Archive for the ‘Quoddy Nature Notes’ Category

With the recent ‘celebration’ of Groundhog Day, it might be applicable to look at this critter after its day of prominence.  I mean, the beginning of February, during the winter doldrums, is a good time for a little festivity, but this could be Skunk Day, or Snapping turtle Day, and any one of these would be just as applicable here in the Quoddy Region.  Our grumpy woodchucks, the few that we have here, are still too busy hibernating to participate in such foolishness.

A woodchuck meets up with a crow. (Archive photo.)

The Woodchuck, Marmota monax, (or Munimqehs in my Passamaquoddy reference book) is a large ground squirrel that is native to Northern and Eastern North America.  It is a solitary animal and does not form a social group like other ground squirrels.  The woodchuck is also pretty aggressive, and critters like the laid back Punxsutawney Phil are the exception to woodchuck society.  When I was a youngster we once found a baby woodchuck that was the exception.  Its mother or siblings must have kicked him out of the burrow because of this failing and we brought this relatively docile animal home.  He was an interesting little critter and didn’t mind being handled, and went about his business of eating grass and other plants, until one day he wandered into the vegetable garden and ate some beans.  Unfortunately, my father had just doused the beans with the latest and most toxic Japanese beetle spray, and this proved fatal to the poor woodchuck.  We felt sad about our little pet, and a few days after a proper funeral, we saw an opportunity for a replacement, as we spotted a young woodchuck high up in a red maple near the edge of the woods.  Our plans were immediate; I would shinny up the tree and shake the woodchuck down and my brother would catch him with a fishnet on the ground and we would positively keep him in a cage.  Up the tree I went, down came the woodchuck and my brother expertly caught him, which precipitated a violent reaction of chewing and biting and scratching by the woodchuck.  A few seconds later when I got down my brother was holding a badly mangled fishnet, and the woodchuck had left.  Another lesson learned.

In my youth the owners of the small farms of rural Massachusetts welcomed my efforts at eliminating the pesty marmots, and it was an interesting challenge with either .22 or archery.  I have long since graduated to Nikon, but woodchucks are not much of a quarry here.  I have heard that there are woodchucks in Pembroke, but I have never seen one.  I have seen some away from the coast, but not reliably along the highway until Bangor and further south.  Woodchucks need a lot of food to fatten up during the summer and are almost exclusively herbivores, although some insects and even poultry have been reported in their diet.  True hibernators, their body temperature drops to about 47 Deg F during their winter nap, but males may awaken in late winter and venture out in the snow before returning to hibernation.  A very fastidious animal, it may build a separate chamber in its burrow system for a toilet, or bury its scat outdoors.  The Native Americans prized the pelt of a woodchuck for making mittens, as apparently it makes a soft leather.  The woodchucks prized the beans grown by the Native Americans, and the Indians trained their dogs to guard their gardens.  With the coming of the European colonists the landscape was opened up for fields and gardens, and as more prime habitat became available, the woodchuck population increased, and its present population density seems to peak around Ohio.

I have never eaten woodchuck, although it apparently is a good flavored meat, but I have eaten and enjoyed other squirrels.  On Groundhog Day I guess it wouldn’t be right to have the guest of honor on the menu.  The cranky old woodchuck probably wouldn’t show up at all, and we would have winter all year round.

Foxes

There is actually quite a bit of activity going on in Maine in the bleak midwinter.  Bears typically have their cubs (See ‘Lugnut’ and her twin cubs, born 1/16/2012, at http://www.wildliferesearch.org); honeybees are starting a new generation of workers, and foxes have romance on their minds and are marking their territories.  We only have the Red Fox here in the Quoddy region and there has been some debate as to whether or not these critters are native or were introduced by the early European settlers.  Our Red fox was long recognized as a separate species  Vulpes fulva, but it is now deemed the same clever animal of European folklore V. vulpes. Even though some of these animals had been brought over from Europe, the early explorers noted Red foxes and the trade with Native Americans included the furs of the Red fox.  Martin Pring, searching for furs and anything of value to trade in 1603, noted Red foxes in the openings along the coast of Maine and especially on the islands.  He even named one of the islands ‘Fox Island’, which is now known as Vinalhaven.  I checked with Kirk Gentalen, the only naturalist that I know on Vinalhaven, and he wrote that he saw a Red fox there about 7 years ago, but hasn’t seen any signs since.  I haven’t seen a fox on our property for many years, even though I encourage native predators, and there is a Fox Island off our shore in Cobscook Bay.  I have seen foxes in the town of Pembroke, but I have never gotten a good picture of one.

The Red fox has the widest range of any terrestrial carnivore, and, with over 50 recognized subspecies, it is found on most continents except South America, Antarctica and most of Africa.  It may be seen in many colors; including black, gray and silver, but it always has a white-tipped tail.  The Red fox has a keen sense of smell and acute senses of hearing and sight.  Interestingly, the ears of the Red fox are most sensitive to sounds of about 3.5 kHz; much lower than other predators.  It is thought that this sound is more in the range of small rodents gnawing or rustling in the grass or leaves.  The eyes of Red foxes are also unusual, being of yellow color with vertical pupils, more like a cat and not much like other canids.  Foxes are of the same family as wolves and coyotes but they separated into their own genus about 10 million years ago, so although there have been reports of coyote, wolf, or dog/fox hybrids there have been no hybrids that have stood up to scientific scrutiny.

Red foxes are not very big, and average about 10 pounds.  They are pretty immune to the cold weather, and seldom seek shelter for a nap in the most severe blizzard.  They just curl up where they feel the safest from predators.  The biggest predators around here are trappers and automobiles, even though coyotes will prey on foxes.  It’s sort of interesting that there is a strong dislike among members of the canid family.  Many years ago I was hunting gray squirrels in Massachusetts, and I had a couple of farm pooches that every once in a while would be helpful in my sport.  This time they ran off, and shortly after I heard them barking.  The barking was different; there was a distinct hatred conveyed by my normally pretty docile mutts, and I found that they had cornered a Red fox in a bank.  I wasn’t after fox, and it was with some difficulty that I got them out of there and back home, because squirrel hunting was done for the day.

Red foxes are clever and considered a challenge to trap.  From the data that I have, in the past 10 years the number harvested annually in Maine has ranged from about a 1000 to 2000.  The pelts may average about $20, but some exotic silver or platinum colored morphs have in the past brought well over $1,000 each.  I hope some plain old Red fox doesn’t get harvested because he rolled around in my wood ash pile.  Nah.  They’re too smart for that.

The Bittersweet Aspect of ‘Bittersweet’

                Bittersweet, of the genus Celastrus, is a handsome, climbing vine with dark green foliage in the summer and oodles of red berries that appear in the fall and persist all winter. According to one of my references, ‘Flora of the Northeast’ by Magee and Ahles, there are two species of bittersweet that appear in Maine.  The native species, American bittersweet, C. scandens, is pretty widespread but rare, and ranges as far north as Piscataquis, Penobscot and Hancock counties, however is not listed in Washington County.  The introduced Asiatic bittersweet, C. orbitculatus,  is relegated to Waldo, Knox and York counties.  In his book ‘Flora of New Brunswick’ Hal Hinds mentions only C. scandens, and as “Formerly inhabiting several islands in the St. John River in Carlton and York Counties and extirpated due to flooding by the Mactaquac Hydroelectric Development.”

American Bittersweet evolved in the Western hemisphere and ranges out beyond the Mississippi, but does not appear on the West coast.  Asiatic Bittersweet is native to Eastern Asia (Korea, China and Japan) and was introduced to the United States around 1860, possibly as a low maintenance  decorative plant.  It appeared in Connecticut by 1916, in Massachusetts by 1919, and in New Hampshire by 1938, and presently has a range beyond its native cousin.  One of the reasons it spread was because Asiatic Bittersweet was planted as a very economical method of soil stabilization along roads.  There are some subtle but serious differences between American Bittersweet and Asiatic Bittersweet.  The plants and berries look very similar, but the Asiatic bittersweet will have the fruiting stems appear where the leaves grow out of the main vine, while the American bittersweet will have the fruit at the tip of small branches that include leaves.

I’ve never noticed American bittersweet in my tromping around in New England, but I have witnessed the expansion of the range of the Asiatic variety.  The plant is very rugged and aggressive and will inhabit just about any area, although it really likes wetlands and roadsides.  It can tolerate shade and its favorite starting place is the base of a tall hardwood like oak, maple or ash on river bottom soil.  Asiatic bittersweet grows sort of slowly in the shade but eventually reaches beyond 50 feet until it finally finds full sunlight, and there its photosynthesis shifts into high gear, and soon  plunges the top branches of the host tree into shade, often with fatal results.  The vine will grow in about any type of soil and is even appearing on sand dunes along the coast.  Some states like CT, MA, NH and VT have listed Asiatic bittersweet as a noxious weed, and the Extension Bulletin #2506 of The University of Maine labels it a threat to native habitats, but it is listed for sale at Surrey Gardens.  Be careful, as once established, Asiatic bittersweet is a very difficult plant to eradicate or control.

Bittersweet is not palatable to deer, rabbits or cattle but the berries are readily eaten (and seeds spread) by many birds and small mammals, although they are poisonous to people.  The inner bark of American bittersweet had been used by Native Americans as an emergency food, and recent studies have shown anti tumor, anti inflammatory, anti oxidant, anti bacterial and insecticidal properties in compounds produced in this plant.  An interesting relative of the bittersweet that is plaguing parts of the US is a shrub from India, C.paniculatus. The oil pressed from the seeds of this plant is, “… used to increase memory and facilitate learning.  It induces a feeling of well-being and has reported aphrodisiac effects.”  Sounds pretty benign.  I certainly could use some help in the memory department.  Maybe we could convince those that are inclined to experiment with drugs that C. paniculatus is a good substitute for bath salts.

by Fred Gralenski

I got the topic for this essay at breakfast.  I mix up some oatmeal, bran, slices of wild apple (these will run out in a few weeks), a couple of tablespoons of ground up flax seed and sunflower seeds, and top it off with a tablespoonful of honey.  Add some water, stir, then zap this for 6 minutes at a power level of 6, add a little milk and UM! UMM! Fit for a king.

People have been using honey as a sweetener for thousands of years.  The oldest reference seems to be a 10,000 year old cave drawing in Spain depicting a couple of women collecting honey. (Of course, with two unclad maidens with baskets on a rickety ladder approaching a bee hive, this may also be the first noted record of a pinup).  Mago of ancient Carthage wrote much about agriculture and bees and honey.  In biblical times John the Baptist ate locusts and wild honey, and a land of milk and honey was a good place to live.  Honey was commonly used in all parts of the old world.  In the Western Hemisphere before Columbus there was some honey harvested from stingless bees by South American natives, but honey bees as we know them were not here until the early European colonists.

Looking at the USDA production data of 2010, the US produced over 175 million pounds of honey.  Surprising to me, the state that produced the most honey was North Dakota, with over 46 million pounds. Maine was not a heavy producer of honey with a total production of about 246,000 lbs.  The data is a little fuzzy as to whether or not this includes the hives brought in for blueberry pollination, but interestingly our production of honey was more than that of Virginia. Since Virginia encompasses Washington DC, I guess the production of sweet talk is more important down there.  The country that produces the most honey is China, with over 200 million lbs produced last year.  There was some controversy early in the year about China sneaking 60 million pounds of ultra filtered honey through India and into the US. If you want to get some real honey from our own lupines and goldenrods complete with a little pollen and all of that other good stuff, buy your honey local.  I get mine from Stephen Taylor of Pembroke.  He claims this year was pretty good, and his hive production was very satisfactory, at about 60 lbs per colony.  Bee keeping can be an iffy hobby, and some say that coastal properties are especially vulnerable.  Bees are very susceptible to just about any pesticide, even if it doesn’t kill them outright, as a bee, like any of us, that is under the weather, just won’t produce.  A beekeeper in Lubec had a poor year , lost one hive, and the other hives had such marginal honey production that they opted to leave the honey for the bees for winter food.

We have all watched the busy worker bees harvesting the nectar and pollen, but we are not privy to see what goes on in the hive, and we have to rely on beekeepers and scientists.  When the worker bee goes into the hive with a gut of nectar and baskets of pollen, she regurgitates the partially worked nectar into a ‘house’ bee.  (This is called ‘trophallaxis’ not mouth to mouth p—-g).  The house bee somehow ‘works’ the nectar by digestion and drying (?) until it has the proper consistency of honey (i.e. very little moisture and a ph of about 4.0) so it can be sealed in the comb for later use.  Honey in this state will last indefinitely, as no fermenting organisms can live in it.  However, the endospores of the bacterium C.botulinum  can survive, and with enough moisture, like in the digestive tract of a baby, the bacterium will flourish and be viable, and cause Infantile Botulism.  Don’t feed raw honey to an infant, even during the holidays.  Us old geezers, however, can enjoy it with impunity on our breakfasts, and if I had any Mead (or any drink made with honey) I’d raise it up and wish you all BEST WISHES FOR THE HOLIDAYS!!

It probably wasn’t the smartest thing to travel to western Massachusetts on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, but schedules were set in stone, and alternatives were inconceivable, so off we went. The storm had sort of overwhelmed the road crews, and travel on Route 9 was limited, especially for the semis trying to negotiate the up sides of the hills, and many of these hills were lined with truckers probably bemoaning their fate, and awaiting better conditions. We noted many minor accidents but by Kennebunk the storm conditions had abated and travel was simple the rest of the way, and we arrived safely at our destination only two and a half hours late. (The Wednesday before Thanksgiving brought a snowstorm that closed some roads and put vehicles into snowbanks.)

It’s interesting to be back at my old stomping grounds and note the changes. I found the stone dam in the little brook that my brother and I had built over 60 years ago. The dam was still OK but the little pond behind it had filled with gravel and pebbles that had come off the mountain. This was located a little outside the pasture but the remnants of the old barbwire fence we had strung were deeply buried in the trees that marked the boundary. No domestic animals had tested our efforts at containment for over a half century, and the Norway spruce that I had helped plant back in the 1940’s were pretty big trees. When they were first growing I remember the worms that often got into the leader of the main stem, but the trees are good timber size now. A small rectangular half acre that over the years grew sweet corn, sugar beets and finally tobacco (for my father’s personal use), was now in Red pine, and the little orchard of nondescript apples had disappeared except for a cherry tree that was being crowded out by the Red pine branches. I tapped on an old bird box hanging in the tree and out popped a flying squirrel and he hid behind the tree and waited for me to leave, which I did but not before taking his picture. Another bird house that I had put up years ago had a mouse nest on top of the bird’s nest. I gently poked the nest and out popped a white footed mouse. He tired of waiting for me to get out my camera, and went back inside. I carefully looked inside the nest and there he was all curled up. He let me touch him, and I felt his warm, rapid heartbeat, and then I left him in his house. Since I built the house in the first place I felt that I had landlord inspection privileges, but I later brought him down half a roll from my Thanksgiving dinner. Continuing my check of the old sod I found a Witch Hazel in bloom and wondered why the petals are so strange and why the whole reproductory cycle of Witch Hazel seems so out of sync with the rest of the trees and shrubs. We then did more exploring on one of our favorite spots by the Connecticut River where a line of bittersweet-ladened trees separated the river from a large meadow where corn and other crops were grown. The reward of our efforts was finding a big flock of sparrows, chickadees, goldfinches, nuthatches, robins, bluebirds, blue jays and woodpeckers.

We entertained ourselves while traveling on the roads from Maine to Connecticut and back by noting stuff of nature and other miscellany. Our tally was: 15 Red-tailed hawks, mostly in Connecticut but a couple north of Augusta; 5 deer harvested by hunters and one hit by car; 32 Christmas trees on cars and 4 truckloads of Christmas trees. We returned the Sunday after Thanksgiving and, thankfully, only a small poplar was across our driveway. We did find an unwelcome hitch hiker; a deer tick. Undoubtedly, an omen of things to come. Hopefully, the ‘prophylactic dose to keep from getting Lyme disease’, which is a simple two pill treatment, is successful. I made sure the little bugger was dead before I took his picture.

We have three members of the Procyonidae family in the US, but only the raccoon, Procyon lotor, is here in the Quoddy region, as well as throughout the country and through Central America and southern Canada.  The raccoon (or ‘Espons’ in my Passamaquoddy Reference Book) is native only to the Western hemisphere, but has been introduced into many places like Germany, Azerbaijan, Russia, and Japan.  I wonder if cottage industries have evolved in those distant countries for exterminators to rid houses and buildings of our transplants?  Around here it may be only a few hundred dollars, but in New Jersey I read of $1800 to remove the ‘coon and plug the access entry.  Because of their intelligence, dexterity, strength, omnivorous food habits and ability to live next to people, raccoons can be and are a major nuisance.  Adult raccoons typically weigh from 10-20 pounds, but the largest on record is over 60 pounds.  In the wild their lifespan is about 5 years but in captivity they can live over 15 years.  Raccoons eat almost everything, especially anything associated with water, like frogs, snakes, snails, clams, mussels, crabs and salamanders.  A few years ago on my amphibian checks in the spring I found a half dozen dead spotted salamanders with their heads chewed off.  Even though there was no definite proof, the culprit was probably a raccoon.  Spotted salamanders, although not equipped with the toxicity of their cousin the eastern newt, apparently do have an unpleasant taste, but not enough to completely dissuade a hungry ‘coon.  Raccoons are notorious for knowing when your sweet corn is ripening, and are very skilled at harvesting it a day or two before you do.  They are not very careful or conservative about the process, and besides making a big mess, destroy or damage much more than they eat. Chickens and eggs are also fair game, especially in the late summer and early fall when the ‘coons are fattening up in anticipation of winter.  In the spring the eggs of turtles and ground nesting birds are favored.

It’s very difficult and time consuming to secure protection against the destruction of raccoons, as they are very clever, and will find any weakness in any defense system you set up.  I find that a fence or any arrangement that incorporates an electric shock is effective, as ‘coons have very sensitive paws.  Traps and the .22 caliber solution work, but must be used with caution.  Hunting ‘coons at night with dogs is a sport that seems to be more common further south.  Raccoons are the most popular fur bearing animal harvested in the US, with about 3 million harvested annually, and the skins go for about $10 to $20 each.  Coonskin caps were popular in the time of Daniel Boone, and in the roaring twenties any wag of note needed a coonskin coat to wear while dashing about in an open roadster. Raccoons are good to eat, and some authors describe the flavor as similar to lamb.  I like the taste, and prefer it in a crockpot setting.  Hunters and Ford 150’s are the only predators of adult raccoons around here, but young raccoons are harvested by owls and coyotes.

Since raccoons are very common here, a couple of cautions are in order about the many diseases common to raccoons, especially several variants of rabies. Rabies is a serious disease, but if recognized in time, treatments are available.  A more sinister malady is the ‘Baylisascaris roundworm’, a common parasite of raccoons in some parts of the country, but, fortunately, not very common here yet.  If the parasite infects a person, the worm migrates to the brain, and, according to the CDC, no cure is presently available.  The infecting vector is raccoon poop, which may contain the eggs of this parasite.  The CDC recommends considering any raccoon poop on your stairs or deck as hazardous waste, and washing the area with boiling water, as chemicals like Lysol or bleach are ineffective.

And finally, after all this, one can, with the proper permits, buy a baby raccoon online for $350.  I would strongly advise against this.  If your child needs a pet, adopt a cat from PAWS, teach the child to take care of it and keep the cat indoors.

by Fred Gralenski

Our Canada goose, Branta canadensis, may be distantly related to the silly goose of fairy tales and barnyards, but trying to categorize it and its closer cousins is pretty tough. Krohn (1988) wrote that sixteen subspecies of B. canadensis were recognized in North America, and these ranged in size from the Giant (Branta canadensis maxima), tipping the scale at up to 20 pounds, to the 3 pound ‘Cackling’ goose B.canadensis hutchinsii. Recently the single Canada goose species was separated into two distinct species; the ‘large bodied’ species Branta canadensis, with 7 subspecies; and the small bodied or ‘Cackling’ species Branta hutchinsii, with 4 subspecies. (Are you confused yet?) Historically, geese were a favorite of hunters, both Native Americans and the Europeans that subsequently followed, and by 1900 no geese were nesting in Maine and few were flying overhead to migrate in the spring and fall. This caused great concern among hunters and conservationists alike and hunting regulations and seasons were adopted and enforced. In the early 1960’s wild Canada geese were captured in the Midwest and introduced to Maine. Apparently some or most of these birds were B.c. maxima, the Giant Canada goose.

An interesting characteristic of this bird is that it is not migratory, at least in comparison to most of the other types of geese, and is content to live close to people. This feature has proven to be a problem all over New England, as geese are attracted to open fields and other places with ample grass and water. Golf courses, parks and airports often have to resort to extraordinary means to keep the pesty critters at bay. We lived in Massachusetts in the early 1970’s, and I remember some of the incidents at Logan International Airport with planes being damaged by collisions with geese. Our property abutted a small swampy pond, and I recall being impressed by a pair of Canada geese that noisily took up residence there. I was less impressed with them when they ate everything in the little 6X8 foot patch I had dug up for a veggie garden. Even when I fenced in my garden the geese would reach in and bite off or uproot any plant in range. They did migrate in the winter, but only a couple of miles to the nearest open water on the Merrimack River. When we lived in Northern New Hampshire there was always a large flock of Canada geese on the Androscoggin River. The story was that they had been collected somewhere in Connecticut and brought up there. Geese have also been transplanted, very successfully as far as geese are concerned, to Great Britain and other parts of Europe. I suspect that they are the non-migratory versions, and I wonder how the groundkeepers of fancy estates like the greased-up lawns.

Here in Maine I seldom see (or hear) the high flying Canada goose, Branta canadensis canadensis, on its Spring or Fall migration flight. Canada geese generally mate for life, and apparently if a local bird mates with a migratory bird the family takes up the non-migratory way of life. We do occasionally have the small ‘Cackling’ geese here in Maine, but the subspecies is indeterminate. I have never seen one but Bill Sheehan has posted pictures on his blog of individuals he has photographed up in Aroostook County. Maine has a split hunting season that focused on the resident Canada goose population in September and a season that focuses on the migratory population from Oct to Dec 9 here in the Quoddy region. The total harvest in Maine last year was about 9,000 birds. If you are really into goose hunting, Maryland is the place to go. Hunters harvested over 200,000 birds last year in Maryland, and that’s a lot of Christmas dinners.

Do you suppose people asked each other that question back in the 1500’s when the old English nursery rhyme, “Mary, Mary quite contrary…” was first written?  Probably, but that ditty apparently had little to do with gardens but with the Protestant/Catholic struggle going on at the time.  But aside from stirring up old rivalries, how DID your garden grow?

From what I found out from my many questions (I do like to babble about everything, especially in small groups and with people that speak up), most gardens in the Quoddy Region didn’t do very well.  Mine was poor, with few bright spots, but it was still an interesting growing season.  I knew that the corn would be a failure because of the cool, damp weather, and that certainly came true, but I had read somewhere that potatoes, onions, carrots and beets could tolerate and even thrive under those conditions.  My potatoes pouted instead of sprouted and produced little; my onions, usually a pretty easy- to- get- along- with crop, grumbled and wouldn’t play by the rules; my beets just sulked all summer, and the carrots looked sickly all season with yellow jaundice and didn’t recover until the end of September.  They have a healthy green color now, and that should look nice against the snow.  Squash, usually another stalwart, came up only sporadically and produced only one and a half small fruit.  The half one was small enough to be shared by a raccoon.  Usually winter squash, when they are ripe, are too big for these masked thieves to bite, but this year I had to share.  Cucumbers were a different kind of story.  The ones I planted directly in the ground a week after Memorial Day never emerged.  Linda started cucumbers in the sunspace, and the two plants she didn’t sell at the Pembroke Library book, bake and yard sale I planted in the garden.  I misjudged the hardening off process and my poor cucumbers got scorched by the sun and really looked tortured, and I worried about what I would say if Amnesty International came knocking at my door.  Those two plants, for all my mistreatment, supplied us with reliable summer salads from the middle of July all the way through September and I harvested the last cucumber on October 6^th.  I’m not sure if I learned anything in the process or not.  Peppers also were a pleasant surprise.  The seeds sprouted very slowly when I planted them inside in mid-April, and the plants didn’t look very energetic when I set them outside early in June, however this was one of my better years for peppers.  I raise primarily the Hungarian hot wax peppers, which really are not very hot, but do have a little zip to them.  I find that the bell peppers are not as reliable, and I raise them sometimes as sort of an experiment, like I did with the super hot peppers.  As of this writing on 23 Oct, I have one hot wax and two super hot pepper plants still producing.  Tomato growing this year was confusing.  I usually have a lot of seeds left over from previous years, as I like to raise a bunch of different types of tomatoes.  I like the yellow pear, various types of cherry, plum and maybe an heirloom or so and a big beef for salads and sandwiches.  This was the first year in over 20 years of gardening in Pembroke that I had problems with ‘wilt’ or ‘late blight’ with my tomatoes.  My plants started out looking very healthy, but then were very slow to fix fruit, then seemed to wilt.  This happened in different stages to different types of plants, even those that were deemed wilt resistant.  Every gardener I talked to, except a fellow from Lubec (?),  had similar problems and one gardener even claims he is giving up gardening.  Is this why Wal-Mart in Calais is adding a big grocery section?  Is this why ‘JOHNNY’S’ had a big ad for their new and improved 2525 DEFIANT PHR (F1) to protect against Phytophthora?  Besides soil, fertilizer, water, etc.  do I need a Crystal ball to raise tomatoes?

Black Knapweed is not a common plant here in the Quoddy region. The flower looks like a thistle, but the plant has no thorns or prickers to ward off us nosy people that like to poke around with such things. This knapweed is called ‘black’ because of the lower parts of the flower head (bracts) are a dark brown/black color, and each bract looks like a tiny dark frilly fern. Black Knapweed, Centaura nigra, belongs to the Aster family Asteracae, like daisies and sunflowers. It is a perennial and ranges from New England through the Middle Atlantic states down to the Virginia/ North Carolina border and out to and including Missouri; and the Pacific Northwest including California. There are about 25 species of knapweed here in the United States, and most have been introduced. Black Knapweed was first noted in the Western Hemisphere in Quebec around 1850. The prevalence seems to be around the coast, and I have not noticed it here in Pembroke but I have noticed it in the Machias area and on Campobello. It seems that it was brought here inadvertently and also intentionally as Black Knapweed is used as a garden border in its native United Kingdom. Most knapweeds prefer dry areas like gravelly roadsides and railroad beds, and don’t particularly like the heavy, wet soils that we typically have here, however these guys are pretty persistent and can be invasive. Black Knapweed is classified as a noxious weed in the state of Washington especially in King county where it was first noted in 1895, and anyone putting in a border of Black Knapweed for their garden risks a healthy fine. There are biological controls listed if Knapweed overwhelms the area, but they are not cheap. Root weevils are available at $140 for 100 insects or the more economical Flower weevils at the bargain rate of $80 for 200 bugs.

Closeup of Black Knapweed showing the frilly bracts.

I can’t find any references that the Native Americans used any forms of knapweed for anything, even though the stems seem to be pretty tough and wiry. The flowers of Black Knapweed are an attraction for honeybees and butterflies like the American Lady. The flower petals, like many flower petals, are purported to be edible, and can be added to salads. Another attractive feature of Black Knapweed is that it is unlikely to be eaten by deer. Goldfinches like the seeds, and each flower head produces about 60 seeds, and these closely resemble thistle (or Niger) seeds.

American Lady on Black Knapweed.

Black Knapweed has been used for centuries in Europe as a medicinal plant, especially as a help in healing wounds. A poultice was made of the leaves and applied to the stricken area. This procedure was also used for treating ‘whitlows’ and ‘felons’. ( According to Webster’s, these are “…pus producing infections at the end of a finger or toe near or under the nail.”) For catarrh, a decoction of one ounce of dried roots and seeds should be put in a pan containing two and a half cups of cold water. Bring this to a boil then simmer until a volume of only one cup remains. Strain this and after it cools use a dose of 2 ounces three times a day. If the patient gets better, it worked. If the patient doesn’t get better, he probably didn’t have catarrh (whatever that is) anyway. And, as a medical finale, my Culpeper states that Knapweed “…helps to stay the fluxes…of the mouth and nose…and also of the belly.”

One reference stated that in Germany it is the custom for an unmarried person to wear the flower of black Knapweed in their buttonhole. Are unmarried persons more apt to have unstayed fluxes of the belly?

As I write this, the calendar says summer is still with us, but a few cool, brisk days signal the coming of autumn here in the Quoddy region. This also signals the start of hunting season in Maine. Check the rule book for the dates, as they are often staggered for methods, areas and species. Hunting is now largely a sport around here, but it wasn’t too long ago that hunting was deemed a necessity for some rural families. I like to hunt, even though I don’t do much anymore, but I also like to ponder the evolution, preparation and prejudices of food, with no apologies that I’m a carnivore.

The oldest reference that I can find for meat preparation is the bible in the book of Exodus. In the first Passover, the Israelites were commanded to slaughter a one year old male lamb (sheep or goat) at twilight, roast it over a fire with its head, legs and inner organs, and consume it that night with bitter herbs and unleavened bread, and, likely washed down with some local drink. Reading between the lines, the Israelites were admonished not to eat any of the meat raw, so they probably did so at times. A roast that size would take 3-6 hours. Did they leave the skin on? Were there any preparations whatever of the lamb?

Moving ahead to the mid 1600’s, and Nicholas Denys wrote his memoirs of life with the Native Americans in what is now New Brunswick and Nova Scotia. In describing the porcupine, Denys wrote, “…It is very good to eat. It is placed on the fire to be grilled like a Pig… Being singed, well roasted, washed, and placed on the spit it is as good as suckling Pig.” I can’t follow his description very well. Did they leave the skin on (and inner organs) and singe the porcupine and then roast it? What is ‘washed’? Is that another term for ‘basted’? I would think that it was on the spit during the roasting.

My next reference, ‘Indian New England Before the Mayflower’ by Howard Russell, I find very informative. He writes that Native Americans were known to waste little, and their consumption of any animal was almost complete. “…Raccoon, beaver, otter, turtle, skunk, rabbit, woodchuck, rattlesnake, seal, whale, frog -the meat of every kind of mammal except flesh eaters like the wolf- the natives cooked and ate.” I think that Russell snuck in a little bit of European slant when he wrote of the exception, as the Native Americans were known to consider dog meat as fit for any guest. The Indians often roasted their meat but liked it boiled if time permitted. Certainly drying and smoking were standard ways of preserving meats and fish, but interestingly enough the Native Americans, even along the coast, apparently never used salt. Many early writers noted this, and surmised that various herbs and ”… the digestive parts of animals were likely to contain concentrated flavors and food salts.” Even after European contact, Native Americans used little if any salt in their diet but did adopt the use of salt for preserving meats.

The famed mountain men of the American west generally roasted their meat, and apparently ate lots of it, at 5 to 7 pounds at a sitting. With their very active lifestyle they needed many calories to survive, and wild game is very lean. These outdoorsmen almost always depended on large game, as a single rabbit or grouse would definitely not suffice for a single meal.

Good or bad, our present consideration for the type and preparation of meat is heavily influenced by a lot of fads and prejudices. Lots of these are regional, as in the South it is definitely more common to see ‘Chitterlings’ (chitlins) on the menu. I’ve never seen that on a menu in the Quoddy region, but I can readily get steamed clams and eat the WHOLE thing except for the shells and ‘skin’ on the neck. And I can get, and enjoy, calamari. Squid! You ate a SQUID!