Quoddy Nature Notes – What’s Everything Eating?
by Fred Gralenski
Male Pileated Woodpecker. I don't know if this was the guy that made the hole or not.
I like to watch critters to see what they are doing, and this time of year most are looking for something to eat. Bird feeders are a good place to start. We use black oil sunflower seeds in one feeder, fine cracked corn in another, Nyger seed in another and a cage with suet. We also put out the foodscraps that we don’t compost, like fat and bones. This buffet attracts Blue jays, Chickadees, Red-breasted nuthatches, Mourning doves, Crows, Juncos, now and then a Hairy woodpecker and, of course, Red squirrels. Our sock of Nyger seed gets the least use, as the Finches and their irruptive cousins haven’t visited us, but the Chickadees and Nuthatches might land on it if everything else is empty. In the barn I may put out meat scraps or slices of old hotdogs left in the back of the freezer, and quite a few different critters will help themselves, including Red squirrels, Deer mice, Weasels and Shrews. I was reminded of this the other day when I was filling my chain saw and a shrew ran by my boot. We have five species of shrews here in the Quoddy region, but he didn’t seem to be a Short-tailed or a Pygmy or a Water shrew, so he must have been a Masked or a Smoky shrew. Besides hotdog parts, this time of year shrews eat insects (cluster flies hibernating in my barn) and anything else they can find, including each other. Pretty secretive critters, I plan to study them more sometimes. Outside, shrews are usually at the snow/ground interface foraging for any bug or critter. Shrews may surface when crossing my driveway and, if the snow is soft, will push through and make a little tunnel. They have pretty weak legs and don’t normally hop. The shrews may prey on voles and Deer mice under the snow cover. The voles are living on plant parts that they have stored and are also digging down to bulbs and chewing the bark off of woody shrubs in the flower garden. They also may surface to cross a driveway to find some other goodies. Deer mice are living on seeds some of which they might have stored themselves. They are a little more apt to come into buildings than voles or shrews. Jumping mice are hibernating, unless they come into a building and find a sap (like me) to feed them. Whatever that critter is, it doesn’t like peanuts.
Hole where a Pileated got his dinner. The hole is 2" wide by about 3" high and the bird had to go through 2" of solid Red Spruce to reach the punky area where the ants were hibernating. Imagine the work going into that? The hole was about 2 1/2 feet up from the ground, and was out of the snowline because it was right on the side of my driveway, and this is why I cut it down. I felt that it would blow down at an inopportune time. The woodpecker did find some ants, but there were many more closer to the ground.
The deep snow is great protection for the small animals, but bad for the foxes, bobcats, coyotes and other predators like hawks and owls. I think that even Pileated woodpeckers are having more of a problem. Pileated woodpeckers eat Carpenter ants during the winter. Ants may hibernate ten to fifteen feet up in a dead tree, but in my experience the great majority of hibernating Carpenter ants are within two feet of the ground. With two feet of heavy snow on the ground, many of the hibernating ants are not having nightmares about the ‘Cock of the Woods’ rapping on their bedroom door.
And, of course, with heavy snow we have to worry about the deer, and there have been articles about whether or not we should feed them. When we lived in Northern New Hampshire the deer would browse the cedar quite heavily, and the browse line could be noticeable. Cedar is one of the better foods for the deer in the winter, and probably the mainstay of their winter diet, but I notice the deer especially like tree lichens. If cedar is the bread and butter for deer then tree lichens might be considered their cake, or here in Maine, Whoopie pies.
So looking into my (ice) crystal ball, I’ll make a prediction for the coming summer: Mice and voles will be more numerous, as many will survive the winter and their predators will be fewer, but I don’t predict a plague; deer will be OK around here as the food seems to adequate and the predators few, but further inland the deep snow will have a detrimental effect; owls will take a beating, but the survivors for the summer will have easy pickings, and my Pileated woodpeckers? I hope they make it OK. I’ll cut down on my ration of ants just so they can have more, even though Pileateds seldom come to the feeders.
Quoddy Nature Notes – Red-breasted Nuthatch
by Fred Gralenski
Red-breasted Nuthatch on a suet feeder (bait bag from a lobster trap).
Even though I dearly love the Black-capped Chickadee, the Maine State Bird, I think the Red- breasted Nuthatch is my favorite winter bird. The nuthatch sounds so contented when he’s on the bird feeder and telling the world how lucky he is, with his nasal, “nyank, Nyank, NYANK!” and subsequent twittering. How does a tiny bird make a nasal sound? That’s one of the interesting mysteries the animal world. Another mystery is how quickly this contented bird can make a loud untranslatable squawk at some other bird that he deems is trespassing in his space. I think we are pretty fortunate that feistiness is often inversely proportional to size.
We have two kinds of nuthatches here in the Quoddy region: the Red-breasted Nuthatch, Sitta canadensis, and the White-breasted Nuthatch, Sitta carolinensis. From their scientific names one can correctly guess that the Red-breasted is the more northerly of the two species, and is more common in coniferous forests. The White-breasted Nuthatch is bigger, but sometime the Red-breasted Nuthatch is mistaken for a White-breasted if its colors have faded in late winter. An unmistakable trait of the Red-breasted is the dark line through its eye. Nuthatches are pretty acrobatic birds and prefer to forage on trees upside down, and work down headfirst from higher up. All woodpeckers and the Brown Creeper check out trees by going up, and they can’t come down headfirst. It is thought by some ornithologists that this ability gives Nuthatches a little different perspective of the bark of a tree and they might find food that a woodpecker has missed. The climbing ability of both types of birds is an interesting study in dynamics that has never been completely explained to me. Most woodpeckers have two toes facing forward and two toes facing back and they keep their feet side by side and when holding onto a tree lean back on their stiff tails. Woodpeckers move with a jerking motion, but keep the same stance. This indicates that they must sort of jump forward, and the instant before they release their grip on the tree, their tail tilts them forward. They still must have to reach out and grasp the tree, and the distance traveled per jump is pretty short. Nuthatches have it a little more complicated, as they don’t rest on their tail. As a matter of fact, they have hardly any tail at all. To compensate for this when foraging they keep one foot a little ahead of the other and the rear foot acts like the tail of a woodpecker, but with the added feature that it can grip. The Nuthatch then can fight gravity with its strong legs in either the head up or head down position. Our Nuthatches usually stay around here all winter but may move if the food supply gets too low. This time of year Nuthatches are usually in the company of Chickadees and a Downy or so and sometimes an erratic Brown Creeper. I used to see them with Golden-crowned Kinglets, but Kinglets don’t seem to be as common as they once were. Red-breasted Nuthatches readily come to feeders and love sunflower seeds and suet. Nuthatches haven’t learned to hold a sunflower seed to a branch with their feet and whack at it like chickadees. They wedge the seed under a piece of bark then whack at it there. Nuthatches also store seeds for future use. They store these under bark or in stumps or any place handy, and somehow remember most of these hiding places.
By early May the Red-breasted nuthatches will pair up and make a small cavity in a dead tree and start to raise a new generation. Just outside of the cavity entrance the nuthatch usually smears pitch from a pine or spruce, apparently to deter predators or any other unwelcome company. They supposedly will nest in birdhouses, but I’ve never seen any evidence of this in the many birdhouses I have put up. But I’ll try again this year.
SPRING REALLY IS COMING!
Watch the Blue Jays feeding each other. This is a sign of courtship, as is their call. Listen for the ‘squeaky clothesline’ call.
Quoddy Nature Notes – Food
Foods
by Fred Gralenski
With the wind howling and the snow beating against the windows as I sit at the computer, I feel it’s a good time to write about the selected subject, especially since the New Year’s resolutions are now safely forgotten. Most of us know that we eat too much of the wrong stuff, but that must be the curse of this country for being too rich. But it’s cold and going to get colder. I need a little more fat to stay warm.
As I day dream, especially this time of year, I marvel at the pre-Columbian Native Americans and their diet, which seemed to consist of anything available. A recent article in the paper reported finding evidence of the oldest known dog in this hemisphere and about 9400 years ago it had served as the entrée for a meal down in what is now Texas. The early Europeans reporting on the natives here in New England stated that each family typically had a about a half dozen dogs. Dogs were very useful in hunting, and also a sign of wealth, but the owners might slaughter one for a celebration of some notable event. When I lived in northern New Hampshire I read the story of Metallak, an Indian who lived in the area many years prior to me. He lived in a cabin on an island in Lake Umbagog, and his food was mostly just fish and wild game, and probably an occasional dog. Modern dietitians would be horrified at the poor fellow’s plight, and with no B12 vitamins or other supplements available, he only lived to be 120 years old.
Using dogs for food was relatively common even recently in Southeastern Asia, but apparently the public outcry of other (civilized?) countries silenced the reporting of such doings. In Arizona it didn’t seem to generate any opposition when a restaurant started selling tacos made from lion meat. I’ve been told that in the butcher shops in France one can purchase a butchered rabbit. That’s certainly not very common here, as I’ve never seen any in ‘Shop ‘n Save’, especially with the heads still on them. The reason for leaving the heads on is not to test the squeamish quotient of the customers but to prove that the critter is a rabbit and not a cat. Apparently cat is not recommended for Potage du jour, even with a few croutons, but in Italy a few months ago a noted chef got some bad publicity when he stated that he liked the flavor of cats, and recommended some recipes. Martha Stewart didn’t pick up on that. I like to try different foods, but I’ve never eaten cat. I read about a hunter that once ate a Bobcat he had shot. He wrote that eating the ‘Bob’ part was OK, but the ‘cat’ part was pretty difficult. I think it’s too bad that our likes and dislikes are often dictated by fashion, not by reason, or even trial and error.
Maybe we should be more like vegetarians. I have a niece who is a vegan, and she seems pretty healthy. I am getting closer to being a vegetarian in my dotage as my breakfast now is entirely grains and seeds, and my meat portions during the day are much more realistic, versus the typical one and a half pound steak, medium rare, that was the standard meal in my younger days. But maybe the Mystery Mouse in my garage that I’m trying to identify can sense that I’m still a carnivore, and thinks that I’m trying to fatten him up for a better snack, consequently he won’t come out in my presence. That little sneak! I am trying to fatten him up but only so he can’t jump out of the bucket. I wonder if he will come out if I eat tofu?
Quoddy Nature News – Outfoxed By a Mouse
by Fred Gralenski
Maine has two types of jumping mice, the Meadow Jumping mouse, Zapus hudsonius, and the Woodland Jumping mouse, Napaeozapus insignis. These are not unique to the area but are unique to the northern half of the Northern hemisphere, both here and in the old world. Jumping mice are little critters tipping the scales at an ounce for a fat one, and with fur coats of a handsome reddish honey color, a darker dorsal streak and pure white underneath. They have oversized hind legs like a kangaroo and a hind leg toe pattern that is pretty symmetrical, with the center 3 toes being the longest. Top this outfit off with a long tail of over 6 inches to stabilize them in their jumps, and you have a pretty unusual looking critter. The diet of our jumping mice is primarily seeds and a tiny but common underground fungus of the Endogone family. (Flying squirrels are also known to feed largely on this.) They will eat a lot of other stuff, depending on availability, like fruits and insects, but a study indicated their particular dislike for ladybugs and burying beetles. Jumping mice are pretty good swimmers, and the Woodland variety is also a good diver, a technique used to evade predators. The literature is full of contradictions on these critters, especially as to how far they can jump. I’ve seen Jumping mice bound away in their brushy wetland habitats, but they usually disappear after one jump, so it’s difficult to focus on them. Apparently the Woodland Jumping mouse is capable of hopping 8-10 feet in an open area, but the Meadow Jumping mouse only leaps 2-3 feet. The agreement in all of the literature seems to be that these guys are elusive, and seldom seen, although they may be pretty common in some areas. Normally, Jumping Mice just sneak around like regular mice, and only jump to escape predators.
My association with jumping mice in Pembroke started last summer. I often have problems with mice and voles in the garden. They cut down the lilies (not the common Day Lilies, but the expensive hybrids) and eat the tops of carrots, potatoes, beets, etc. I don’t mind a few thieves but if the number of these critters gets too irksome I may feel the population needs a little reduction. I don’t use poisons but I use the small mouse traps of the Victor type. These I put in little wooden boxes with mouse size entrances, so birds won’t get caught. I may or may not use bait, and the carcasses, if I’m successful, I give to the ever available bluejays. Anyway, late last summer I caught a Meadow Jumping mouse. I had never seen one here before, so after his demise I took in the traps and looked for signs of Jumping Mice. As the books say, the critters are elusive, and the books also say that they go into hibernation as early as September, so I stopped looking. Early in December, Linda got a glimpse of a mouse in the garage that she thought had a long tail. Now my garage is relatively mouseproof, but a door is often open so a critter can sneak in, and this time of year it’s usually a Deer mouse. I put out the typical trap: a five gallon plastic bucket with a dozen or so sunflower seeds in the bottom, and that was the start of an interesting experiment. I wanted to see the Jumping Mouse in action, and the best way to do that was to get him familiar with me, if indeed there was a Jumping mouse in my garage. As of this writing, and it has been over a month since I put out the bucket, I have caught one Deer mouse (see picture) as they can’t jump out of the bucket, but no Mystery Mouse. The little rascal gets into the bucket and most often eats the one or two dozen seeds in the bucket and leaves the shells, but sometimes he takes the seeds and he must hide them somewhere. He is mostly nocturnal, but will dine in the day if that suits him, and his timing is random. I have sat out in the cold garage with the camera at the ready, but so far I have not caught even a fleeting glimpse of him. He has taught me to clean the empty shells out of the bucket at least 2 or 3 times a day and put in a small handful of sunflower seeds afterwards, which I dutifully do. And the experts say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. HAH!
Deer mouse that I caught in the bucket. Be careful in handling these as they can bite, although they seldom do.
Quoddy Nature Notes – Eels
Eels
Eels are slimy, sinister looking things that are in our rivers and lakes. Although eels are claimed to be edible by people from some weird cultures, most folks from the Quoddy region despise them and wish they would be elsewhere. I heard of one lady who tried to please her husband by preparing a dish of sautéed Eel Risotto. She got so far as to cut the eel into 3 inch pieces, lightly floured, then was carefully sautéing the pieces in a large cast iron frying pan in some olive oil when she got so thoroughly disgusted with the whole process that she threw everything out, pan and all. What is it about this critter that generates such emotion?
The American eel, Anguilla rostrata, was once thought to be the only catadromous fish in North America, that is, the only fish that would breed in salt water and live in fresh water. However, scientists have determined that the clever eel really has the option of living a catadromous life if it so chooses, and can happily survive in the briny and thumb its nose at our messed up rivers. I don’t know the use of this quality as the eel can survive in very polluted waters. When I was growing up in the 40’s and 50’s, some of our entertainment and foodstuffs came from the Connecticut River. A typical summer evening, after chores and supper and with weather permitting, was down to the confluence of the Millers River and the Connecticut River and hope no one had usurped our favorite fishing ledge. If not we would slather up in 6-12 bug repellent, get out our old telescoping metal poles and bait (generally worms) and start fishing. Our quarry was mostly panfish like rockbass, but a half hour after sundown we would switch to heavy hand lines with big hooks and sinkers and fish parts for bait, with the intention of getting bullhead and eels. This was when the rivers were at their peak of pollution. The many paper mills spewed out all sorts of waste pulp and the chemicals involved, and each day the river smelled and looked differently, with different scum and foam. I never fully realized that a medium sized 2½ foot eel was probably hatched out 30 years prior in the depths of the Sargasso sea a few hundred miles east of Bermuda and drifted with the Gulf Stream and came up the toxic Connecticut river as an elver and negotiated a half dozen dams in Connecticut and another half dozen in Massachusetts before approaching adulthood when I caught him for my supper. Maybe the toxicity of my ingesting these critters twisted my system so that I viewed them with tolerance, but it would seem that after over twenty years of detox in Vacationland I should be relatively detoxified, and I still think eels are pretty neat. Eels have gills but can breathe through their skin, like amphibians, and can live out of water indefinitely if kept moist. Eels seem to mature by size, and those in salt or brackish water (usually the males) grow faster because of more available food, and mature quicker. Normally, after becoming an adult in 8 to 40 years, eels put on fat in preparation for spawning, and since they do not eat during their spawning and they are programmed to expire soon afterwards, their digestive system degenerates. If they are prevented from spawning their digestive system regenerates, and a caged eel has been recorded as living over 80 years. Adult eels were harvested commercially in the Quoddy Region, but by the 1980’s the industry appears to have died out. I have a slip from F.R.Neal, a fish dealer in Eastport, who bought 270 lbs of eels for $35.10 in 9/14/1944. Native Americans harvested eels, especially in the fall when they were migrating and plump, and relished them smoked. Squanto apparently brought many eels to the Pilgrims of the Mayflower for the first Thanksgiving celebration. The European acceptance of eels is varied, and some countries consume them enthusiastically, while others, like here, almost completely reject the thought of eating an eel. The solution for having a hatchery for eels has been tried unsuccessfully for many years, and there are rumors of success, but as of this writing I have heard nothing certain. Just think, with the right publicity, maybe eels could be the new fashion for Thanksgiving Dinner. I doubt that even the most fashion conscious folks here in the Quoddy region will ever abandon turkey.
Quoddy Nature Notes – Yellowlegs
I knew from the distance that it was a Greater Yellowlegs. The old time market hunters called him the ‘Tell-Tale’, the wary bird that would loudly call out his ‘Teeoo, teeoo, teeoo, teeoo’ and alert every other bird around as he flew out of range. I figured I would play the wind and position my kayak upwind of him and if I judged everything right the breeze would nudge me into the range of my Nikon Coolpix . At 100 feet he was getting noticeably nervous, but then an immature Merlin came zipping down at him. The Yellowlegs cried out and flew towards me and landed behind a rock as the Merlin flew up to a nearby dead tree and waited. The Merlin apparently wanted his would-be dinner to take flight. Although the Yellowlegs is a good flier, it is no match for the Merlin, but somehow the Yellowlegs knew this and felt safer on the ground within 25 feet from me. I watched him through my viewfinder and snapped a few pictures until the Merlin tired of the game and left. Even then the Yellowlegs refused to fly, and clumsily swam back to his original breakfast spot on the shore. I thanked him for the little visit and paddled off looking for some other adventures in nature.
The Greater Yellowlegs, Tringa melanoleuca, is relatively common here in the Quoddy region this time of year. As its name implies, it has long yellow legs, and is more wary than its smaller cousin who is half the weight and a couple of inches shorter. My Yellowlegs probably nested on the ground in some remote muskeg bog in Northern Canada, and is heading south to spend the winter anywhere from southern US to Brazil or Chile. It likes to forage in the mud or the shallows of fresh or salt water for critters like small fish , crustaceans or snails or anything else or the right size. Yellowlegs do not migrate in big flocks, and its southern migration will be sort of erratic and generally along the coast. Next Spring it will come ‘home’ generally by an inland route like the Mississippi Flyway, and somehow find his or her last year’s spouse. There are an estimated 100,000 Yellowlegs in North America and their breeding grounds range in a band from Newfoundland to the Pacific coast. Nuttal, reporting in 1891, wrote that Yellowlegs nested in the Midwest as far south as Iowa and Southern Illinois. Yellowlegs are native to North America, but have been spotted in Europe, Asia and Africa.
In the days of the market hunters the preferred table fare was Plover, Dowitcher, Yellowlegs and Eskimo Curlew. By 1850 the populations of these birds dropped dramatically, and the market hunter went after the ‘Peeps’, like Dunlins and Sandpipers, but still pursued the bigger birds if available. This was done with decoys and whistles and it was noted “…the Yellowlegs can be called as far as the hunter’s whistle can be heard, and it is seldom they refuse to be drawn to their destruction.” By the early 1900’s a movement was started to protect shorebirds and Forbush (1912) noted that “…protection that (Yellowlegs) receive on Anticosti Island has done much to keep up the numbers of those which migrate through New England.” President Wilson in 1918 emphasized the rulings of migratory game birds and by 1927 the Greater Yellowlegs was protected from hunting, and their numbers seem to be slightly increasing.
So is my Yellowlegs home free? No siree! He has to worry about all sorts of pesticides, habitat destruction, mutant viruses, Peregrine falcons, Merlins, habitat destruction and if the old lady will remember to jog left over Wisconsin so they can meet up in Saskatchewan. Jeez! Why last year she got to gossiping with her cousin and came home over a week late after ending up somewhere in Ontario.
Maine Nature News – Water Lilies
QUODDY NATURE NOTES
by Fred Gralenski
Things were getting a little out of hand in August. I like Maine the way it’s supposed to be, sort of cool and damp. However it seemed a little degrading that we needed tropical storm Earl to bring much needed rain to the Quoddy region. Well, Earl is a good Maine name, and we had to have rain, so I suppose it’s OK. Along with my admiration of water is my admiration of plants that grow there, and pretty high up on my list is the water lilies. We typically have two kinds of water lilies in the ponds and swamps around here: the white Fragrant Water Lily Nymphaea odorata and the Yellow Pond Lily Nuphar lutea. The latter flower had several species and associated scientific names, but apparently N. lutea is now the one.
Alas, the season of our Fragrant Water lily is almost over. In the early summer on some calm day kayaking on a shallow pond like Great Works in Edmunds, if the bugs aren’t too bothersome, the scent is very agreeable. Thoreau, in one of his many journals, wrote that he thought the sensation was, “…as wholesome as the odor of a cow.” I usually agree pretty much with what Thoreau wrote, and generally I like the scent of any animal (except a dog that has found something really scanky to roll in), but comparing the odor of a water lily to a cow is a stretch. Maybe the redeeming word is ‘wholesome’. By mid afternoon even on sunny days the water lilies close up their blossoms, as if they don’t want to welcome any evening or night critters. They are visited during the day by a host of pollinating bees and other insects, but may be very initially visited by a resident long horned leaf beetle that is thought to cause self fertilization of the lily. Some scientists consider this process as a backup to normal cross pollination. Water lilies also have some other tricks. All green plants need to breath, to ‘inhale’ carbon dioxide, and by way of photosynthesis, produce food. Terrestrial plants do this with tiny pores on the bottom of their leaves called ‘stomata’, and water lilies have the stomata on the top of their leaves to accomplish the same thing. Scientists investigating water lilies have determined that the age of the leaves give them different jobs in the lifestyle of the plant and the younger leaves do most of the inhaling to supply the rhizome (which is usually sunk in anaerobic muck) with air and the older leaves do most of the exhaling. Another aspect of the leaves is why are they always round? Some theories are that terrestrial plants have better luck at shaking off insect pests and have evolved with leaf forms to better accomplish this. Water lily leaves are more subject to abuse from waves and airborne projectiles, so apparently a round shape is more rugged and satisfactory under those conditions. The lily leaves also need to float. Another feature is that the Fragrant Water lily and the Yellow Pond Lily usually don’t exist together. It is thought that temperature, pH, disturbance and oxygen concentration may be factors.
And finally, are these plants good for anything besides show? The big rhizomes are eaten by muskrats, moose and it seems like anything else that can get them. Native Americans pounded the roots into a mush and used that as a poultice for bruises and swollen limbs. Harvested in the fall, the rhizomes are rich in carbohydrates and used as a flour when dried. They can be boiled like potatoes, but must be rinsed and cooked several times to rid them of the bitter tannins. The young leaves can be cooked as a green vegetable in the spring, but one reference stated that the Yellow Pond Lily may accumulate toxic levels of cadmium under some conditions. That was probably downstream from where they dumped the last load of Ni-cad batteries when they changed to Lithium-ion.
Maine Nature Notes – Mummichogs
QUODDY NATURE NOTES
by Fred Gralenski
Earlier in the summer I happened to be going over the stone arch bridge in Pembroke and I noticed a fellow netting something in the tide pools. Being of the curious sort (nosy?), I stopped to see what he was trying to catch. “Tomcods”, he said in an unmistakable Maine accent as he showed me his prizes, “best bait going, for almost anything in fresh and salt water.” I admired the little fish, chatted a bit, then drove off, a little puzzled. I thought I knew some fish, and when I got home I checked my references, but that led to further confusion. When reference books and Google fail, the next step is to catch one of the little rascals (which I did with some difficulty), take his picture and email it off to Dr Brian Beal of the Downeast Institute, and a couple of days later I had my answer. “You have,” Dr. Beal wrote, “the ubiquitous Mummichog”. That was probably what the first fellow was trying to tell me. His accent, processed through a hearing aid that cost more than the down payment of my first house, could easily have turned ‘Mummichog’ into ‘Tomcod’.
Mummichogs are a neat little fish that may grow up to five inches long. They live on the east coast of North America from Newfoundland to Texas, and probably never stray more than 100 yards from land. They like the company of their own kind and other fish of about the same size, as the name ‘Mummichog’ is apparently derived from Native American words which mean something like, ‘swimming in crowds’. There are several species of Mummichogs, and the common ones around the Quoddy region here are Fundulus heteroclitus, with possibly a subspecies and variant. Fisheries biologists are still debating this. Here in the Quoddy region our Mummichogs have just finished breeding and the males have lost most of their vivid coloration. During the spawning season the males are a bright yellow underneath with prominent vertical stripes on their sides, while the females remain a pale olive color on top and white below. Female Mummichogs deposit their clutch of 10 – 300 eggs up in the detritus of the high tide mark of a full or new moon. They mix their eggs in with and underneath the vegetation and mussel shells where they won’t be excessively dried out. The eggs develop in this environment and on the next high tide a couple of weeks later the eggs hatch, and the youngsters form their own crowd. Mummichogs may spawn many times after they becoming adults in two years, but the spawning activity must be rigorous because few live beyond three years of age. In winter Mummichogs are generally pretty sedentary and may stay at the bottoms of the deeper pools or burrow down in the mud. They are an amazingly hardy fish. Mummichogs can tolerate salinities from freshwater to over three times the normal salinity of ocean water and they can stand low oxygen content and high levels of pollution like the PCB’s and other industrial toxins found amid the operations of typical coastal commerce. They have been known to migrate out of an area if it is so foul that it is bereft of food, and they have been stocked in polluted stagnant pools to eliminate mosquitoes, which they do handily. The Mummichog was also the first fish in space on Skylab 3 in 1973. It seemed to learn how to tolerate zero gravity, but I could never understand how its buoyancy control could function. Did it swim upside down or on its side and how could it tell? Nothing worse than a smart-alecky fish, but I’ll tolerate that if they help bring back life in some of the salt marshes in the Gulf of Mexico that took a hit from the BP oil spill.
Quoddy Nature Notes – Burying Beetles
A couple of weeks ago I left a 5 gallon bucket outside the cellar door and an unfortunate Deer mouse investigated it and fell in. By the time I needed the bucket the mouse had met his demise, and the carcass had attracted some blow flies and a red and black beetle. I went to get my camera, but the beetle had left. I suspected it was a burying beetle and did some cursory study on them, and found them interesting, and decided to try a little experiment. I put 4-5 inches of dirt in the bucket and put the dead mouse on top. In one day the mouse was buried. I knew it was a burying beetle, and I carefully dug up the little rascal and took his picture, then put him back to his living room, kitchen, boudoir and nursery as best I could. I did identify the genus as Nicrophorus, but none of my references could tell the species. An email to ‘Beetle Bob’ of the Maine Entomological Society and I got the answer, and I was off and running with this column.
According to ‘Beetle Bob’, we have 6 to 8 different species of burying beetles here in Maine. My beetle was N. orbicollis, and these are the most common here. Lots of the genus Nicrophorus are colored orange and black but only orbicollis has a circular ‘pronotum’, which is the chunk of beetle armor between its head and abdomen. My beetle is a marvel of chemical engineering in both production and sensing. Using his hi-gain clubbed antennae each with its three orange apical segments he can detect a dead carcass over a mile away. When he finds his treasure and checks that everything is OK and that there are no competitors, he gets out his chemistry set and mixes up a batch of pheromones and summons the missus. She gets the signal from up to a mile away and comes flying in and they set up housekeeping. The first order of business after mating is to secure the food supply and the two of them will work together and bury the carcass. In the process the male again gets out his chemistry set and produces an antibiotic to delay the decaying of the carcass. Within two days after arriving the female will lay her eggs not on the buried carcass but nearby in the soil. The eggs hatch in about 2 days and the larvae are fed by both adult beetles. The adults eat the carrion and regurgitate the food for the larva, as the larvae apparently have weak and ineffective mouthparts. (I can visualize the family. “Gee Ma. Are we going to have upchucked mouse again tonight? We had that last night.”) The number of offspring is somewhat determined by the size of the carcass. If the carcass is deemed too small to provide enough sustenance for the number of eggs hatched, the parents will limit the number of larvae by a grisly process called filial cannibalism and kill some of their offspring. After about a week Daddy will leave, and shortly thereafter the well fed larvae (If they like upchucked mouse) will go off into the surrounding soil to pupate, at which time Mom will also leave. After about two weeks the youngsters will finish their process and emerge as adult burying beetles. It is probably too late in the season for them to set up housekeeping this year, but they will seek out carrion and dung for food until the cold weather comes, then they will hibernate. In 2011 the generation of beetles hatched in my bucket will emerge in the spring and if they are successful in finding the right carrion they may produce two or more broods. None of my references gave a lifespan for these critters, but I would guess about two years max. N.orbicollis ranges along the east coast from Canada down to Florida, out to Texas and up to North Dakota. I always wondered why in the nursery rhyme, “Who Killed Cock Robin?” the Beetle volunteered to make the shroud? I think he was playing it sneaky and let Mr. Owl do the heavy digging, but Mr. Beetle was planning other things.
Quoddy Nature Notes – Beans
QUODDY NATURE NOTES
by Fred Gralenski
I like to raise beans (green beans) in my garden. It seems that home-grown beans, even if they’re frozen, taste better than the store-boughten ones. I don’t know why. Is it the sweat involved? Usually beans are pretty well behaved, that is, you plant them and they grow with no fuss, and you just weed them enough so that they get a little ahead of the weeds and let them be until they’re big enough to pick. This is especially true with pole beans, and I usually raise pole and bush beans because the bush beans are generally earlier. This year my reliable beans rebelled. I prepared the garden by careful rototilling and planted them after Memorial Day, just like always. The weeds did spectacularly, but no beans. June eleventh; repeat previous procedure, and a couple of weeks later I again have my spectacular weeds, but this time some beans. It’s always a question how well to weed the garden. The weeds obviously use up some of the nutrients, but they offer some protection from the rabbits. Rabbits like weeds, but they really love bean sprouts. A nice neat ten foot row of four inch bean sprouts is a gift from rabbit heaven, but mix that up with some lamb’s quarters, amaranth and sorrel (which you don’t have to plant), throw in some rabbits and some of the beans will survive to picking size.
Green beans, or string beans, (Phaseolus vulgaris) are native to the new world. Columbus found the natives growing them when he arrived, and it is estimated that the Native Americans first cultivated beans about 6000 years ago. The agricultural staples of the First Americans were beans, squash and corn (maize), and these were frequently grown together, as the beans provided some of the needed nitrogen, especially for the corn; the corn provided a framework for the beans to grow on and the squash provided some protection for the other two plants. Bush beans were unknown to the Native Americans. Bush beans were developed relatively recently for commercial operations, where the whole crop is ready to be picked at one time, and pole beans are considered better for the home garden in that they take up less ground space, are easier picking and produce over a longer period of time. Beans were also developed in the Near East and in the Mediterranean area, probably about 8000 years ago. These are a different type of bean , known as the ‘Broad bean’ Vicia faba, and an example is the ‘fava’ bean. There are hundreds of varieties of beans, and they are a valuable food worldwide. Beans are so widespread that they have even worked their way into some common descriptions, like some senseless item, idea or a procedure ‘doesn’t amount to a hill of beans’, or ‘to spill the beans’ is to give away secrets, or a ‘beancounter’ is usually a middlemanager or bureaucrat performing a useless job.
All ‘green’ beans can be left to ripen on the vine and dried out and stored, but certain varieties are recommended. Red kidney beans are probably the most common, but dried Red Kidney beans contain a toxin called ‘Phytohaemagglutnin’. The symptom of this poison is gastric distress 1-3 hours after ingesting and may be quite severe, but complete and spontaneous recovery usually occurs within 4 hours. These tasty beans can be rendered safe for consumption by following some simple precautions that are almost inherent: 1. Soak the beans in fresh water for at least 5 hours (I always wondered why this was done); 2. Change water and boil for at least 10 minutes. Boiling appears to be necessary, as problems arose in England with casseroles made in slow cookers that did not reach full boiling temperatures.
So I’ll casually tend my bean crop and thank the Bean god that Japanese beetles haven’t found my part of the Quoddy region yet, and wonder why my pole beans vines always wrap around the bean pole with a clockwise pattern. Do beans grown south of the Equator wrap the other way? I guess I really don’t know beans.
Quoddy Nature Notes – Puddle Critters
By Fred Gralenski
I like water. Not because I’m especially clean, but where there is water there is usually a good supply of critters for me to marvel at. Now where I live I have a good opportunity to study that big piece of water that stretches over to the old world, but that puddle is overwhelming. For one thing it keeps moving up and down. I know the basics of why it does this, but not the particulars, and I know a little of some of the critters, but WOW! The concept of the whole system and the interactions of the plants and animals are just so mind boggling that one must take leave of the ocean periodically and watch something simpler, like freshwater pools. I think it was with this in mind that soon after we moved to Pembroke we built a few small puddles on our property. I mean what could be simpler than watching a hole fill up with water? HAH! After 15 years I’m still confused. Why did the wood frogs prosper in one pond for a few years then leave? Why do the cattails threaten to take over three of the ponds but have not appeared in the biggest? How did the bladderwort get in one pond and not the others? I also do a little observing elsewhere. Why are there so many leeches in Dudley swamp in the Baring division of Moosehorn? Why are there only two ponds with fairy shrimp in that whole area, and how did they get there? And lastly, how did the fingernail clams get into the roadside ditches of Leighton Point Road?
Fingernail clams, probably of the Pisidium genus. Backdrop is a paper clip.
Few people but lots of ducks realize that fingernail clams exist at all. There are about 21 species of these bivalves that live in the puddles, ponds, lakes, streams and rivers in New England, however here in the Quoddy region we only have a few species. The available literature is scarce because the clams are of seemingly little economic value. The clams that I found are probably of the Pisidium genus. They have a reasonably good tolerance of the roadside pollution, that is, the salt and oil fumes that go with the location. There are often enough survivors after a standard roadside ditching disturbance to maintain a viable population, providing it is not too severe and the puddle returns. These clams are very similar in shape to the hard shell clam Mercenaria mercenaria, only much smaller. Like any other clam they have a foot for limited mobility and dual siphons for water intake and exhaust. They eat algae and any other teeny tiny critters that they can filter out. Fingernail clams propagate sexually and reach maturity in only a year or two depending on conditions, but can survive long periods of hibernation if the puddle dries up. Under the right conditions, typically in early summer, they will spawn, and the females will send out eggs into the water to be fertilized by the males. There is no larval stage for fingernail clams, and when the eggs hatch they look like very tiny adults, and quickly settle in to the happy life of being a clam. This Eden is often messed up by predatory insects, like dragonfly larva or diving beetles, or by ducks. Ducks, like Mallards or Blacks, find fingernail clams especially yummy. It is interesting to watch ducks work the mud and shores harvesting any and all available food. They will stick their beak into the substrate and, with a clever motion of their beak and tongue, the slurry is pumped up and the solids are filtered out and the water goes out the sides of their beak. However ducks do help fingernail clams find new territory. Fingernail clams are sort of sticky and will adhere to the feathers and legs of ducks and get a free ride to some remote pond or roadside ditch and set up a new population for some naturalist to ponder.
Lupine stem loaded with aphids. Where are all those Lady Beetles I boarded all winter?
Quoddy Nature Notes – Spring Wrap Up
Here it is, June, so spring in the Quoddy region is essentially over. Now is the time to take a deep breath, stand back a bit from the clutter of ongoing projects, both physical and mental, and wonder, “What happened?”
Our spring arrived early this year, and the leaves and flowers followed suit. The amphibian walks suggested to me that this generation of wood frogs would be less than normal. Although they started early, the calling season was short and the egg mass numbers were low. The successful wood frog tadpoles have already left their ponds. Toad numbers seem to be normal as they typically call for about a week; peepers have only a few romantic stragglers still calling, and the gray tree frogs are gearing up. Spotted salamanders eggs were common, but a high percentage of the eggs seem to be non-viable. Fortunately, these guys live for upwards of thirty years, so most will be able to try again next year. Turtles are out looking for good nesting sites and are currently being spotted on the roads. It is sometimes tricky to determine which direction they are going, but try to carefully get them out of the way of traffic. The Painted turtle will usually get off the road with a little coaxing but if you have to pick it up remember they have a tendency to pee on anyone that handles them. Snapping turtles are more obstinate and often get pretty defensive when you try to help them. I usually put a hat over the snapping end and carry them to the roadside where I thought they were headed, but be careful. Don’t carry turtles by their tail, as this could result in injuries that may be fatal. Snakes can usually be coaxed off the road with no handling, but if you come upon a big watersnake in the Big Lake/Pocomoonshine area, remember these guys, while not poisonous, can give you a memorable chomp. All reptiles, dead or alive and everywhere in between, are potential carriers of Salmonella, so use caution. I’m interested in all of these critters, especially the big ones.
It looks like we will have a good crop of slugs, but the black flies, in the too few times that I have been out checking, have not been particularly hungry. The bigger maneaters: deerflies, mooseflies and horseflies, are just starting to show. We have had a couple of minor ant hatches but have not yet been inundated with them. Carpenter ants consider log homes, especially those off in the woods, as their favorite gingerbread house, so we must be ever alert. This spring has been a much more productive period for the Maine Butterfly Survey, as the Canadian Tiger Swallowtails, Sulphurs and others are showing up in good numbers. If you want to learn about the dragonflies that are making their appearances now, Dr. Ron Butler, Professor of Ecology at UMF, will be giving a course about the local Odonata at the Humboldt Field Research Institute from July 4th to July 10th. On an expected but sad note in regards to insects, Emily passed away a couple of weeks ago. A quiet spinster she never complained and when I put her weekly ration of half an apple core and sometimes an over ripe grape in her Coolwhip mansion her antennae seemed to quiver with anticipation.
Our raven family with their two noisy brats have left. They will probably be back periodically to check out the stump where I leave the table scraps in the morning. I don’t mind the ravens and bluejays and even the skunks but the raccoons are an intelligent nuisance, and can get into lots of mischief. The robin family living on the ledge on the barn is still incubating, and no little heads are looking up yet. There are lots of robins around this year. The bobolinks are also more numerous, but there are fewer kestrels. The hummingbirds arrived a week late, but are making up for lost time, and so far we’ve had to rescue three of them when I’ve inadvertently left a door open in the barn.
So that’s the news from South Pembroke, where all the critters are well behaved. If you believe that I’ve got a bridge to Campobello I can sell you, complete with a Homeland Security facility.
Quoddy Nature Notes – Lupine
QUODDY NATURE NOTES
by Fred Gralenski
Our lupine season is coming up shortly, so get ready. One of the fun things about writing this column is selecting a subject and researching it with the available references, such as, but not limited to, books, encyclopedias, online references, friends, and my own fading memory. An interesting aspect of this is uncovering some of the confusion and contradictions. Science eventually develops a solid footing, but things are always changing, and so it is with the common lupine, and I am forced to use a lot of words like apparently and maybe. But I like to think that the purpose of this column is to stimulate a little interest, throw in a little attempt at humor, and if you disagree, let’s argue this out. I’ve never lost a wrestling match yet. Of course, I’m the referee.
There are upwards of 600 species of lupines worldwide. The state flower of Texas is the lupine, and this was first approved in 1901. There seemed to be a lack of mutual understanding as to which lupine was the one selected or desired and in 1971 five varieties of lupines were recognized as the symbols of the Lone Star State. The confusion doesn’t end there. One of my references states that Texas has only 4 species of lupines, and there seems to be a disagreement of the spelling of the scientific name of one of the species. The Texans appear have the same ongoing problem with school books. The biggest lupine is a tree that grows in Mexico, Lupinus jaimehintoniana. This giant stretches over 25 feet high to welcome the sun and the branches are supported by a trunk 8 inches in diameter. The genus name Lupinus was selected because it was once thought that lupines would ravage the soil like a pack of wolves. However lupines are legumes and fix atmospheric nitrogen to the soil, and thus are a benefit to all plants. In Europe, especially in the Mediterranean area, some types of lupines are grown for animal forage and also for human consumption. In North America it seems that all native lupines contain toxic alkaloids to some degree. Out west many sheep and cattle, after eating lupines, are inflicted with a condition called lupinosis, which is often fatal, especially to sheep. Lupines are also at times infected with a poisonous fungus that can further aggravate the unfortunate livestock.
Here in Maine and especially in the Quoddy region, many people await the sight of a field of lupines, and their mostly blue but also pink and white spires are enjoyed across the state, and there is sort of a contest as to where is the best field of lupines. A few years ago there was almost a rebellion and a march of protest to Acadia National Park when it was learned that park officials intended to eliminate the beloved lupines. The reason for this endeavor was that roadside lupines are not native and might be undesirable, but fortunately the protesters won, and at present roadside lupines are not persecuted by Acadian officials. The native wild lupine of Maine, Lupinus perennis, looks similar to the roadside lupine, except it is only blue, but, alas, it is extirpated from Maine. This lupine is grown in a site in New Hampshire and is relatively common in Newfoundland and places further south. The common roadside lupine we see and admire is apparently an introduced lupine from the Northwest, L. polyphyllus, and although it is considered invasive, it is somewhat benign. We have a lot of these lupines growing around our house, but what I really don’t like about them is that nothing eats them except aphids. Supposedly L. perennis is eaten by woodchucks and rabbits, but my lupines are definitely avoided by my rabbits. Maybe our rabbits are just too uppity, or perhaps those rascally rabbits want to annoy Linda by eating her lilies.
Quoddy Nature Notes – Spring Stuff
by Fred Gralenski
In case you haven’t noticed, spring has come to the Quoddy region. I like spring. After I get over being in an April 15th funk, I like to rake the gravel off the grass, smooth the dirt on my driveway and get to play with my tractor, pick up the rocks that have popped up, and work in my woods collecting and processing next winter’s firewood and sawlogs. I usually do most of the latter in the winter, but it is a yearly job since the weather dictates what trees get blown over. This past winter was mild, and the ground didn’t freeze very hard with the one big snowstorm that we had. Looking over my journal for 2009, the last pile of snow in the yard melted on May 5th; over a month later than this year.
Most of the flowers are a couple of weeks ahead of last year, as they are largely dependent on temperature. The Mayflowers, or Trailing arbutus, are already past their peak even though it’s only the beginning of May. Other flowers, like Shadbush, Hobblebush, cherry, violets and Rhodora seem to be similarly ahead of a normal schedule, and the ubiquitous dandelion really likes the Quoddy region this year. Insects also like the warmer temperatures, and the bees are common in the flowers. Most of the bees now are the small solitary bees, probably of the genus Andrena. These are our earliest bees and are frequently seen buttered up with pollen from the flowers like dandelion and Forsythia. The Andrena spp. are also called mining bees because they generally live in the ground. Among these many bees on the early flowers can be noticed an odd looking, fuzzy, long legged thing that likes to hover close to the flowers while sipping nectar. This is the Bee fly Bombylius major. They like to eat nectar like a real bee but don’t like to set up housekeeping to raise a family. They lay an egg at the entrance of a solitary bee’s tunnel and the hatched Bee fly larva crawls inside and sets up shop on the skin of the solitary bee larva. The Bee fly proceeds to suck the innards out of the Solitary bee larva without making a visible wound. The insect version of drastic liposuction.
Butterflies are also coming onstage. Some butterflies like the Mourning Cloak and Commas overwinter as adults and may make a real early appearance. Some, like the pesty Cabbage White (see picture), may overwinter as a pupae and emerge by the middle of April to be our commonest butterfly around here, and some, like the Red Admiral, are appearing now on their migrations from further south. This season is much different from last year, when the cold, wet spring delayed or eliminated many butterflies in our area.
Critters that are not so dependent on temperature are the snowshoe hares. The varying ratio of sunlight to darkness triggers their color change from white to brown, and the majority have mostly changed. There doesn’t seem to be a fixed ratio for all individuals, as Mother Nature apparently is always adjusting, and during the color transition period a pretty dark brown rabbit may be seen alongside a white one.
And, of course, the birds. Back in April 29th I saw my first momma Timberdoodle with four ‘doodlets. Our Ravens are back and this year and are using the same nest as they did last year. At 50 yards from the house they couldn’t get much closer, but after three years they still aren’t trusting enough for me to get a good picture. Our ravens must have young by now, but the nest is 50 feet up in a slender spruce and way beyond my ability to peek. Some Black ducks in one of our ponds seemed interested in setting up housekeeping, but they also are not trusting. The most colorful birds, the warblers and their ilk, are just starting to arrive, and some of us will spy on their arrival on May 22nd at Moosehorn. If you can make it for 6:30AM you are all welcome to come and join us.
Quoddy Nature Notes – Water
Water
by Fred Gralenski
I’m a big fan of water. I’ve gone through my share of leaky roofs, flooded basements and I have been caught out in downpours in my Sunday finest (i.e., dungarees and a flannel shirt less than five years old), but I still love the stuff. If I get my druthers, I’ll be reincarnated as a wood frog in some non-descript vernal pool somewhere in the Quoddy region.
Water is very important to life, and here on earth anywhere there is liquid water the odds of finding some sort of life in the vicinity are close to 100 percent. Any signs of water in any form on our moon or on Mars ratchet up the interest of biologists, but so far no alien critters or plants have been discovered. Water is an amazing compound even without considering its necessity for life. It is the universal solvent and is used for everything from making atomic bombs to flushing toilets. Water has tremendous latent heat characteristics in its phase changes from solid to liquid and especially from liquid to vapor. When a pound of water (about a pint) freezes, it releases about 144 BTU’s, but it takes the same amount of heat to thaw the ice to a liquid. It takes about 976 BTU’s to evaporate a pound of water and when it condenses back to a liquid it releases the same amount of energy. In this manner our recent rains involved a tremendous exchange of energy. The condensing energy released by one inch of rain falling over one square mile is equivalent to burning over 8,000 cords of Red maple, and no carbon involved. Of course, it took the same amount of energy to evaporate that water to make the clouds, whether it was the sun beating down on the Gulf of Mexico or sea smoke in Cobscook Bay on some frigid January morning. Water is also an interesting filter of light, depending on whether it is liquid or vapor. As a former diver I know that the red portion of the spectrum decreases quickly with depth. I remember taking pictures of some drab looking stuff at 60 feet and finding out later that the critter was a bright red color. I could never figure out the advantage of why something was colored down there. Water vapor filters light differently. ‘Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning’ indicates rainy weather is imminent. Supposedly the red portion of the spectrum passes through the water vapor, and that’s what we see, and the other colors are suppressed by the high humidity.
Water in its liquid form makes earth, the blue planet, unique in the visible cosmos. Its capacity to dissolve gases and solids and characteristics such as viscosity, wetting ability and surface tension give water a capability of supplying everything from the smallest organism to the giant redwood trees with canopies several hundred feet above the forest floor. In the green leaves the magic of photosynthesis breaks apart water and makes oxygen and hydrocarbons. Of course water doesn’t know about us and can play some sneaky tricks. For example, when it is hot out, high humidity slows down evaporation from our skin and makes us feel uncomfortably hot; when it’s cold out humid air is more efficient at conducting heat away from us and everyone from here knows the ‘raw’ feel. Water vapor is lighter than air, but in a closed environment condensing (and mildew) will occur at the lower levels, because of lower temperatures.
So although I don’t wish for a deluge, I welcome the April (or March) showers even if I have to patch up a few ruts in the driveway. Not only do showers really bring May flowers but my amphibians are awakening and seeking out their home pools. My sort of slipshod records indicate that this is the earliest I’ve seen Walter the Toad and his amphibian friends, so take heed and drive even more carefully at night. It’s bad luck to run over a toad, especially for the toad.
Quoddy Nature Notes – Freshwater Mussels
Since time began I called those things clams; you know, the critters that crawl around on the bottom of the local swimming hole and the kids with masks and snorkels and swim fins would bring the mollusc up for an ID. ‘That’s a clam,’ I’d say, ‘Nice one.’ The bad thing is it was really a mussel. What’s the difference between a clam and a mussel? Everyone in the Quoddy region knows the clam is a steamer, and has two fused siphons in its mantle and you peel the skin off these (the neck) before eating. With mussels you don’t have to do this. Mussels also have byssal threads for attachment, and clams don’t. Freshwater mussels have byssal threads as juveniles, but not as adults.
Watching a mussel is not very exciting but there are lots of mysteries and clever goings on in that little bivalve. For example, how did they get here? Towards the end of the last ice age, about 18,000 years ago, there was a mile or so of ice here, and no freshwater mussels. Sea level was several hundred feet lower than at present, but there were, however, mussels living in the exposed land that is now Grand Bank, Georges Bank, and the Middle Atlantic coastal plain and in the Midwest around southern Illinois and Indiana. Mussels had already developed means for long distance travel when conditions arose as the glaciers retreated. When male and female mussels spawn the eggs are held by the female and develop into larvae called glochidia. The female waits until an opportune time to release the larvae in the presence of migratory fish. The glochidia attach to the gills of the unsuspecting fish for a free ride to wherever, and colonize new territory. Mussels may parasitize several types of fish (or even amphibians) for this endeavor, but usually have a preferred host. Maine, with only 10 species of mussels, was not heavily colonized, but New York, closer to the Midwest hub of mussel diversity, has about 50 species.
Once mussels set up shop in an area, they are preyed upon by almost everything, including birds, fish, otters, raccoons and especially muskrats. It is unusual for a rodent to have such a tendency to be a carnivore, but unfortunately for the mussels. Native Americans ate freshwater mussels, especially in the Midwest. Shell middens on the Tennessee River accumulated over thousands of years and covered acres of land to a depth of over a hundred feet. Freshwater mussels were eaten by Maine Indians but not to a great extent. In my early years, working at a farm in Massachusetts in the Connecticut valley, some of my fellow workers were migrants from Haiti, and would eat the mussels from the contaminated river. I tried, but their immune system was much better than mine, and a case of vomiting and diarrhea kept me home for a couple of days.
In the early 1800’s, freshwater mussel shells were first used commercially to make buttons, and as our population grew more and more buttons were required. This industry peaked in the early 1900’s, when over 5.5 billion buttons were made annually, worth over $12,500,000. Freshwater mussels in New England tend to have thinner shells and are not good for buttons, so this industry was centered in the Midwest. With the advent of plastics about 1920 the mussel shell button industry declined, but about that time it was discovered in Asia that a small piece of grit could be inserted beneath the mantle of a marine oyster and the oyster would secrete nacreous material over this irritation and produce a pearl. It was also discovered that the best material for this piece of grit was a bead of freshwater mussel shell, and the best mussel shell came from our Midwest. This industry peaked about 1988 when about 25,000 tons of mussel shells were exported, and as recently as 10 years ago prime mussel shells from the Midwest were fetching as much as $7 per pound.
So that’s a bit about our freshwater mussels, but much, much more can be found in the “Freshwater Mussels of Maine” from the Maine DIFW. But do we have any freshwater clams in Maine? Sure do, but that’s another story. In the meantime, notice the flocks of robins, grackles, blackbirds and the Mourning cloaks and Commas and listen for the frogs.
Quoddy Nature Notes – Bon Appetit
Bon appétit
Now that we are well into 2010, most of us can, without too many pains of a well-scarred conscience, recall the New Year’s resolutions that we failed to keep. I was reminded of my neglect a while back when looking through ‘A Popular Handbook of the Birds of the United States and Canada’, by Thomas Nuttall. What was my abandoned resolution? Not to eat so much. Now what could possibly be the connection between my discarded resolution and an old birder’s handbook? Well, Thomas Nuttall, writing in the mid 1800’s, described birds not only in the way we do today (i.e. size, color, range, habitat, diet, etc.) but he frequently included their edibility, such as:
Osprey -‘…from the nature of its food, the flesh and even the eggs are rendered exceedingly rank and nauseous.’
Barred Owl – ‘…Their flesh is eaten by the Creoles of Louisiana and considered palatable… At Hudson’s Bay a large owl resembling the cinereous (probably the Great Gray owl) is likewise eaten and esteemed a delicacy.’
Meadowlark – ‘…The flesh of our bird is white and for size and delicacy it is considered a little inferior to the partridge, but that of the European is black and bitter.’
Red-winged Blackbird - ‘The flesh of this bird is but little esteemed except when young, being dark and tough like that of the starling, yet in some markets of the US they are at times exposed for sale.’
Bobolink – ‘…As soon as the cool night of October commence and as the wild rice crops begin to fail, the birds take their departure from Pennsylvania and New Jersey and in their farther progress through the southern states they swarm in the rice fields and before the crop is gathered they have already made their appearance in the islands of Cuba and Jamaica, where they feed on the seeds of the Guinea grass and become so fat as to deserve the name of “Butterbirds” and are in high esteem for the table.’
Cedar Waxwing – ‘…Like its European representative (the Waxen Chatterer), it is capable of braving a considerable degree of cold; for in Pennsylvania and New Jersey some of these birds are seen throughout the winter, where as well as in the early part of the summer and fall, they are killed and brought to market generally fat and much esteemed as food.’
Robin – ‘…Mr. Lock was engaged in fowling and wounded a robin which was claimed by a shrike. He finally shot the shrike and got his robin…Even in the vicinity of Boston, flocks of robins are seen, in certain seasons, assembling around open springs in the depth of winter, having arrived probably from the interior; and in these situations they are consequently often trapped and killed in great numbers. When feeding on cherries, poke, sassafras and sour gum berries they are so intent as to be easily approached and shot down in numbers; and when fat are justly esteemed for food and often brought to market.’
Horned Lark – ‘…During migration they are usually fat , esteemed as food and are frequently seen exposed for sale in our markets.’
Snow bunting – ‘…At times, pressed by hunger, they alight near the door of the cottage and approach the barn, or even venture into the outhouses in quest of dormant insects, seed or crumbs wherewith to allay their hunger; they are still, however, generally plump and fat, and in some countries much esteemed for the table.’
Tree swallows – ‘(After migrating to Louisiana)…the greater number resorted to the lakes and spent the night among the wax myrtle whose berries at this season afford them a support which they fatten and are then considered as excellent food.’
Flicker – ‘…In this part of New England (Boston), it is known by the name of Pigeon Woodpecker, from its general bulk and appearance; and to the disgrace of our paltry fowlers, it is in the autumn but too frequently seen exposed for sale in the markets, though its flesh is neither fat nor delicate.’
Considering that these are not even reckoned as game birds, I find it amazing that we have any birds left. Waterfowl were exploited even worse. Again from Nuttall, ‘…The islands between the small port of Little Macatine and Brador (I could not find either of these) abound with the Razor-bill and other allied marine birds whose eggs are collected by the inhabitants of Nova Scotia. For this purpose they commence by trampling on all that they find laid and the following day begin to collect those which are newly dropped, and such is the abundance of the eggs that Mr. Audubon fell in with a party of three men who, in the course of six weeks, had collected thirty thousand dozen with an estimated value of four hundred pounds sterling.’
We could improve our association with the natural world, but I think we have come a long way since the ‘good old days’, but if you want a super recipe for crow, let me know. You’ll have to hurry, as the spring season in the Quoddy region closes on March 31. FG
Quoddy Nature Notes – Seaweed
By Fred Gralenski
Many of us in the Quoddy region were drawn to the coast like characters from a Melville novel, for some reason to be here at a boundary to the unknown, dictated by salt, versus the other different ecosystems of, say, Michigan or New Mexico. Here we have a definite line of separation between land based critters and plants that generally don’t mix with the marine based critters and plants only a few feet away. But even if one is not a naturalist there seems to be a noticeable difference about the coast. Some say that part of the attraction is the scent of the tangy salt air. But salt doesn’t have any smell. The smell of the tangy salt air is due to decaying marine organisms. Are we attracted to the coast by the aroma of rotten seaweed?
The commonest seaweed that we have here is rockweed, Ascophyllum nodosum. There are many thousands of tons of the stuff growing in the intertidal zone in the Cobscook and Passamaquoddy Bays, and the harvesting of a few thousand tons has triggered a vigorous debate over the practice, monitoring, licensing, method, surcharges and overall long term and short term effects. It seems it should be simple, but a meeting in Orono and many reports and documents indicate otherwise. Rockweed is a key species in the ecology of the bays. Without rockweed just about all of the marine critters would be sorely depleted or eliminated, and clammers, wrinklers, and a host of others that make their living from the coastal waters would see their livelihood disappear. It is of the utmost importance that the rockweed remain healthy. A recent article in the Bangor Daily News by two well respected scientists, Robert L. Vadas and Brian Beal, (See Rockweed harvesting: a recipe for sustainability, BDN Feb 18, 2010) advocated for a rigorous enforcement of a harvesting method that leaves the seaweed undisturbed for at least 16 inches above the holdfast. This, the authors claim, “…would seem to meet the precautionary principle for sustainability and for providing habitat for associated species.” Pretty tricky considering the terrain where rockweed grows, but maybe something can be worked out. I would also like to see a peer reviewed study of the nutrient cycle and budget. I want to know where does all of the nutrient value of the rockweed that is naturally ‘lost’ now go? If a few thousand tons of rockweed are harvested from the bays, which species, if any, get shortchanged? The bays in the Quoddy region have high nutrient and oxygen levels and the high tides cycle twice daily to maintain a very productive ecosystem. Strangely enough, a comprehensive study indicated that the nutrients seem to follow the salinity, that is, the majority of the nutrients of Cobscook bay come from the Gulf of Maine. Does that mean that we in Cobscook bay do not have to be especially concerned about the nutrient value of the seaweed harvest, as the nutrients are just going to be flushed out to the Gulf of Maine? I don’t know. If the nutrients are ‘just flushed out’ do they just drop to the seabed of the Gulf or do they remain suspended for a considerable amount of time? If they remain suspended are they utilized by the inshore phytoplankton, which in turn are utilized by the zooplankton, which in turn are consumed by herring, which in turn are…Oh Oh. Herring stocks are down. Since 2004 the allowable catch of Atlantic herring has been reduced by half. The front page of the same BDN with the article mentioned above indicates the closing of the last remaining sardine cannery in the United States, in Prospect Harbor, Maine.
I inserted a lot of conjecture in between the hard facts. There are many ways to connect the dots. But I collected some washed up seaweed this morning. I wet down my 1’ by 3’ seed starting box, lined it with old newspaper and wet that down, then put down a 1 inch layer of seaweed. On top of that I put 2 inches of ProMix, and then I put it by the water storage tank of my wood boiler. After a day of settling and warming up I will plant my onion seeds. Spring is coming.
February, 2010
February, 2010
Saturday, January 16, Auburn (Map 11)
During the winter months these ducks call this open stream on the campus of the Parkview Medical Center home. SY
Close to 2″ of rain fell on much of the state on Monday and it caused a number of ice jams on the states rivers. My travels for the day took me through the Head Tide section of Alna where a jam had formed on the Sheepscot River causing the closing of a road earlier in the day. SY
Sunday, January 31, Rangeley (Map 28)
All winter I’ve had a flock of snow buntings at my feeder and out in the field. On Sunday afternoon, I glanced out the back window and say this flash of red. Running to the window I saw a red fox stalking the birds. By the time I got my camera and the telephoto attached the birds flew off and and the fox walked off. KB
Quoddy Nature Notes
by Fred Gralenski
What’s a ‘Bebop’? Well, many years ago, before I was reincarnated as a Mainer, I lived in New Hampshire. Even then I was interested in nature, and I would read the nature column in the Manchester Union Leader. At that time there was a casual movement to get a state-wide hunting season on Mourning doves, and the nature writer that I had often read rose up in indignation against the idea, and wrote passionately against the prospect of hunting the ‘…beloved bird of peace’. Unfortunately I’m afflicted with a big slab of sarcasm, and ‘BEloved Bird Of Peace’ evolved into ‘Bebop’ as my name for mourning doves. Now Cranky the Bebop spends a lot of time under our bird feeders picking up the dropped sunflower seeds and cracked corn. He’s obviously cranky, because he is always alone while most other bebops in the Quoddy region are in flocks. He also doesn’t tolerate bluejays on his turf, and vigorously chases them away. Now in a slam bang tussle I would bet on the smaller bluejay as a bluejay is more agile and equipped with a pretty formidable beak. Critters, however, very seldom get into slam-bang tussles, and the aggressor usually gets his way. I think that animals, especially birds, realize that the perils of getting banged up, even just a little, may compromise their ability for survival, and take a practical view of the situation and generally retreat from serious conflict.
Under real wilderness circumstances, Cranky, or any other mourning dove for that matter, wouldn’t be here. Mourning doves normally migrate to warmer climates where they can get natural food and don’t have to depend on bird feeding people to survive. But maybe Cranky and his ilk are weighing their chances, as most states have a hunting season on Mourning doves, but in New England the only state with a season for this bird is Rhode Island. Hunting seasons anywhere are somewhat controversial, but the emotional rhetoric rises astronomically when the subject of dove hunting is addressed. At about 500 million strong, mourning doves nest in all states except Hawaii. They typically have two offspring per brood and have from two to five broods a year. Here in the Quoddy region mourning doves usually have two and sometimes three broods. In some states, like Alabama, the economic impact of mourning dove hunting is significant, and nation-wide the harvest is about 20 million birds. Since mourning doves are skilled fliers and capable of speeds greater than 50 miles per hour, it is estimated that for each bird harvested about 8 shots are fired, for an ammunition expenditure alone of this sport of about $48 million. Are mourning doves a major pest anywhere and do the numbers need to be managed by hunting? Probably not, unless you have just seeded your lawn. Mourning doves provide food for wild critters such as Peregrine falcons and hawks and owls, and I once saw a bobcat make a half-hearted effort to catch a mourning dove, but he was unsuccessful.
I don’t feel that hunting presently impacts the numbers of mourning doves, but I am concerned about the future. According to my calculations there are over 5600 tons of shot, usually #7 1/2 or 8, fired at just mourning doves annually. I would like to see the requirement that only non-toxic shot be used on all upland and field game, as is the present requirement for all waterfowl. Since this may result in more wounded animals, I would like to require all hunters who pursue this sport to utilize a dog. A pooch is pretty handy at finding and retrieving a wounded or lost bird. And lastly for my tirade, push edibility of all game. I don’t always agree with Gerry Lavigne, the well known wildlife biologist, but I enthusiastically support his recommendation of eating wild game, even the unusual stuff. From his own words, “ I operate a commercial smoke-house for wild game, and everyone thinks my coyote-meat pepperoni ‘yodel sticks’ are delicious.”And as for you, Cranky, act a little more like the beloved bird of peace and quit harassing my bluejays. The stuff I put out there is for all of you critters.
January, 2010
January, 2010
QUODDY NATURE NOTES
Foraging in the bleak midwinter
By Fred Gralenski
A few other nifties that I might find on my hunter-gatherer perambulations, depending on the season, are the carnivorous snails, like the Waved whelk or the Moon snail. The Moon snail takes a little more effort in processing, as it must be tenderized, but it is still a tasty morsel. Preparation of most of my prizes, except for the vegetables, usually involves a generous but unmeasured amount of butter and garlic, and sometimes some horseradish, and wine for cooking and sampling until the stuff is ready. I’m not sure Julia Child would be proud of me or not. Linda tolerates my efforts in her kitchen, but sometimes I catch her rolling her eyes when I come up with a new recipe.
I’m incredibly sad this afternoon. Frank Wihbey, founder of Maine Nature News, has passed away. He fell while hiking in California earlier this week.
History of the Maine Nature News
by Frank Wihbey
It all started when a Maine Audubon member survey went out sometime around 1992 and got me thinking about one of the questions: “What improvements could be made…?” I replied “There is a time and subject gap in communications for natural history observations in the state. The Bird Alert telephone message [no web then] is weekly, but only covers birds. The Society’s Habitat magazine appears monthly, but is not really missioned to cover current observations.”This led to a solution idea. I envisioned a tabloid size weekly on newsprint stock, similar to the shoppers’ weeklies distributed in some towns. I imagined whom the circle of “reporters” might consist of, perhaps science teachers, game wardens, birders who had non-bird observations to report, et al. I wrote a prospectus and flew it by several people knowledgeable about communicating science to the public and working with natural history reports of “citizen scientists”. My conclusion was that attempting such a project as a printed publication would not have been within the capacity of my time and energy.The World Wide Web Comes on Stage
In 1989, Tim Berners-Lee invented the World Wide Web and gave it its name. But it did not come onto my radar screen until fall 1995 when a wunderkind colleague took the time (thank you, Jenn!) to explain the Web concept and use of Mosaic, the first user friendly browser software. I knew immediately that the Web was the ticket to get this idea off the ground!Publishing on the Web obviates the need for printing and mailing costs, and has the further advantage of instant circulation. If I required correspondents to exclusively use e-mail for sending reports, then their observations and other information would be received promptly and would not have to be retyped. My job would be: organizing the information, light editing, uploading the finished product to the Web and managing the website.In March, 1996 the Maine Nature News was born and has appeared weekly on Tuesdays ever since. I have volunteered my time as Editor since then, until Robin Follette took over on August 1, 2006. The corps of correspondents built slowly over time by word of mouth and “word-of-Web”. All are volunteers who share an interest in Maine Natural history.I invite you to become a Nature correspondent. It’s easy and fun. If you are already a correspondent I hope you will support Robin in her new role and in her efforts to maintain something Maine has that only one other state (Vermont) has so far: your shared Nature journal!
Frank loved Maine’s natural world. He started looking for someone to take his place before he retired so that there was plenty of transition time. He worked longer than he’d planned and now, four and a half years after we started talking about me sliding into his place, he hadn’t been retired very long. We’ve lost a wonderful person. He was very kind and patient as I asked question after question, sometimes asking more than once. I’m incredibly sad.
Robin
Q&A
Do you have have answers? Please send them in!
Editor’s Column:
Do you know about Lily, the black bear in hibernation in Minnesota? She’s not in Maine but she’s a long-distance relative of our black bears. Lily is a three year sow. She’s in labor and will deliver her first cub(s) any minute now. You can check in on Lily live here. I knew black bears don’t sleep soundly through hibernation but didn’t realize they’re this active. Lily has raked in leaves, chewed branches off a tree and brought them into the den, leaves to go to the bathroom (even though she’s not eating) and changes positions often. I look in on her every day.
We have only 6″ of new snow in Talmadge this week. That gives us a total of 17″. It was 30* and sunny today, a perfect day for shoveling and roof raking the fluffy new snow. My daughter was barely through the door after school when she asked to go sledding with friends. They’re out there now, sledding in the dark with a million candle power flashlight. Hot chocolate will be ready when they get back.
Enjoy our beautiful weather!
Robin
If you’re a regular reader of Maine Nature News you’ve noticed the lack of reports. December and January have been very quiet. A lot of things, including the economy, two wars and uncertainty of the future, have kept people closer to home.
Let’s change that this year! Let’s get out and enjoy Maine’s natural world. You don’t have to go some where or do anything in particular. Watch the sun rise or set, the birds, note the weather when you think of it or notice the mosquitoes (yes! In January!). Share with the rest of us.
Robin Follette
Editor/Publisher
Quoddy Nature Notes – Earwigs
Emily’s Secret
Earwigs are not talked about in genteel company. Earwigs are associated with garbage and trash, and because of their ugly, dark countenance and menacing pincers they are feared and despised. An ancient myth was that earwigs would sneak into a person’s ear, bore into the brain and set up housekeeping. In modern times if you google ‘earwig’ you will find a lot web sites of exterminators and pest management companies willing to sell you the latest chemical to eradicate these dastardly earwigs, but in among these are some sites with a little scientific bent that have conflicting information about earwigs. I dug into a lot of these and much other literature and even acquired an earwig, and named her ‘Emily’, and tried to find out more. Even though Emily’s secrets may not be as flashy as Victoria’s, I think Emily is pretty neat.
Here in the Quoddy region we probably have three species of earwigs: the European, Forficula auricularia; the Spinetailed, Doru aculeate; and the Seaside, Anisolabris maritime. Of these the rarest is the Spinetailed, which is the only native earwig in the group and is found primarily in swamps; the largest is the Seaside, which may grow over an inch long and is wingless; and the commonest is the European. Emily is a female European earwig, and I can tell the gender by her relatively straight pincers (cerci). Guy earwigs have curved pincers. Her ancestors were first recorded in the state of Washington in 1907, and probably were brought here to the new world in some shipping crates or something associated with agricultural products. Emily probably started her life in Perry, where I got her. Her mother, after hibernating, laid about 30 eggs in a nest a few inches down in the dirt in April or May of this year and carefully watched over the eggs keeping them clean of any infectious fungi and protecting them from all predators. Emily and her siblings hatched in about a month depending on the temperature, and her mother continued to look after them. This type of maternal care is very rare in insects. Little by little the young earwigs foraged further from the nest until finally they were on their own, and Emily’s mom finished her programmed lifespan. Earwigs can eat almost any type of plant, from pollen to lichens to rotten fruit, but they are also carnivorous and will eat things like aphids, fleas, ants and cinch bugs, but not ear wax. By August Emily was full grown, possibly mated in September and, according to the literature, should have started thinking about hibernating before October and following her mother’s footsteps for a new generation.
Even though she has wings, Emily does all of her long distant traveling by hitching a ride on something. She can fly, but not very well and needs to take off from a high place. The mechanics of an earwig’s flight procedure is pretty amazing. Emily would have to bend her cerci back and unfold her very fragile rear wings and actually cock them in place. Each fold on her wings (and there are upwards of 40 folds on each wing) is spring loaded with an elastic material called resilin and the unfolded wing is sort of stable so that she can fly. After her flight there is a little ‘flick’ and the wings fold up and hide under their little covers. Just a minute! Am I supposed to believe that this teeny bug with pincers on her butt can use these to unfold something on her back about seven times more complicated than and one ten-thousandth the size of the average road map? And after this is spread out the insect can use it for flight? And this miniature, complicated road map then magically folds up and stows away with no excess wrinkles, etc, controlled by no nerves, hooks or latches, with a ‘flick’? What is this ‘flick’?
Aw, come on Emily, don’t be shy. Tell me how you do this stuff. Whisper what really happens in my ear…No! Wait! Emily! EMILY!!!
Quoddy Nature Notes – Snowberry
The colors are fading fast in the Quoddy region. A few rugged Hawksbeards are still hanging onto their little yellow dandelion-like flowers, and the Winterberry adds a red hue to some of our swamps and roadsides, but mostly we have the dark grays of the trunks of trees and the greens of our mosses, ferns (most of them), conifers (all except the Hackmatack) and grass. One mysterious plant with berries that don’t have any color (or, more correctly, has all of them), and is showing its fruit now, is the Snowberry. The Snowberry (AKA Corpse Berry, Snake Berry, Wax Berry, White Coralberry) Symphoricarpos albus, is mysterious, especially to me, because of the confusion in the references. I saw a patch of Snowberry in Pembroke (I had driven by it for over 20 years and Linda finally pointed it out to me) and decided to find out more about this plant. According to most references our plants in this area are the introduced western variety S.albus var. laevigatus. Supposedly there is a Snowberry that was native to the Eastern slope of the Rockies S.albus var. albus. The USDA maps list that variety as being in New Brunswick and all of New England except for Maine and New Hampshire. I haven’t determined the Pembroke variety, but the owner of the patch said it was there before the old house on the site was torn down.
According to the literature, when Jefferson sent out the Lewis and Clark expedition on the journey of discovery to the west coast, one of the plants they sent back was the western Snowberry. Jefferson was pleased with the plant and sent some seeds and cuttings to friends and botanists in Europe. They apparently were impressed and by 1817 Snowberry was grown in England, France and many other parts of Europe. I can’t understand why. It is considered a nuisance in many of the western cattle ranches as it takes up space and nutrients destined for cattle feed. The flowers are cute and coral colored, hence one of the names, but not super exciting. The berries are sort of weird looking, not good eating, as they are very bitter, and birds will eat them only if nothing else is available. What’s the attraction? Snowberry apparently wasn’t common enough around here and I found no references of uses by the Native Americans on the East coast. In the Pacific Northwest, however, Native Americans would gather a bunch of Snowberries and squash them up in a big container and dump the juice in a pond or stream to stun or kill the fish for easier harvesting. A similar concoction, but very diluted, was used for an upset stomach, and a stronger dose was used to relieve constipation. Snowberry was also used, but not very effectively, in place of soap. I don’t know if the pioneers of Jefferson’s time used these characteristics of Snowberry or not. Maybe they used them as we do now, to stabilize a bank with their extensive root system or make a hedge with a tolerable plant with strange looking berries that was different from their neighbor’s hedge. That sounds like a good reason. People will probably remember the old ditty that goes something like: Berries red, have no dread/ Berries white, leave with fright! I think I’ll make a Corpse berry hedge.
The Hunt For Red October
Just as September is golden, October is noted for its reds, at least in the beginning before the Quoddy region turns to a duller gray. But why red? Most things in nature have a reason, and there is some interesting speculation as to why so much of our world here is colored red in October. We remember last spring that our deciduous trees sprouted green leaves and we know that the green is caused by chlorophyll, and that chlorophyll takes sunlight, and, with carbon dioxide and water, manufactures biomass by a process called photosynthesis. Photosynthesis is not a very efficient utilization of the sun’s energy, and one of the reasons is that a plant that looks green does not absorb all of the sun’s radiant energy but reflects the green portion of the spectrum. If the growing plant absorbed all of the sun’s incident radiation the leaf would look black. I do hope that some future do-gooder scientist doesn’t try to save the world and discover a way to genetically modify chlorophyll to make it super efficient. He might liven up the earth in some aspects but if the chlorophyll was black it sure would look depressing. I like green. Another batch of chemicals in the growing leaf are the carotenes. These are the stuff of yellows and such, like carrots, sweet potatoes and buttercups, and they aid the chlorophyll in its job of photosynthesis. Carotenes sort of work in the background in ordinary leaves and are generally inconspicuous. They are, however, a more robust chemical than chlorophyll, and during times like now when the days are getting shorter and the temperatures are dropping, the host plant is beginning to limit sustenance to the leaf. Under these conditions the chlorophyll deteriorates and the carotenes become the dominant chemical and show off their color. The bright yellows of the poplars, birches, some types of ash, sugar maples and black cherry are some of the places where the carotenes are now on center stage. But what about the reds? The red coloration is produced by a sneaky group of chemicals called the anthocyanins. Anthocyanins are absent in the leaf during the growing season but the plant produces these chemicals in the leaf in the late summer. This seems to be a strange mode of operation; why produce something like anthocyanin in a leaf that is soon to be discarded, and over 50% of our deciduous trees do this? Scientists debated this mystery for many years and the particulars of the discussion are still ongoing. One theory for the use of anthocyanin by the tree is that anthocyanins help the tree reabsorb the available nutrients from the leaf prior to the leaf being discarded.
Another theory is that it is noted that aphids tend to avoid bright leaves, especially red leaves, as compared to trees with dull leaves, and this may give the tree a slight advantage. Insect pests that harass the tree may be more easily spotted by their predators on red leaves. Red leafed vines, like poison ivy and Virginia creeper, may utilize their coloration to advertise to birds that their fruit is available. Red maples produce a large amount of anthocyanins, and the fallen leaves apparently hinder the growth of nearby competitive saplings.
New England is famous for the color of its autumn leaves and there are surprisingly few places on this earth that have similar colors. I tried to determine my favorite tree, shrub or vine but could not. Each leaf has its own beauty, and each tree, each hillside, and all are affected in appearance by the weather, light and time of day. Red maples, sumacs and Woodbine are the deepest reds, but I appreciate them best at a distance. The blueberry barrens can be another memorable vista, and this scene can change daily as the season evolves. White ash leaves can be a deep purple, blackberry bushes often have a handsome design of greens and reds, and, of course our introduced bushes of burning bush and Japanese barberry are often a deep red. Be careful with the latter two because they can, in some areas, be a very invasive nuisance. Our red oaks have a nice brownish red color that looks sturdy like the tree itself. Red apples are colored by anthocyanins, and since the chlorophyll lasts pretty late on apple trees, the picture is often quite pleasing. Other red fruits that can be spectacular here are highbush cranberry, winterberry and mountain ash. This year is a good year for cones on our spruces, especially the Red spruce. Our red squirrels are busy harvesting these, and perhaps we will be visited by red crossbills this year, and red-breasted nuthatches are usually pretty common at our bird feeders that we will start to put back up in October. Lots of reds here in the Quoddy region. Go outside and see how many you can find. If you turn over a rock or log you might even find a red-backed salamander.
September, 2009
Volume 14, No. 9
What Is It? We have answers!
Over the last three weeks I have gone to all my usual spots looking for milkweed plants. NONE! The dried stems from last year are there but none from this season at all. This is in the Biddeford/Saco area. Anyone else notice this? JB
September 12, Calais (Map 35)
Moosehorn Wildlife Refugehas been an active area lately. Over the last week, we’ve seen a Great Blue Heron, American bald eagles, flocks of geese a moose. I’ll always be amazed at the sight of a moose, no matter how long we live in Maine! This cow has been spotted frequently over the last couple of weeks hanging out here in the area. I overheard talk in town that the rangers have helped her cross Rt.1 at least once. I go out every time I’m near that end of town to see if I can spot her, and I’m watching closely for the bull who must be close by, this being mating season for them. TM
September 17, Lisbon Falls (Map 6)
For the past week or so I have noticed that things in the yard have been out of sorts. One morning a small flower pot was knocked over while on another morning some plants had been knocked down. I forgot a pizza box on the table out back and the next day it was on the ground and two left over slices were gone. I decided to set up my trail camera to see who these night time visitors were. Always wanting to play the part of a good host I decided to set up a elegant dinning experience for my nocturnal guests. From the pictures that were taken they seemed to enjoy their experience very much. SY
QUODDY NATURE NOTES
Golden September
Why is September ‘golden’? Well, there are a lot of yellow things in September, but ‘Golden September’ pops up in my partially silver clad head because I remember an old Grammar School song that went something like:
“In Golden September with bright sunny days,
The skies are clear and blue
The bees in the clover although summer’s over
I love September, don’t you? Don’t you? I love September don’t you.”
I don’t know why this ditty is clogging up the synapses in my head, but I sort of like September, and the golds, besides a few leaves and St. Johnsworts flowers, are mostly members of the Asteracae family like Goldenrods. Here in the Quoddy region we presently have many types of Goldenrods blooming and some that are not even golden. Goldenrods can be used for a good many things. Native Americans used a poultice made from the boiled leaves and blossoms as a healing agent and relief for various types of skin irritations. Goldenrod is used as a medicinal herb, especially in Europe, for urinary tract problems like bladder infections and kidney stones. Thomas Edison experimented with Goldenrod to make rubber. His efforts yielded a plant over 12 feet tall that had a promising percentage of rubber, but the process never got beyond the experimental stage. When I was young I remember experimenting with Goldenrod stems in various forms of weaponry like arrows and fencing epees in spite of the stern warnings from parents, uncles, aunts and teachers to the effect of: “Put that down! You’re going to poke somebody’s eye out with that!” Nowadays I like goldenrods for the critters that use them. There is even a Goldenrod spider, Misumena vatia. This little spider, a crab spider, doesn’t bother to build a web but waits on a flower like Goldenrod and grabs whatever bug comes by. She can change color to almost all yellow if she sits on a goldenrod, or she can be white with rusty spots. She chose the latter color when sitting on my faded green BDN paper box. Another spider that likes to live in Goldenrods is the Black and Yellow Garden spider, Argiope aurantia. A friend gave me this one if I could identify it. I have seen them in goldenrod meadows, but I have never seen them around our house. I let her go on one of our Hollyhocks, and she briefly posed for her picture, and the next day she had her web constructed and had caught a few luckless bugs. This Garden spider likes to build her web between a couple of stems like Goldenrods (or Hollyhocks) pretty close to the ground in a spot that’s not too windy. The world of spiders is largely dictated by the ladies. Guy spiders are generally puny in size and in anything they do, and their sole purpose is to deliver a pedipalp full of sperm to the female to propagate the next generation, and their efforts are often rewarded by being eaten by their larger spouse.
Garden Spider
I’m glad I’m not a spider. All of our adult spiders will perish with the first hard frost, but I get to witness more of the golds of September. My two wretched squash plants have a couple of golden blossoms that will yield nothing, as will my only yellow watermelon that I started many months ago indoors. After three plantings I have one cucumber plant that has golden blossoms, and with luck maybe I’ll get a miniature cucumber. My sunflowers didn’t do too badly, but I have to pick one of the bright yellow flowers and count the visiting bees for the Sunflower Project. My Yellow Wax peppers, the most reliable pepper that I can grow, have produced some pretty fiery fruit, and my Yellow Jelly Bean tomatoes (Pinetree Garden Seeds) started to produce some interesting and tasty little golden gems a couple of weeks ago. The plants grew well over 9 feet high against the barn (almost as tall as Edison’s Goldenrods) but collapsed down to the 6 foot brace. Shortly we will witness the golds of the sugar maples, poplars and hackmatacks. A golden opportunity to get ready for the silver that is to come.
Saturday, September 5, Cape Elizabeth (Map 3)
Saw something today I had never seen before in all my trips to the beach. While walking along Crescent Beach at low tide you could see what I would call snail trails. Tiny lines in the sand that the snails had made as they moved through the sand. SY
September 6, Calais (Map 35)
In early August, we started noticing yellow spots on our maple tree leaves. With this year’s cool, wet summer it was easy to assume fall was falling a bit early! After some reasearch, I learned the trees have been infected by a fungus that will eventually eat up all the leaves. The condition was only aided by the wet weather we’ve experienced.
Two diseases have been identified this year by pathologists with the Maine forestry service – tar leaf spot and maple anthracnose (Kabatiella apocrypta). Trees can be reinfected in the spring as new buds develop if the affected leaves are not disposed of properly by raking and burning them. The fungal spores will survive the winter on the dead leaves, so it’s important not to add them to the compost pile.
Wood Snail
Although they look awful now, nature is constantly renewing itself. I’m looking forward to seeing the trees filled out with fresh, new leaves again next spring. TM
September 6, Molunkus (Map 44)
A walk through the forest showed us several things we missed seeing. The only interesting living creature was this wood snail spotted by my husband. I don’t think I’d have seen it. It was only 1.5″ tall and blended in well.
We didn’t see this raccoon.
We missed a moose and the chipmunks that made these tunnels.
I wish I’d missed the crab apples. They were sour! RF
September 7, Talmadge (Map 45)
There are two flocks of Eastern wild turkeys in our neighborhood. One is a small flock of six. The other is a larger flock of 17 birds. One of the poults is half the size of the others. It looks and acts fine. RF
Monday, September 7 Poland (Map 5)
Spent a few hours this afternoon kayaking on Lower Range Pond. While there I came upon a herd of turtles sunning themselves on a old log. Before some dove back into the water I counted at least six. SY
Friday, August 28 Lisbon Falls (Map 6)
Picked my trail camera up today after being out in the woods for the past two weeks. During that time raccoons, a fisher and a opossum passed by. SY
Oppossum aren't a common sight in Maine
Fisher
What Is It?
Q. My daughter who lives near water across the harbor from Boston took this picture and asked me what bird it is. I’ve checked my various references and can’t find anything like it. I know it must be a young bird of some sort. Anyone know which one? JF
A. A juvenile starling molting to winter plumage. DV
A. The unknown bird in the photo is an immature starling. LR
Q. This hedge of bushes grows alongside the driveway of our bank, and it had beautiful white flowers earlier in the season. Now the flowers are just about gone, and these deep orange fruits have grown. It may be a common thing here, but I’ve never seen it before! TM
A. Rose hips! They just grow BIGGER in Maine!
But I have a question about them… out west I was taught they are best harvested after the first frost, which generally is what gave that variety the red color. Is this true in Maine as well or can I harvest them once they start showing red, before frost? Jj
A. These are almost certainly the white form of the rugosa rose, Rosa rugosa alba. GR
A. The “hedge of bushes” growing near TM’s bank is Rosa rugosa, commonly called the beach rose or wrinkled rose. It’s native to Asia but has been introduced as an ornamental plant and thrives in New England, especailly in sandy sites such as the back sides of coastal dunes. The flowers can be either pink or white, usually with just five petals and with a pleasant fragrance.
The orange/red fruits are the rosehips–the pulpy flesh that surrounds their core of hairy seeds is quite tasty and is reputedly high in Vitamin C, though it’s hard to get very much flesh off any one hip because the hips are small and the cores are large. PC
A. Your photo is an image of a Rosa Rugosa plant, commonly known as beach rose. It is fairly common and somewhat invassive plant. The buds you see in the photo are known as rose hips and were an important source of Vitamin C to natives prior to colonial times. SB
Photo by Fred Gralenski
Lingonberries in Pembroke
QUODDY NATURE NOTES
Lingonberries
Here in the Quoddy Region the blueberry (Vaccinium angustifolium) and cranberry (V. macrocarpon) outshine their shy cousin, the Lingonberry (V.vitis-idaea). There are acres and acres of blueberry barrens and a festival specifically celebrating the blueberry and all of its beneficial qualities; there are acres of cranberry bogs, and of course cranberry sauce is a staple at Thanksgiving. No fanfare for the Lingonberry. It’s just a neat little plant that grows here on the coast and deserves a bit of attention.
Our Lingonberry, (Var. minus), is native to North America, grows about 2-3 inches high and is also called the Dwarf Lingonberry, Mossberry, Cowberry or Mountain Cranberry. Some botanical historians believe that the Lingonberry, not the grape, was the ‘Wineberry’ mentioned by the Norsemen in their sagas describing their discovery of ‘Vineland’. In ancient Scandinavia a desirable and potent wine was made from their Lingonberry. The most popular Lingonberry is the European (Var. majus). This grows about 12 inches and the fruit is commonly harvested in the wild in northern Europe, where it is made into many types of foods but famous for a sauce to be eaten with Reindeer steak. There are only a few acres worldwide where the Lingonberry is cultivated, and the Pacific Northwest is one of the areas, although the web site ‘Lingonberry.com’ from the State of Washington lists only strawberries, raspberries, blackberries and blueberries for sale. The plants are expensive; St Lawrence Nurseries list them at $10 each. An attempt was made a few years ago to raise Lingonberries in the Whiting area, but the art of cultivating them and if they can be cultivated here was not fully understood, and they generally did not prosper.
Lingonberries, like blueberries, spread mostly by sending out roots and colonizing the surrounding areas. They can tolerate pretty rough conditions, and seem to like partial shade. Lingonberries are pollinated by insects especially the bumble bees (Bombus spp), and the ‘mining ‘bees (they dig holes in the ground) of the Andrenid and Halictid variety. These are the same guys (gals) that pollinate the blueberries. The literature mentions that Lingonberries in most areas bloom twice during the year, and ripen in mid August and mid October. I’ve never noticed this, and my Lingonberries are ripening now. The fruit is tart, but supposedly sweetens after being covered by snow and tasted in late winter. My berries never seem to get that far, but are eaten by Red squirrels, Gapper’s red-backed voles, Deer mice, Meadow voles, deer, bear, foxes and seemingly everything else living here or just passing through.
I couldn’t find a word for Lingonberry in my Passamaquoddy reference book, but the Inuit called it ‘Kimminnait’. The Inuit collected the berries, crushed them and mixed them with bear fat and other dried meats as a flavoring and preservative. Lingonberries are rich in vitamin A and C, chocked full of anti-oxidants like their blueberry cousins, and the seeds have a lot of omega-3 fatty acids. The Native Americans, by their normal diet, easily avoided the problems of scurvy, but it is interesting that Lingonberry or the other berries of the Vaccinium genera were not recognized by the Europeans as a cure. Cartier, on his second voyage to Canada, lost crewmen to scurvy, but was saved by the Native Americans when they told him about the healing effects of a tea made from cedar (Arbor vitae). On his third voyage, with this knowledge, he wintered over here in 1541-1542 and apparently had no problems with scurvy. Over 60 years later Champlain lost about half his men to scurvy in the winter of 1604-1605 on St. Croix Island. History would probably be different if he had collected some of the little red berries underfoot.
Editor’s Column
Robin’s Thoughts & Rambles
September 9, 2009
There’s a frost warning for downeast and northern Maine tonight. I’m ready. I picked bushels of eggplant and peppers today. This has been such a hard growing season that I’m ready for it to disappear and move on to the winter growing season.
After dropping kids off at the Springfield Fair Sunday, Steve took me to Molunkus. Ever heard of Molunkus? I hadn’t until a year ago even though it’s only an hour’s ride from home. We were hoping to see some of the deer and moose that have been spotted recently. We saw their tracks but that’s it. It wasn’t disappointing though. I’m never disappointed by a walk in Maine’s forest on a 70*, sunny, breezy day. I’m taking my sister to Molunkus tomorrow. We hope to photograph deer and moose but if not, we won’t be disappointed.
I heard a new-to-me winter predictor. If the web worms are high in the tree we’ll have deep snow. They’re high in trees here right now. They were very low two years ago and we had 118″ of snow that winter. I don’t think I’ll put much faith in this one!
Robin
September 2, 2009
My sister, Melissa, called Monday. “Want to go to Millinocket tomorrow?”
Of course I did! Her husband, Jon, is a contractor. He’s at Jim Strang’s cabin on Henderson Pond this week. Life is tough for Jon. He’s working in one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever stepped foot and the weather is perfect. Jon needed a few tools he hadn’t packed so Melissa was going to take them to Jim who would then take them to Jon. There are only two ways to get to the cabin. Oneth by hike, twoeth by flight. Melissa called back Tuesday morning. “I’m hoping we can fly to the cabin.”
Flying? In a little plane? Don’t those fall out of the sky easily? hmmm…. Melissa has been after me to take a flight since she and Jon spent their anniversary at the cabin back in July. I’ve flown. A lot. I remember two-story airplanes that took us off to the Philippines, flights to Florida, Minnesota and other places. I’m ok with big planes. Actually, I love flying. I wasn’t so sure about a small plane though. Maybe we’d get to Millinocket and we wouldn’t be able to fly and I wouldn’t have to make this decision.
Just as we were pulling into the parking lot of Katahdin Air the plane was coming in to land. It looked uneventful. I watched four men walk out to the plane, climb in and take off. It looked painless. They looked like they were having a great time! Twenty minutes later Jim landed again. He pulled into the dock, got out and turned the plane around, with one hand, easier than I can turn our boat around at the dock. This was going to be a breeze! Yes, if we had the opportunity, I’d go.
I met Jim in the office. Melissa told me he was a nice guy. Steve (my husband) told me he remembered him as being a nice guy when they met 25+ years ago. Jim paid his way through college and bought his first plane using one of Maine’s natural resources – he dug blood worms on the coast. My father-in-law bought marine worms. Small world. Jim’s schedule changed a little while we were in the office. Marcia, one of the women who works in the office, was sure she could make this work for us. And it did! An hour later we climbed from the dock into the plane, buckled up, put on the head phones and away we flew. It was awesome!
Jim pointed out usual spots to see moose and told us it has been a good year for seeing bear from the air. We didn’t see anything. He gave us some interesting history of the area. The highlight of the flight was flying beside Mt. Katahdin. We landed at Henderson Pond easily. A ride in our boat on a breezy day is rougher than this plane ride. I poked around the cabin and beach and wondered what’s up the trail beside the cabin. I’ll check it out next summer! We visited with Jon, heard some great stories and all too soon, we parted ways. The flight back was great! Jim pointed out a few more spots. “That’s where a bull moose was polishing his antlers last week.” I hope to take another flight before they close for the season. We’re talking about a Fly ‘n Dine. I’m hooked!
Thank you for a FANTASTIC time Jim. It was nice to meet you and Marcia. I’ll be back soon!
I’m trying to figure out winter. Colder and snowier than usual? Warmer and little snow? I don’t know. I can’t decide. My dogs and outdoor cat aren’t putting on winter coats yet. That’s unusual. I haven’t seen a hornet’s nest so I don’t know if they’re high or low. High meaning a lot of snow, low meaning little snow. What does no hive mean? We usually have two or three on the farm. I stopped at a store with my sister Tuesday afternoon to check out the bear being tagged. It was a 215 pound boar, estimated by the game warden as being six years old. Interesting. I thought a six year old bear would be much bigger. This info makes me wonder if my little pain-in-the-butt bear isn’t as young as I thought. Maybe he’s not a mischievous young bear. Maybe he’s just a pain the butt. I hope to not find out. He hasn’t been around in weeks and I like it this way. Anyway! I’ve strayed off course here. I got personal with bear so I could see his teeth (brown, not nice and white) and feel his coat. It was thin. He didn’t appear to be putting on a dense winter coat yet. Take into consideration that I’ve never touched a bear in early September until two days ago so I have nothing to compare his coat to. Speculation. Lots of speculation and no really good guess about what to expect this winter. If anyone’s taking orders I’ll take a total of five feet of snow, lots of sunny days, little wind, 20*. Please and thank you.
Robin
