Tag: writing

No place like home

I spent the last three weeks in England, and my first day back in Maine is always special. I settle down into this magical place with a sigh of delight and comfort. Here’s what I saw and heard that first June day: nothing dramatic, but the fabric of my world.

A chipmunk, grooming, not bothered by me so, long as I stayed in my chair and sipped my wine:

Sheep Laurel, Kalmia angustifolia, in flower by the beaver pond:

A minute scarlet jelly fungus, Tulasnella aurantiaca, on a rotting log:

Two garter snakes on my garden wall, a favorite place when the granite has been warmed by a day of sun. Only one was willing to pose:

with sleek bronzed scales:

As evening fell, there were fireflies by the small vernal pool in the field, impossible to photograph, but like having fairies in the garden. The flashes are made by this Say’s Firefly, Pyractomena angulata.

After dark an Eastern Whip-poor-will, Antrostomus vociferus, called from right outside my window. A sort of nightjar, their scientific name reflects the fact that they are very, very loud, but I was delighted to hear it because they have become quite rare, classified as Near Threatened.

It is in the same place every evening, and one dusk it started up while it was still light, so I went out to try and see it. It flew up, and away, and I was sorry I had disturbed it, but it was back the next night. They nest on the ground, and I have looked, to no avail.

And then, at about 4am, a fox barked, sharp and rasping, very close to the house.

A wild and savage sound to welcome me home.

PS In London, foxes wander round Brompton Cemetery in broad daylight:

But here in Maine they are usually wary and I have never heard one bark by the house before.

PPS Google AI produced this excellent summary of how the firefly’s light flash is made:

“Fireflies produce their signature glow through a chemical process called bioluminescence, which operates in a specialized organ called a lantern in their abdomen. This reaction is highly efficient, converting nearly 100% of its chemical energy into light without producing heat. [1, 2, 3]

The mechanism involves four key components mixing in the insect’s light cells (photocytes): [1, 2]

  • Luciferin: A light-emitting compound.
  • Luciferase: An enzyme that acts as a catalyst to speed up the reaction.
  • ATP (Adenosine Triphosphate): The fuel for cellular work.
  • Oxygen: The trigger for the glow. [1, 2, 3, 4]

When the firefly takes in oxygen, the luciferase enzyme facilitates the binding of luciferin and ATP. This oxidation process creates an unstable, high-energy molecule. As this molecule quickly drops back to a lower energy state, it releases the excess energy as a visible flash of light. [1, 2]”

How otters date?

[I’ve been watching my otters as usual, and I am fairly sure I have been peeping in on how they meet up and find a match. Many of these photos are from a long way off, but they nonetheless tell a story that I hope you will find convincing.]

Most of the winter, if I see otters together I assume they are a mother and last year’s young. They behave like puppies, rolling around, diving in, and playing, often fishing out of the same hole in the ice.

Recently their behavior has changed. I haven’t seen two otters together in a while, and when there are two they occupy separate holes and keep their distance.

A few minutes earlier, there had been only one, using the righthand hole, emerging and walking/sliding a short way off to poop. Then he dived and came up in the lefthand hole, where he stayed. Suddenly, a second otter appeared in the right hand hole. He came out and looked towards the other otter with interest.

Then he went over to where the first otter had pooped and rolled, and had a good sniff:

and a roll:

Both otters then continued to fish from their separate holes for a while. This was slightly untypical behavior, but I didn’t think much of it, till today.

At the far end of the pond, on a warm and very gloomy day, were two otters together. One went off to poop by a large rock, and on its return the other one went off to the same place and used the exact same spot. Nothing very unusual about that.

But when they got back together, things got interesting.

One of them spent some time smelling the other one’s head and neck closely:

At one point the right-hand one seemed to bite the neck of the other one, who wasn’t too pleased, but didn’t move away (no photo!). Then the left-hand one rolled over:

and cosied right up:

A little later, they put their heads together:

Time for a nap:

I am not sure I am interpreting all this right, and I will never know, because I had to leave, and now I am away for several weeks. It is the mating season for otters, so I could be right. Males do bite females’ necks during courtship, and rolling around is typical too (but they roll all the time anyway!) One slight doubt: females are about 20% smaller than males but these two don’t seem to have much size difference?

By the time I get back the ice will almost certainly have melted, and any courtship will have long since been consummated, so I end with a link to the only video I could find of river otters mating. It is very, very long, but around six minutes in you can see a commotion in the water, where clearly something is going on, and then they emerge from the water onto land, already conjoined, and making charming chirping sounds. From then on they stay on land, so you can watch and listen for a while if you want.

I have read that they mate in the water only, but other sources say it can be in the water or on land, and this video confirms that!

Coyote spring fever (updated)

[The earlier version of this failed to show the video; I am hoping I’ve fixed the problem).

February is when coyotes mate, and two nights ago they held a party next to my driveway. Neither me nor our beagle saw or even heard a thing, but they didn’t clear up when they left, and so the signs were clear to see.

They came out of the woods, six or eight of them:

Some of them came towards the old stone wall by the driveway:

Others headed towards the vegetable garden at the top of the photo:

where they ran around in excitement:

Then they moved a little closer to the house and seem to have stopped for a while in a group hug:

Nearer the woods there was another gathering spot:

And then they left, some went back the way they came, and some loped off across the driveway and down the hill.

I have no idea what was going on. Usually a group is an adult pair and their young, aged one or two years, for a total of at most six coyotes, but this looked like more to me. Each gathering ‘hub’ had one urine mark, which suggests territorial marking. No scat anywhere, no kills, no signs of a female in oestrus. Mating does take place at this time of year, but it usually involves just the loving couple, not a rave.

Come spring, they will be taking solitary walks through the woods, fording the streams , and looking for prey:

Very occasionally one emerges from the woods at dusk in full view when I have my camera handy. This was in August, after the field had been mowed, perhaps stirring up small prey animals.

PS Coyotes in the northeastern USA are sometimes called coywolves. They’re a hybrid of a coyote and a wolf, and much larger than the coyotes of the western USA.

Photo credit: Justin Lee Hirten from The Canadian Field-Naturalist, from the website of Jonathan Way,

Coywolves: The Coyote-Wolf Hybrids That Thrive in Northeastern North America