Horse Hair Worm
This horsehair worm was in a puddle on a dirt road. Also known as gordian worms, the horsehair worm is a parasite to insects, arthropods, and other invertebrate animals in its immature state. As adults, they don’t require a host. They’re harmless to humans. They can grow up to 14″ long, though this worm was only 4″.
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What’s Eating The Pumpkins?
Last fall’s cornstalks, pumpkins and squash were loaded into the tractor’s bucket and hauled off to the edge of the woods. I’ve been waiting to see what might grow this summer. Yesterday afternoon I discovered this 2.5″ hole through the snow, into the pile. Something has been enjoying the pumpkins, probably the seeds. I suspect it’s a red squirrel. There are no tracks in the snow today. I’ll go back after the next snow fall to look again.
Ice Fishing on East Musquash, Topsfield (Map 45)
It was windy but it looked like a nice day to ice fish. There are only two shacks on East Musquash Lake today.
It looked like a good morning to be out on the ice.
Robin’s Journal – Outdoors
A blogger challenged readers to choose their word for 2012. I’ve had this entry floating around in my mind for a few days and since it fit with her challenge, and I don’t want it to float away, now’s a good time to write.
My word for 2012 is Outdoors. I spent so much time outdoors without a choice to stay in when it was hot, cold, wet or thick with black flies as a market farmer that I stopped enjoying being outside. Being outdoors meant work most of the time. That changed a bit in 2011 as I stepped back from market farming and into full-time writing. Being an outdoors and agriculture writer gives me ample opportunity to make being outdoors more fun in the coming year.
This year I will:
Spend more time fishing. I’m going to learn how to fly fish and take up fishing for brookies.
- Sleep in a tent without being eaten by a bear. Hopefully no moose get the idea to stomp on me while I’m out there. “Camping” has always been in a camp with solid walls and doors. I’m not a fan of tents but I’m going to learn to be ok in them. I might even buy one.
Kayak more. I took a kayaking class at BOW last summer. Joanna, my instructor, was awesome. She gets 100% of the credit for my love of kayaking. When I’m out there I hear her saying “feet to seat” and remember proper paddling.
- Hunt. I hunted a lot in 2011 and will at least match the amount of time in 2012. Maybe I’ll get something in 2012…
- White water raft the West Branch of the Penobscot River. The Crib Works scares me but I’m doing it.
- Zipline. I’m a member of the board of directors at Becoming an Outdoors Woman. Part of my responsibility involves going to Camp Caribou a day early to help set up. Last summer, during my kayak lesson, I watched a 60′ish year old woman (I am 47) zipline from a platform 60 feet high into the pond as part of a ropes course. She laughed all the way! I used to be terrified of heights. I’ve spent a lot of energy working on that; now I’m mildly uncomfortable. I’m going to do it if someone is there to lead me.
- Plant more flowers.
- Plant Christmas trees. I’ve ordered a dozen Colorado Blue Spruce and I’ll transplant balsam fir from our woodlot.
- Plant fruit trees. I’ll probably have to replace the apricot trees I planted last spring. I’ll do that and add pears and/or plums.
- Prune the apple trees this winter.
- Maybe I’ll climb Mt Katahdin. I said I’d never do it. I’ve been to Chimney Pond. One look at Knife’s Edge from Chimney Pond was enough for me to know I wasn’t going further. At the time I was terrified of heights. And I had a bad knee but it’s healing now. Kirk kept telling me I had to see the view from the top…so I flew over Katahdin in a chartered plane. Maybe this year I’ll climb. Maybe.
- Take more photos. Taylor (my youngest daughter) and I are going to paint the 15′ x 30′ livingroom. I have a lot of wall space to fill. Rather than rehanging the pictures I’ve taken down I’ll replace them with our outdoor photography.
- Spend time in my tree stand while writing about the outdoors. Tree stands aren’t just for hunting.
- Hike. I’ll spend more time hiking in 2012.
What will you be doing outdoors in 2012?
Mourning Dove
A mourning dove (Zenaida macroura) resting in a balsam fir.
Robin’s Journal – Upta Camp for Thanksgiving
Mother Nature could have put a damper in our Thanksgiving plans with a snow storm the day before Thanksgiving. Parts of the state were blanketed under close to a foot of fresh now. Upper Sysladobsis (Upper Dobsis, pronounced dob-see) in Lakeville (Map 35) had only 6″. We put the trucks in four wheel drive and hit the road. Routes 1 and 6 weren’t as well tended as the winding, dirt camp road.
The ride in was beautiful. Coyote tracks crossed the road in two places.
We drove through tunnels of snowy trees. Folks who live at the lake year round plowed the road. It’s primitive, no electricity other than generators, no phones except cells with iffy reception, no oil-burning furnaces, only wood stoves and propane heaters for year.
We cross the bridge over Brown Brook on the way in. The beavers made a half-hearted attempt at building a dam years ago.
An ermine visited the deck before we arrived.
This is not the view of the front deck we’re accustomed to. There weren’t any ice-cold drinks served out there.
The old wood cookstove helped warm the camp and cook part of our Thanksgiving dinner.
The back door is used to record stories of hunting season. Uncle Bobby shot a big buck, the boys did the dishes in record time, Brush got his deer and more.
We had turkey, stuffing, cornbread dressing, rutabaga, winter squash, mashed potatoes, gravy and pies. Food was the minor part of Thanksgiving. Being together with family at our family camp was most important. We could have had PB&J for dinner and been perfectly happy.
Deer and Coyote Tracks – Molunkus (Map 44)
A coyote followed a deer for several miles sometime between November 23 and 25. The track on the left is coyote. On the right, a deer track beneath a coyote track. 
Talmadge (Map 45)
At sunset yesterday, November 9, I listened to tree frogs. I don’t remember ever hearing them in November. It was 55* at the time. My rhubarb has come out of dormancy and is growing. King Bolete mushrooms are growing again. It feels more like spring than mid autumn. RF
Molunkus Flooding (Map 44)
Updated for September 10, 2011.
High wind and heavy rain rearranged the scenery in Molunkus recently. I photographed the stream on August 15.
And again on September 7. This is the same place in the stream.
The water level was dropping on September 8. I didn’t have my camera with me. The water is not usually this high until ice breakup in the spring.
September 10. The water depth is dropping slowly.
Robin’s Journal – From the Observation Stand
Finally, time to sit quietly and go through my notes of the third day at Molunkus Stream Camps.
Monday, August 16, 2011
Molunkus (Map 44)
We didn’t want to leave camp and avoided talking about it. After another leisurely morning sipping coffee on the porch steps, watching ducks in the stream, we headed out to explore again. More mushrooms, flowers, caterpillars and oops, poison ivy. “What’s that saying about poison ivy,” I asked.
“Leaves of three, stay away from me,” she replied.
“Crap.” I was up to my knees in it. I backed out. Back at camp later, I peeled them off, inside out and put them into a plastic bag. One poison ivy rash in my life was enough.
Do you know the name of this flower?
“Let’s have your big lunch later, pack up and go to the stand. We can leave to go home from there.” Tammy made fried chicken, new potatoes and fried okra for lunch. Delicious! It didn’t take long to pack the Jeep, clean camp and leave.
The first hour in the observation stand was quiet, then Tammy spotted a large, dark-colored doe walking into the left side of the field. She grazed way to the apple tree. I couldn’t tell if she was eating apples or leaves. Healthy, large, beautifully colored and moving with grace and ease through tall grasses to get get to a patch of clover; she was perfect. She must have heard one of us move. Her head snapped up and she started into the eight foot long window of the observation deck. We froze. She knew we were there.
We waited, not moving. She watched. We waited. She watched. She wasn’t relaxing and we didn’t want to scare her away. And then the excitement began. A noise drew her attention from us to something we couldn’t see. There was something past the doe, at the edge of the field or maybe still in the trees. We were able to step closer to the window to watch. To our right, a moose grunted. “Did you hear that noise,” I asked Tammy. She did. “That’s a moose.”
Where to watch? The doe, still frozen and staring at something, or to the right where I moose might step into the clearing. A branched cracked under the moose’s feet. It was walking parallel to the clearing, still far enough into the trees that we couldn’t see it. Our attention went back to the doe. The doe was too far away for our cameras; we hoped the moose would step out long enough for photos.
When deer are angry they “blow.” The doe blew once, stomping a front foot at the same time. A light-colored, large doe stepped into sight. Ahhhh. She’s the problem. The first doe blew again. A stare-off lasted a few minutes. Did one or the other blink? Something happened. They charged each other, rearing up on hind legs, still running. I thought they were going to bang heads. As I flinched at We the thought of banging heads, both turned slightly and hooves started flying. We could hear hooves clashing together. Clash clash clash clash clash. It ended quickly and both does were on four feet again. A great horned owl called from our right, followed by the whoosh whoosh whoosh of its wings as it took flight. It was very close but the observation blind blocked the view above our heads.
The lighter doe disappeared from sight, followed by the darker doe. Directly to our left, something large, probably the moose, stepped on another branch. A sharp crashing sound made the doe blow again. Before the excitement was over, she blew a total of nine times. We didn’t see them again but followed them by sound up the slope and into the woods. It was getting dark. Time to go home and wait impatiently for our next adventure in the Maine woods.
Determined Herring Gull, Eastport (Map 37)
The mackerel are running in Eastport and lots of folks are fishing. So is this juvenile herring gull.
We watched fishermen cast their lines, reel in, sometimes with a line filled with four mackerel but usually empty. Cast, reel. Cast, reel. A young couple at the end of the pier worked to figure out what they were doing. Cast after cast, they came up empty. I heard her tell someone it was their first time fishing for mackerel and they didn’t really know what they were doing. A gentleman walked over to help them. A few minutes later they were casting again.
“Look!” someone yelled. “That seagull’s chasing a fish!” We watched it chase and lose the fish several times.
And then the excitement began. “HEY! THAT’S MY FISH!” The young woman at the end of the pier had something on her line. I thought she was excited about finally catching her fish. She was excited but it was because the gull was also catching her fish.
She leaned back hard and fast, pulling the string of mackerel away from the gull.
It caught up while she reeled in the slack line.
When it had its fish, it started to fly away. The fisherwoman leaned back hard again, yanking the fish and the gull back to the water.
The battle continued for a full minute. While she reeled in slack line, the gull tried to fly away with the fish. She leaned back, bringing them back to the water two more times.
This young gull has learned to be a thief early in life.
In the end, the young woman won and the juvenile herring gull flew. It settled in the water at the middle of the pier and watched other fishermen.
Robin’s Journal – From the Observation Stand
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Molunkus (Map 44)
The power in the cabin comes from a generator in a nearby shed. It’s loud and disruptive; I don’t like to run it except to run the water and lights at night. The percolator glub-glubbed on the propane stove while we sat on the porch steps in silence. The electric coffee maker sat idle on the counter. Ducks paddled upstream, floated down and paddled up again. Hairy and downy woodpeckers, red and white breasted nuthatches and brown creepers flew from tree to tree. A mature American bald eagle flew down stream below the tree tops.
Ducks floated down stream, paddled up and floated back down.
We sat on the steps, losing track of time, until morning was almost over. After brunch we grabbed cameras and water and took off in the Jeep to explore. If there’s a road or path Tammy can’t see the end of, she must explore.
Cedar Cones
A chipmunk hole?
After an early supper we returned to “big field” at 5 pm, hoping to see the moose in better light. She didn’t visit the field that evening.
A third of big field.
It wasn’t long before a yearling doe appeared in the right side of the field. She didn’t get close enough for a great photo. I think she knew we were in the building and wasn’t overly concerned about us. She’s safe from people in the field, though she doesn’t know this.
This yearling doe grazed in the field.
Other than bluebirds, the doe was the only wildlife we saw in the field. We disturbed small birds roosting in birch trees draped over the trail from the field to the Jeep.
The Jeep’s headlights reflected from eyes near to the ground on the way back to camp. I turned on the off road lights on the roof to get a better look. A kitten limped into the woods. It was the first and last time we saw the kitten. The cat wasn’t seen after the first evening. How they got to be 10 miles into the woods is a mystery. Later that night, a dog barked three times in a row near camp. I waited for the porch light to turn on automatically but the dog didn’t come close enough to camp. We didn’t see or hear it again. Last summer a dog chased a deer through the field. Same one? We don’t know.
The most exciting time in the stand came the next evening.
Porcupine Damage (Map 44)
A porcupine, or maybe more than one, has been very busy over a period of two weeks. Their teeth grow and have to be kept at a proper length by chewing to prevent overgrowth. Overgrown teeth can cause starvation.
Porcupine(s) damage to a shed in Molunkus.
Robin’s Journal – From the Observation Stand
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Molunkus Stream (Map 44)
After seeing nothing in another stand we drove to a parking area for “big field.” It was after sunset but before dark. The only sounds during the quarter-mile walk were the small roosting birds we disturbed, crickets, and tall grasses under our feet. Tammy spotted a cow moose in the field before we got to the end of the trail. We backed up to a path that leads to the steps of the observation stand, walked in quietly and closed the door behind us. It was getting dark quickly and I realized I’d left the head lamps in the Jeep. We watched the moose eat until she disappeared down a path into the island of trees.
Watching over our shoulder occasionally, we made our way back up the hill to the Jeep. The full moon helped us see our way over ruts and through tall grass, and to see the moose if she happened to change course and be coming up behind us. This cow doesn’t have a calf to protect but that doesn’t mean she’s docile. They are large and usually slow but they can be fast and dangerous without notice. They aren’t called “wild” life for nothing.
We got into the Jeep and headed back to camp. Eyes. Glowing eyes in a clearing beside the road. A cat. Someone’s cat was 10 miles out the dirt road. It disappeared into the tall grass. We’d see another cat the next day.
Tiny Red Maple
Young, diseased and stressed maples start to change color first.
Robin’s Journal – From the Observation Stand
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Molunkus Stream, Molunkus
Ten miles out a dirt road, past the beaver lodge, behind a gate, around many corners and up and down hills, sits an observation deck on the edge of five acre field. It’s not the only place to sit and quietly observe, mostly unnoticed, but it’s my favorite. After a ten minute hike we find porcupine damage to the door of the stand.
Our first trip to the stand is brief. We returned that evening.
Identifying Poison Ivy and Other Plants
After not realizing what I was walking through was poison ivy until I was three feet in and up to my knees, I thought I’d share this link with you. Thankfully I had jeans and boots on.
Robin’s Journal – Back in the Boat
Another day spent on Spednic Lake, putting in at the landing in Vanceboro, Washington County. With the Gazetteer in easy reach, I can tell you that it’s Map 46. Fishing was slower but we still caught and released a lot of fish. I’d have liked to have kept the two white perch but they weren’t big enough to make a meal for three people. Something I’d never seen happened while trolling back to shore at the end of the day. A few minutes before sunset a large perch jumped. Within 30 seconds we were surrounded by a few hundred jumping and swirling fish. An osprey flying to the north of us turned in our direction, swooped down and caught a fish. It struggled slightly to take off. Ten feet off the surface, the osprey stopped flapping its wings for a split second to shake water off itself. As though the end-of-recess bell rang, the fish disappeared. From start to finish, the jumping frenzy lasted 15 minutes.
We see this loon in the same cove every time we're on the lake.
We saw only one American bald eagle while on the lake, off in the distance. Loons called back and forth, out of sight. One loon, that we see in the same cove each time we’re on the lake, floats around as though he’s people watching. I wonder what he does all day and why he’s not with the other loons.
Robin’s Journal – Raccoons, Skunk & One Big Mess
My day started at 3:30 am Saturday when I heard chickens in distress. Raccoon! It had to be a raccoon. I let the three dogs out, put my boots on and grabbed a flashlight. The dogs were around the bantam pen. By the time I walked the 30-feet from the house to the pen, Ava, my 11 month old pup, was following her nose toward the woods.
I found a hen sprawled on the ground, heaving her lasts breaths. Thankfully she died before I could get to her to snap her neck and put her out of her misery. She died a horrific death but it was over in two minutes. The dogs searched for the raccoon for two hours. I came in at 5:30 am to make coffee when I was sure I had the pen secure. The dogs stayed out. It’s unlikely that the raccoon went far. It had less than a minute from the time it attacked until the dogs were at the pen. They don’t run fast enough to go far in 60 seconds.
After a cup of coffee and time for the chickens to calm down I went to the pen to get the dead bird. Nasty raccoon! I have no use for them. It killed the chicken by pulling its leg off. The bantams will be closed into the greenhouse before sunset until sunrise until the Electronet arrives. They’re easy to pick up and carry so it’s a quick job.
I didn’t sleep well last night. I knew the raccoon would be back for another easy meal. The chickens were safe but I still slept with one eye open and one ear on. At 2:30 am a huge commotion in the barn started. If you’ve ever heard raccoons fighting, you know what I’m talking about. It’s such a terrible noise that I once called the police when living in Old Town because I thought someone was torturing an animal. I described the sounds to dispatch and he told me it was raccoons fighting. And fight they did in my barn this morning. The bushel and half bushel baskets I use in the one-acre garden were scattered across the barn floor. They’d been neatly stacked and put away, upside down, waiting to be used again. A stack of empty grain sacks had been pushed to the ground and the bags scattered. I didn’t go out during the fight. Angry raccoons are nothing to mess with.
When I checked the live trap this morning it was empty, except for the dead chicken I’d used for bait. Outside the barn, in the back section of the garden, a skunk spent considerable time digging for grubs and pooping in the garden.
Living in the woods with the wildlife isn’t always wonderful. I’d rather have a moose walk through the garden (which they do on occasion) than deal with raccoons and skunks.
Robin’s Journal – July 11, 2011
What a difference a week makes. Steve and I went fishing on Spednic Lake on July 4th. We fished the American and Canadian shores and caught a dozen small mouth bass using top water lures. None were much more than 12 inches long but they were very fat. We went fishing on Spednic again yesterday, July 10th, and had a very different experience.
I fished on top or just below the surface and caught nothing. Cast, reel. Cast, reel. Nothing. Steve quickly switched to a bottom bait and started catching big small mouth bass immediately, probably on the first cast. I changed lures, choosing for color, noise, action in the water, surface, down a foot, anything I could think of. I don’t like fishing the bottom because I get hung up all the time. If there’s a tree at the bottom of the lake, I’ll find and hook it. We spend more time with the trolling motor idling while I fight with an unseen object at the bottom of the lake than we do fishing.
It’s not discouraging to fish for hours and not catch anything. Being out in the boat on a beautiful lake is its own reward. I cast a lot to keep up with the years of practicing I did as a kid. I cast my weighted plug into a Hula Hoop, then a big basket and then a bowl for hours. We watched two American Bald Eagles fly along the shoreline, just above the tree line. Another Bald Eagle flew almost directly over our heads. I didn’t have the camera with me, darn it. While the motor was idling and Steve was reeling in an 18 inch fish last night, a Bald Eagle flew overhead, went about 50 feet past us and turned back to swoop down on a bass that it plucked from the water and landed in a dead tree to eat. You don’t get to see such things often.
Robin’s Journal: Enjoying the Water
I spend weekdays rushing around to get everything done so that when the weekend finally gets here we can spend our time in the boat. One evening last week we went for a ride on West Lake in Talmadge. Saturday took us back to West Lake, Sunday was spent swimming and fishing on Upper Sysladobsis in Lakeville Plantation and on Monday we took the boat to Spednic Lake in Vanceboro. We did a little fishing Sunday. Monday afternoon was great – bass after bass caught and released. A few weren’t legal but even the bigger fish were released for someone else to enjoy.
copyright Robin Follette
We enjoyed watching a family of common Merganser ducks. I think they were saying grace before supper. (In reality, they were preening after a swim.)
Common Mergansers preening after a swim.
Vanceboro – Cow Moose
In the past two days I’ve seen a young bull moose in Topsfield (Map 46), a cow and calf in Lakeville Plantation (Map 34) and a cow in Vanceboro (Map 46). They’ve finished shedding their winter coats; two weeks ago they were still looking scruffy. The bull’s antlers are covered in very dark velvet. All four moose appeared to be healthy.
Carolina Chickadee – Talmadge (Map 45)
An “odd” looking chickadee landed on a new window feeder this afternoon. It is a Carolina Chickadee. The black capped chickadees don’t come to the feeder when the American goldfinches are feeding but the Carolina didn’t hesitate to land, eat and fight back. (Picture later, if it returns.) RF
