The Wrack
The Wrack is the Wells Reserve blog, our collective logbook on the web.
The Wrack is the Wells Reserve blog, our collective logbook on the web.
Why "The Wrack"? In its cycles of ebb and flow, the sea transports a melange of weed, shell, bone, feather, wood, rope, and trash from place to place, then deposits it at the furthest reach of spent surf. This former flotsam is full of interesting stuff for anybody who cares to kneel and take a look. Now and then, the line of wrack reveals a treasure.
A defenseless nest, an unleashed dog, and in twenty seconds, tragedy.
The following was originally published in the Biddeford-Saco?Journal Tribune Sunday edition, 7/21/13.
In Maine, were continually blessed with natures beauty and its bounty. Our forests, our Gulf, and our thousands of miles of rocky and sandy coast are major drivers of our economy and the envy of the Northeast. Our summer population quadruples because, yes, lifes good here, thanks in large part to our environment.
But science indisputably tells us that the Maine we know is not the Maine that has always been, or will be. Even our rich cultural history is but a millisecond in our environments life.
If our accustomed way of life was, climatologically-speaking, born on third base, should we be blamed for thinking wed hit a triple? What if instead of playing baseball, weve been surfing a wave that must, as all waves do, break?
Our appreciation to the 2013 summer interns who make the "busy season" that much more efficient and effective for everyone around here. In alphabetical order (and with their favorite candy)&
Fog: welcome hydration after the heat wave. Lunch on the porch. Barn swallows, and a couple of trees, whip past incessantly. A vigilant starling keeps going to the gutter with a beakful of food and leaving without one. Two adolescent bluebirds perch on the sapling chestnut and its wire barrier, watching for bugs. I imagine it's their dad who stops while passing downhill, sporting colorful leg bands he probably got a few miles (not a few rods) away. A mockingbird moves in and out of the Sialia space without its typical confidence. To the west, somewhere along the swampy head of the Muskie Trail, cu-cu-cu, cu-cu-cu, cu-cu-cu, cu-cu-cu. The rain crow.
On Saturday June 29, 2013, stakeholders?in?Southern?Maine participated in a full day field trip hosted by Maine Sea Grant that highlighted techniques being implemented by property owners to become more resilient in the face of climate-related impacts.
Every spring the rivers of Maine are home to a unique phenomenon. As the water temperatures rise above 12.8?C?(55? F) alewives begin their annual migration upstream to the lakes and ponds where they were born. This evolutionary strategy is known to biologists as anadromy and is shared with nine other native species including Atlantic salmon and rainbow smelt.
Historically, the schools of spawning fish in our rivers numbered in the millions, and were a significant economic and nutritional resource. Even today, some coastal Maine towns have an annual alewife harvest where these fish are caught by the thousands to be sold for lobster bait, or even smoked and sold to adventurous gourmands or locals with a taste for traditional fare. One notable alewife run takes place in mid-coast Maine at Damariscotta Mills. The fish ladder that bypasses the dam at the outlet of Damariscotta Lake is a great place to see these seasonal visitors.