The Eagle Has Landed

"Oh my gosh! Look at the size of that thing! Look at that white head! That's not a seagull."

Heidi and I were sitting in the sun on the granite blocks above the ocean at Wonderland Beach when we turned to see what the guy on the next ledge over was talking about.

"That's an eagle!" he proclaimed excitedly. "Like, real America, America! Holy cow, it's close!" 

Three teenage girls gathered around him. "Where? Where?" they clamored.

"It's right there in the tree," he pointed.

I turned around. There was a large stand of pines behind us. I stood up and craned my neck to see where he was pointing, but I couldn't see an eagle.

"I don't see it!" one of the girls said again.

"It's in the tree!" he repeated.

"I see it!" one of the girls pointed.

A woman standing by waved at me. "Do you want to come look?"

I stepped over to their rock and peered into the tree tops. "There are a lot of trees over there," I said sympathetically to the two girls who were getting frustrated. I scanned the woods again and saw the eagle at the top of a spruce behind a couple of other trees. 

As I pulled my phone out to snap a couple of pics, I heard the second girl exclaim, "I see it!"

"I still don't!" whined the last girl, and the guy took her by the shoulders and turned her body, lining her up with a clear view of the eagle. 

He took her arm and pointed it right at the bird. "See it now?"

"No!" she said.

He shook his head and stepped back. The other girls jumped in to help. "See those two trees? See the dead tree behind them? See the tree to the right of that? Look at the top! See it?"

"No," she sighed.

"Hey! There's an eagle right up in that tree!" The original spotter hailed a group of hikers just stepping onto the beach from the trail. "Look!" They joined us on the ledge and turned to look up at the eagle who looked back at us, surveying the scene below.

By then, I had several pictures, and Heidi and I turned to go. "I see it!" the last girl cried.

"Yay!" Everyone on the rock cheered.

"It's so awesome!" she marveled, and we couldn't disagree.

Sea Dog

Besides a fawn and a few wild turkeys earlier in the week (and of course the mouse), we haven't spotted much wildlife on our amazing vacation up here in Maine. Even the starfish we were promised when we walked down to the causeway were not in evidence, but on that day, there was something better. 

As the dogs swam in Norwood Cove, there was a sudden flurry of fish jumping out of the water near the sluice, and then a seal leapt out of the water and did a little spin before splashing back in. We followed his movement by the ripples of fish trying to escape being eaten, and then, we saw just two eyes and a smooth gray head poking above the water. It turns out he was following the movement of our dogs as they paddled around the shallows after a stick. 

Who knows if he saw them as kith or kin or foe; he did not approach, even as he kept his eyes periscopically fixed on them. But the tide was retreating, and with it the fish, so he plunged below the surface, did a little flip, and swam out to sea.

It Could Have Been Otherwise

My whole vacation flashed before my eyes as I crumpled to the ground. After all the hiking and scrambling I've done in the last 4 days, it was an uneven sidewalk in town that knocked me down. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going and stepped into a little divot, rolled my ankle, and ended up sprawled in someone's front yard. 

My ankle was a bit tender when I stood, and the awareness that we were all two miles from home gave me pause. But as I continued walking, I could feel the ankle loosening up, and I knew there was a drugstore just a couple of blocks away where I could buy an NSAID and maybe even a compression brace. Plus? I was starving! So I knew it couldn't be too bad.

Less than an hour later, we were on our way back to the house, and my ankle was only a little sore. And after that little five-mile jaunt, Heidi and Lucy and I met our friend Ruth and did another couple of miles on an amazing trail along the cliffs at the southern end of the island. My hiking days aren't over yet. 🤞🏻

The Wild Mouse

I asked for a nature camera for my birthday, and my brother and sister-in-law generously obliged. My thought was to put it on one of the little deer paths in the woods near our house, and I was excited to set it up. First I needed batteries and a memory card, though, so that set me back a few days. Then we went to Buffalo for a week, but when we returned, I eagerly re-read the user manual, installed everything, and practically skipped over to the woods to strap my camera to a tree.

The next morning I went to fetch the memory card, certain that I had captured images of all sorts of wildlife, but there were only two videos: me turning it on and me collecting the memory card. Disappointed, but undaunted, I watched a couple of online videos that provided some helpful pointers and returned to the woods to relocate and reset the camera. This time, I waited two days to give all the fauna a chance to go by, but when I checked the memory card? Nothing!

Next, I set it up on my deck within sight of my neighbor's bird feeder, but again, there were no images to see. I was pretty sure it was user-error, especially since it always captured me at either end of the set-up, so I decided to bring the camera to Maine in hopes that my nephews, brother, and sister-in-law might have some suggestions. I was also pretty sure that the woods surrounding our vacation rental would have many denizens to record.

On the first night, just to make sure we got something, we baited the trail with a lobster body. When I checked the card the next morning, even though the lobster hadn't been touched, I was excited to see several media files. Unfortunately, they were all me and Treat placing the camera, me dropping the lobster body, Jasmine and Emily walking by, me finding the lobster body, and me collecting the card.

I tried again in another spot farther from the house the next night, with no bait. This morning, I got the card, and there were actual images from the evening and the middle of the night that weren't me! Three were a very business-like squirrel who seemed to be scouting the area, and one was a little mouse zig-zagging across the trail, presumably to avoid predators. 

It's a start! Plus, the mouse is cute. See for yourself:

Nothing Better

When I told my friend Ruth, who has a summer house up here on the island and has literally spent every summer of her life here, about the lack of blueberries at the Carroll Homestead, she was sympathetic and offered to take all of us picking at a spot she knew. "It's part of the Land and Garden Preserve," she said, "so dogs can be off-leash after 4. There are also some places where they can swim." 

Blueberry picking, hiking with the dogs off-leash, and a chance for them to swim were a trifecta of activities for our group, and we eagerly agreed to meet her at the carriage road parking lot near Little Long Pond this afternoon. After a short hike through the woods, the trail dropped down to the pond and followed the shore north. We stopped at a newly-constructed beach with a bench where dogs were welcome to swim. The field sloping down toward the lake from the forest above was covered in low-bush blueberries and tiny roses. 

While Rosie and Jasmine swam, Lucy ran from the shore to the fields, checking in with those of us who were sitting in the fragrant shrubs, picking berries and chatting. A cool breeze blew across the pond, and we could hear laughter from people who were swimming at the former Rockefeller boathouse on the opposite shore. A loon called from down the pond, and Ruth and I bantered about which mountains we could see from where we were. (They were Cadillac, the Bubbles, Penobscot, and a wee bit of Sargent behind it.)

In less than an hour, we had a few pints of berries, and the dogs were tired, so we packed up and headed back up the hill to the trail through the woods. It was another nearly perfect afternoon in Maine.

Not Exactly as Advertised

In my mind, Carroll Homestead, a preserved coastal Maine farm dating from 1823, which is a part of Acadia National Park, is an empty clapboard structure surrounded by wild blueberries. At least that's what it was in 2010 when our friends John and Ruth took us picking there. 

So you can imagine my excitement when I realized the site was an easy walk through the woods from our vacation rental, and also understand why this morning Lucy and I hiked over there even before I had my first cup of coffee. We turned back, though, as soon as I got a glimpse of the place from the granite ledge surrounded by a springy cushion of sphagnum moss. 

Then, after coffee and breakfast, and armed with collection containers, our whole group made the two-minute trek to the farm. The place was delightful, more restored than before and replete with informative signage, but the blueberries were mostly gone, mown over to make it look more like it had in the mid-1800s. 

But there was a trace of a trail in the woods toward the back of the property that hinted it might join the St. Sauveur-Valley Cove route not too far up the hill. We walked a little way, just to see where it led, and soon we were on a lichen-covered ledge with what might have been a cairn. I was eager to press on, hoping to gain the other trail and continue on it, extending our adventure. But we didn't have any water, and this was not the agreed-upon activity when we left the house, plus we were technically off-trail in a national park. What to do?

We decided to split up; some of our group headed home, and some pushed forward. We let the dogs choose, and they opted to go home. 

Of course, I went with the group that headed into the unknown, and a little bushwhacking and 250 vertical feet later, we found that blue blaze that validated our route. It wasn't too far to the summit of Valley Peak, and then we headed down the trail, taking in the vistas of Somes Sound and Southwest Harbor until we dropped back into the treeline, continuing on until we reached the fireroad, and walked back home.

It was an amazing adventure! And? We are having lobster for dinner tonight.

Tracey's Choice

I come to Maine for two main things: the hiking and the lobster. Usually? It's the latter that's a given-- we have some form of lobster every night. The hiking can be a little trickier, since it's dependent on the weather, the traffic, the group vibe, one's physical condition, and so on. 

This year, our house, although it doesn't offer the water view or water access we covet in a vacation rental, has something we've never enjoyed before: a path that leads directly to Acadia National Park. And when we arrived a little after 4 P.M., that was the amenity I was most eager to try out. The longer August days up here at the 44th parallel gave us until 8, so after unpacking the cars and stocking the fridge, we leashed up the dogs and headed over Carroll Hill and down to Fernald Point. There we picked up the Flying Mountain Trail and made quick work of its 294-foot elevation. Then it was down to Valley Cove Beach, out the fire road, and back up the hill to our cottage. 

When we arrived home just before 8, Bill was cooking pasta and making salad, and we all agreed that our earlier plan of going out for a lobster dinner might be better revised. Ever hopeful, I jumped in the car and dashed out to see if I might grab a couple of lobsters to add to our already delicious meal. Unfortunately, Sunday night did me no favors-- the lobster shack down the road was closed, and so was the nearby grocery. When I pulled into the lobster pound in town, the line was fifty or more with a wait of up to an hour, and lobsters selling for 18.99 a pound. 

Oh, I waited around for a while to see if the line was moving faster than reported, but in the end, I gave up and went home. "Don't worry," Emily said when I reported the bad news, "we can have lobster twice one day!"

I laughed at the consolation and realized that when forced to choose between the two? I'd take the hike every time.