond and watched the rainbow trout and bait fish eating at the surface. A few handfuls later I realized that not all of the splashing was coming from the trout jumping. Sebastian was chasing a frog. "No frogs! NOOOO FROGS!" He stopped, stepped back a little and sat down. Seb has this "poor me, life's not fair" sad look when he's unhappy. I got the look. Tough. No frogs. After sulking for a minute he noticed the trout. If he's paid them any real attention before I didn't notice. He tipped his head back and forth as they rolled at the surface. One of the trout is full grown and close to two feet long. When he splashed in front of Seb it was more than the dog could stand. He went from sitting to swimming in a flash. I know Seb swims with the ducks but the trout? I had my first run-in with poison ivy last weekend. We stopped to pick blackberries on the side of the road and I didn't see it. I was fortunate. When I kneeled on it only a couple of inches of bare skin on my ankle made contact with the ivy. I made it through 40something years without poison ivy. I hope it's another 40something before it happens again. Steve didn't see the warning sign on the bank of the St. Croix when we were at Little Falls in Vanceboro Sunday afternoon. He walked into the river to wash as much of the oil off his skin as possible. Our rashes were short lived. We washed with real soap containing mint essential oil. It eases the itching and helps clear up the rash. I'm going to add a bar of this soap to my road kit in case this happens again. Have a good week! Sincerely, Robin Follette Editor/Publisher |
Maine Nature NewsAugust 19, 2008
Vol. 13, No. 30
 Harbor Seals lazing about last Sunday on Foster's
Rock near Sequin Island, Phippsburg (Map 6) RR
 Friday, August 15 Georgetown (Map 7) Spent a good part of the day at Reid State Park. While walking along Mile beach there was a group of Sanderlings darting back and forth in the surf as it washed its way up the beach. Farther along there was a lone Piping Plover. This was the bird that I was hoping to see as they are on the endangered species list in a number of states. The next day while at Crescent Beach in Cape Elizabeth (Map 3) there were more Sanderlings and close to a dozen Piping Plovers here and there along the beach. SY Monday, August 18 Lisbon Falls (Map 6)
Over the past few days some of the maple trees in the area have started to show a little bit of their fall colors. SY  This juvenile Ruby Throated hummingbird is perched under cover out of the torrential rains in Phippsburg. It is sticking out its tongue probably to snag a gnat. Hummingbirds eat insects to increase their protein intake. Undigested insect parts can be seen in the feces of hummingbirds. The yellow on its back is probably pollen which sticks to the birds when they visit flowers. This little hummer was quite wet and so the pollen was sort of smeared around on it. RR Saturday, August 16 Phippsburg (Map 6)    'The American Lady butterfly, seen here on a Buddleia or 'Butterfly Bush,' was previously know as Hunter's Butterfly. It ranges from Nova Scotia to Mexico. This beautiful butterfly was originally given its name by the English aristocracy to honor an American of note in the early 1800s, John Dunn Hunter. John Dunn Hunter, born c. 1798, claimed to
have been kidnapped, then raised from infancy by Native Americans of the plains.
He said he had been given the name "The Hunter" by the Native Americans for his
skill at hunting. He said he never knew who his true parents were, so 'John
Dunn' was the name he later chose for himself after that of a man who had been
kind to him. With his proceeds from beaver trapping he funded his education and
then wrote several books about his experiences with the Kickapoo, Kansas and
Osage Indians. John Dunn Hunter eventually travelled to England where he became
a darling of the nobility for his colorful background and interesting stories of
life with the native Americans. He further ingratiated himself by gathering
natural history artifacts, such as butterflies, from the United States to add to
the collections of the English. It was eventually determined that his stories
were fabricated when a Frenchman who was studying the idioms of the Native
Americans discovered that John Dunn Hunter spoke none of the languages of those
peoples with whom he had claimed to have spent his life! 'Outted' as one of the
greatest conmen of his time, neither his former reputation, nor the name of the
fabulous butterfly stuck. Each would morph several times, as is the nature of
the butterfly, and the tendency of the creative human mind. ' RR
|
|
Q&A
Send your questions and answers in for next week's edition!
 Frogs have been really enjoying all the rain and the
pools it leaves behind for a few days. Does anyone know what kind of frogs these
are? They are small (at least, for now!), about 3 inches long. Robin Robinson |