The ten inch poplar will then be stripped of its bark and branches.  The latter will end up very close to the beaver hut and submerged for easy access to its nutritious tips.  Stripped branches will fortify the dam, increasing the depth of the impounded water and the safety of the family of beavers living in it.

Remove the telephone poles and the road from the scene and this could be a timeless picture dating 100 to 10,000 years ago.

Few of us give thought about the beaver and its key role in nature and though we may have some awareness of the importance of it for commodity and land exploration in the earliest 200 years of our developing country we rarely, if ever, see anything in print anymore unless it is a newspaper or TV newscast story about a beaver dam breaching and flooding a well traveled road.

When this happens, the luckless critter is considered a nuisance and the consequences, no matter what the remedy, are severe.

Before infringing upon human property rights, a beaver starts its quiet life in a nurturing family of two adults who mate for life, two to three yearlings, and three or four other newborns called “kits”.  Adults weigh around 40 pounds; yearlings are around 24 pounds, and the kits less than 20 pounds.

Mating season starts right around mid February and the kits are born in late April or early May.  Yearlings will be encouraged to leave the mud and stick hut after two years.

Beavers may also dig out dens in the banks of rivers and streams.

With more than 5,600 lakes and ponds and 5 million acres of wetlands, and don’t forget the nearly 32,000 miles of rivers and streams, Maine has a healthy population of beavers.  Historically, the population is estimated at over 100,000 but with today’s Department of Inland Fisheries and Wildlife management program the population is held somewhere between 44,000 and 67,000.

This keeps a healthy balance of wildlife habitat to where it will not interfere too much with human habitat and commerce. 

Hunting beavers is not permitted in Maine.  Trapping is the preferred population management control method used here and in other states.  The fur trade suffers an economic rollercoaster ride depending on current public opinion of the ethics, as determined by vociferous animal rights groups, of trapping and trading furs.

If fur prices are low for a period of time, trappers will cut back on the number of traps set.  The population of beavers may increase in numbers as a result and that leaves the responsibility of removing the increased percentage to the wildlife biologists or state-hired trappers.  The anti-trapping groups fail to understand that the population of wildlife must be maintained one way or another otherwise property damage and nuisance calls increase at a high cost to individuals or to IFW budget.

Currently, Maine IFW allows an annual harvest of 15,000 beaver to maintain population near carrying capacity of available habitat.  The program has worked since 1985 and hasn’t required a change. 

Addressing some of the more positive contributions of the beaver; it is the only wildlife mammal that makes changes to its habitat to improve its safety, food harvest, and traveling.

The extended opportunities for new vegetation growth around the perimeter of the flooded area benefit small animals like raccoons, otter, mink, and large animals like deer, bear, and moose.  Birds, such as woodcock, partridge, and ducks also benefit from the flooded woodlands that provide nutritious forage.  

Deep pools for fish and amphibians are taken advantage by the small animals listed above along with osprey, heron, and owls.

Beaver are territorial and will often cruise silently close to a canoeist and slap the surface of the water with its broad tail.  The noise can be thunderous and it’s like having a 50 pound rock dropped by the watercraft. 

If one is not prepared for this – or even if one is prepared – it can cause a startled response.

The beaver played an important role in the exploration of this country by new arrivals.  Long before the Europeans came the First Nation people made use of the self-sustaining natural resource.  In the latter decades, the beaver population fluctuated depending upon the price the fur trade could pay and the finicky fashion market.

Today we depend upon IFW to watch over the increasing population and carefully manage it so that the human contact is mostly prevented.  The beaver quietly works away as it has done so for tens of thousands of years creating a safe haven and food collection for the extended family and is completely oblivious to the decisions made on its behalf.

What’s odd is that there’s so little written about it; perhaps this is because it is so common in the woods and at our bird feeders.  Odder still, is that little is mentioned about its cousins.   This week, we will take a quick look at the life of the chickadee. 

The black capped chickadee that is so familiar to all of us enjoys the largest territory of all the others in its genus.  The small bird, smaller than a sparrow, is found in North America and in all but the most southern states and throughout most of Canada.  It loves a mixed forest and will nest in small hollowed-out openings in birch, poplar, and alder trees.

There are five distinct species of the genus Poecile, the black capped chickadee is already mentioned.

The boreal chickadee, Poecile hudsonica, sometimes called the brown capped chickadee, is found throughout Canada and overlaps the northern half of the territory of the black capped chickadee.  As its name indicates, it prefers the dense pine forests found in the northern parts of New England and also the northern parts of Montana and Idaho.  This is a rare bird to sight in the U.S.

Carolina chickadee, Poecile carolinensis, occupies the southeast corner states of U.S. covering Texas east to Florida and slightly overlapping the southern territory border of the black capped chickadee.

Mountain chickadees, Poecile gambeli, are found mostly in the Rocky Mountains but their entire territory stretches from parts of Texas up into the Northwest Territories, Canada.

Chestnut backed chickadee, Poecile rufescens, has a much narrower territory and can be found along the Pacific coastline from northern California to the southeast coastline of Alaska.

The home territories, coloration, and song show us the differences but all five chickadees share a common everyday life of foraging for seeds and insects.  They all are non-migratory, perhaps another reason why the people living in the brutal winter climes of New England and Canada embrace this little bird.  They all nest in similar habitat and share the same gusto for life with their comical acrobats and fascination for new things.

We can all agree this genus looks cute.  It’s probably because of its large round head that sits on a short neck, but it’s more than that.  Actions, they say, speak louder than words and the chickadee is always in a perpetual state of action.  Whether flying through woods or open fields with it characteristic dipping flight or snatching sunflower seeds from the feeders in our backyard, it seems the small bird never takes time to rest or perhaps it’s because it is enjoying life too much to stay in one place too long.

The chickadee is also a gregarious and bold bird; it not only travels in small family groups but it also is the first to check out some new disturbance in its neighborhood.  It makes no difference if that disturbance is a coyote or moose passing through or a human. 

This curiosity is the easy track to taming the bird to come to the hand to feed.  Once the bird and its family members are hand tamed they will follow the trainer around the property or through the woods like a scene from a Disney film. 

Cornell Lab of Ornithology, one of the premier sources for natural history, reports that the chickadee has the ability in the late fall to “allow brain neurons containing old information to die, replacing them with new neurons so they can adapt to changes in their social flocks and environment even with their tiny brains.” That sounds like a recipe for a happy existence unless, of course, one is in a hurry and cannot remember where the car keys are.

Be sure to hail this little Charley Chaplin creature the next time it visits the feeder; it has endured the harshest environment with a song in its heart and offers inspiration to those who take time to observe its life.

I stood waist deep in the cool waters at the lower end of an S-curve in the river. The Red Quill tied to the end of a delicate 12 foot leader of monofilament would imitate the trout’s breakfast. The Hendrickson mayfly hatch was nearly over but there were a few flies coming off sporadically.

The imitation landed 24 inches upstream of the trout. The current would drift it right over the feeding trout and I was already anticipating the take.

Suddenly, upstream, there was a loud whoosh-whoosh sound. Two Great Blue Herons looked out of proportion for the small river as they flew ten feet above the sparkling riffles.

The first one banked as soon as it saw me and headed upstream and was quickly out of sight. The second bird was not perturbed as it flew directly over my head. It was so close that I could have touched it with my flyrod. I could see its great form of blue/gray feathers and I looked into its yellow/black eye. The bird’s neck folded back onto its large body made its chest seem puffed. The air rushed through the wing feathers and whooshed-whooshed-whooshed on each downbeat.

The great bird uttered a “kruawk” as it passed overhead, maybe as a warning that I should be doing my fishing somewhere else, but not here, on his waters.

The trout splashed at the Red Quill and in an instant it disappeared into the tannin colored waters but it did not bother me that I missed that fish. I was still in awe of what just happened and recalled the times when herons fed close to me but I could not remember one flying directly overhead like that.

The Great Blue Heron, Ardea herodias, is a common bird with distribution that covers most of North America as far north as Newfoundland and across the continent into Alaska. Their range also extends to South America as far as Venezuela.

The bird stands almost four feet tall and its wingspan stretches to nearly six feet in length. Its thick yellow bill is long and is used to spear or capture fish, rodents, amphibians, reptiles, shellfish, and insects.

Nesting areas are usually in remote wooded or wetland areas. Years ago I discovered a rookery of five nests on top of tall dead trees in southern Maine. The trees stand in a small remote pond and therefore make it very difficult for predators to approach.

Herons are nearly at the top of their food chain and have few predators with which to concern them. Raccoons, gulls, crows, and a few raptors are the common predators for which the heron must be on alert as it protects its nest.

Humans hunted the birds for the feather market in the 1800’s but that was eventually stopped by the Lacey Act (1900) and the Migratory Bird Treaty Act (1918).

Two year olds start their breeding season in our area in April and May. Old nests make good fixer-uppers if the winter storms have been kind to them. It takes about two weeks to construct a new nest of tree branches woven into the base and lined with moss and feathers to accommodate the clutch of five to seven blue eggs.

Incubation is 28 days and both birds share the nesting responsibility. The males incubate the eggs during the day and the females take over the task during the evenings. Herons can hunt for food both during day and night and that will come in handy with three to five young hungry beaks to fill.

The young are first fed regurgitated food but later the adults will lay the food in the nest for the young to fend for themselves. Nestling competition is fierce and many times one or more of the young are pushed out of the nest by their siblings. Adults will not feed young on the ground, so the ousted fledgling’s fate is sealed.

The young birds are practicing their flying at 6 weeks and by 10 weeks they are self sufficient.

We can observe hunting herons in estuaries, around the shoreline of ponds and lakes, and along the edges of wetlands. They stand like picturesque statues on their long legs and quickly dart their bills into the waters to capture or impale their prey.

Thanks, in part, to the heron’s wide distribution and the laws that protect them from commercial hunters, we can be assured that future generations will most likely observe these birds as we do today. To ensure that the birds maintain their population in the face of human encroachment, we must protect the nesting and feeding areas from development and destruction.

As the human population increases and the need for housing rises, the remote wooded and wetland areas look more appealing for development. Future of development must be done with careful thought and consideration of all of our natural resources.

Smart development will allow for the necessary housing and at the same time will protect the vital areas for wildlife habitat.

Thirty minutes after the heron flew overhead and downstream, I concentrated on one hard to reach trout. It was a difficult cast, across the river, under some low slung maple branches. The natural drift of the Red Quill fly would be painfully short. The fact that the trout chose this exact spot, so difficult for anything to spot it, indicates that it has been around for awhile.

It took a couple of casts to present the fly to the precise spot. An upstream mend of the line allowed the Red Quill to drift naturally as it approached the maple leaves dangling just inches above the water.

I heard the whoosh-whoosh of the heron returning upstream and right over my head again, but this time I did not look up. I already missed one fish to the earlier visit. I had but one chance to catch this trout and the fly was getting closer to the target area. Closer, closer, almost there. . .

If you listed gray squirrel, red squirrel (also called pine squirrel), black squirrel, and chipmunk you were close. The black squirrel, and there is also a white squirrel, is really the eastern gray squirrel that exhibits the color when a mutant gene pops up every once in a while. The chipmunk belongs to the same family as other squirrels; the genus is Tamais. If you had listed the Fox squirrel, you would have been too far south and west of New England to be correct.

Did you list the flying squirrel? If so, you probably attended an informative lecture at Wells Reserve and you get an additional 200 points. If you did not list the Northern flying squirrel (Genus: Glaucomys) or the Southern flying squirrel (Genus: Volans) as a New England squirrel don’t feel badly about it; many New Englanders mistakenly think we don’t have flying squirrels here.

My very first introduction to a flying squirrel was one from Frostbite Falls, Minnesota. He was energetic and nothing that I’ve ever seen previously could match the impressive gliding which sometimes included unbelievable acrobatic loops. I’m talking, of course, about Rocket J. Squirrel a.k.a. Rocky, close friend of Bullwinkle.

The Northern flying squirrel is found in pine forests and mixed forests from Nova Scotia to Alaska and as far south as North Carolina. The Southern flying squirrel’s range reaches into southern Maine and New Hampshire.

Of course, flying squirrels don’t really fly. They jump from a branch and glide to another by catching air in the loose skin between the front and back leg on each side. The skin acts more like a parachute than a wing. The Northern flying squirrel’s underbelly is a sandy gray fur whereas the Southern flying squirrel has a lighter color.

The reason many New Englanders are not aware of flying squirrels is that these squirrels are mostly nocturnal and our schedule does not normally coincide with theirs.

We have a flying squirrel that visits our bird feeders well after the sun goes down. If we are stealthy enough and move slowly, the little squirrel will often cease its movements and remain in an upside down position on the feeder with its enormous black eyes starring at our every move. Lately, it simply resumes its nocturnal snack of mostly black sunflower seeds. It will sometimes be at the feeder in the wee hours of the morning.

The diminutive squirrel chooses the night life because of fewer predators as it forages for food. The owl is perhaps its greatest nemesis during the evening hours but its nests are raided during the day by numerous mammals and birds.

The main nest for a flying squirrel can be found in a hollow hole in a tree. They prefer large dead trees found in old forests but we don’t have too many of those around anymore so they have adapted to smaller trees in newer growths. The Northern flying squirrel prefers evergreens but will use deciduous trees which are the preference for Southern flying squirrels.

While raising a brood of young they will keep to one main nest but after that they typically move from nest to nest located over an area of about ten acres probably to avoid predators. Nesting materials can be shredded bark, grasses, and leaves. The use of shredded cedar bark is found too often to be accidental and in fact is preferred. Biologists think the cedar helps to keep parasitic bugs such as fleas, lice, and ticks at bay. During very cold weather flying squirrels do not hibernate but several squirrels will nest together and limit their feeding activity to once a day. As many as 50 Southern flying squirrels have been observed in a communal nest during wintertime. The shredded cedar bark as nesting material certainly speaks to the intelligence of these little creatures.

Breeding takes place early spring for Southern flying squirrels and late spring for the Northern specie.

Typically, four or five young are born after a gestation period of 35 days. Development is slower for the Northern flying squirrel and it has one litter per year. The Southern species may have a second litter in the middle of summer.

Both species dine on mushrooms and lichens as well as nuts, berries, seeds, and will sometimes raid nests of birds to eat eggs and fledglings.

Although neither is on the endangered or threatened species list there is concern for loss of habitat necessary for both to survive their predators.

For this reason nesting boxes and feeding stations are a welcomed help. There are building plans on the Internet for the nesting boxes with instructions for placement. Likewise, plans may be found for platform type feeding stations although, as previously mentioned, they will use regular bird feeders.

One last note: please keep tabby inside or use a leash if she absolutely must go outside. Domestic cats are lethal hunters and upset the balance of nature where prey and predator are concerned.

What types of wildlife should we expect to find in the surrounding woodlands of our community?

To discover the types of wildlife living our woods we must use all of our senses: touch, taste, hearing, sight, and smell. It’s important to use the tools we have – rusty as they may be at first – to interpret our environment and then we can see beyond the obvious and appreciate the details of nature around us.

Our everyday life of running errands, paying the bills, going to work, and socializing with family and friends puts emphasis on only a few of our senses like sight and hearing. Even then, we are surrounded by so much ‘white noise’ affronting our sight and ears that we automatically filter out that which is not important for the activity at hand. Other senses are diminished so much that they are nonexistent for some people. Most of us fall somewhere between that level and only a fair use of our senses.

So, to discover who is living in the woods around us we must be able to take in the environment through all of the senses we have and we must awaken them to work for us. This often can be done by closing down the predominant sense of sight. Like the dominant sibling in a family of five kids, sight demands most of the attention and supplies us with most of incoming data we must deal with at the job, at home, and everyday events.

By closing our eyes we become aware of our surroundings by allowing the diminished senses a chance to translate the environment for us.

The first heightened sense for most is hearing. That’s fine, it’s usually well developed for our everyday life anyway but this is an exercise for listening to wildlife and its environment and so we must remove the white noise filters and allow all sounds to enter the analytical realm of the thinking process. It is said that persons who have lost their sight heighten the levels of the other available senses and we must learn how to do this.

There are chirping birds, the caw of a crow, the cool breeze in upper branches of the trees – wait a second, that’s touch! Yes, and it feels good. The breeze is carrying the light perfume of apple blossoms or the salty air of the incoming tide.

What is the name of that bird with the long chain of notes that run up and down the scale? What is the crow saying? Why does the ocean breeze smell that way?

By allowing our senses to explore our surroundings we are presented with the opportunity to ask questions which will lead us to the knowledge of wildlife and its habitat.

The white noise that affronts our sense of sight is mostly of human design that demands our attention. It teaches us to focus closely in front of us. We break free of the visual confines when we stretch our field of vision to the far horizon as we walk through the woods or even as we drive our vehicles on the Interstate highway.

When we lift our vision from what is directly in front of us the field of information is increased. There’s a hawk sitting on a branch. There’s a squirrel skipping on top of a stone wall. The clouds lumber slowly from the west.

What kind of hawk is it? What is it hunting? Where is its nest? Was that a red squirrel or was that a weasel? Where does it live? What do the clouds indicate for the weather?

Now we know the questions to ask; now we know the resources which we use to answer the questions.

Society has trained us like so many monkeys to perform tricks for it by providing us with small treats which we treasure. My apologies go to all the monkeys for that example.

Time spent in natural environments is not productive time: there are deadlines for those reports, the kids’ need a ride to the soccer field, today is grocery day, tomorrow is laundry day, and all the while we don’t have time for nature.

Nature becomes the Holy Grail; the lost knowledge of our ancestors.

Some people fear nature. Some want to cover it with hot top and buildings. Some want to cut all the trees growing on a mountain and some want to level the mountain with gigantic machinery.

And yet we know by primeval intuition that without nature we perish. We are basically animals with a divine spark. To know nature it is there, just beyond the door and the window.

We use our senses to learn the ways of nature. Our knowledge resources are locked in the bindings of the books on the shelves of our libraries and in our own intuition. We have only to start on the path in the woods to understand nature and ourselves.

So slow down, leave your world of troubles behind, and step into the woods or onto the path. Open your senses to nature and let it talk to you and you will learn to talk to it.

Much to my surprise, and I think to the loon’s surprise as well, it came to the surface not more than 20 feet from the canoe on the starboard side. I could see its ruby eye and the delicate and intricate pattern of black and white feathers. I stopped paddling. No destination could be too important now that I was allowed the honor to closely observe this magnificent bird.

It sounded a couple of soft hoots, varying the pitch slightly and then it called with two mournful notes, “Who Knew?” holding the last note for about two seconds. The call was answered by another loon still cloaked in the fog that held closely to the water. Their conversation assured each other that all was well. As the morning sun slowly ushered the mist off the water the pair continued to dive in search of breakfast. Sometimes they bobbed on the surface of the water carefully preening their feathers and occasionally stretching their wings.

The loon has several calls that may depict intimacy, a call for gathering, a stress call, or a declaration of home territory. Besides the wail and the hoot, the loon has two more calls in its repertoire. The tremolo and the yodel are used when the bird is in conflict with an intruder into its territory or during a confrontation. Every time a floatplane flies over a pond, the loons are sure to start their yodel call until the plane has left their territory. The yodel is also the only call used when the male loon is flying. The unique pitch and volume of the loon call enables the sound to carry for long distances over water. In this way, loons may communicate with others over vast areas of water and forests.

Maine Audubon (20 Gilsland Farm Road, Falmouth, Maine 04105, 207-781-2330) sells an enchanting CD titled, “Voices of the Loon” in their gift store. It is written and produced by William Barklow and published by North American Loon Fund and the National Audubon Society. Robert J. Lurtsema (former announcer for Morning Pro Musica on National Public Radio) narrates the first 18 minutes of the CD. I highly recommend this audio study on loons. It is a classic.

Maine has the largest population of loons in New England, now somewhere around 4,300 adults. The problem is that the pairs are producing fewer chicks per nest in Maine compared to other New England states. The cause of the population plateau is loss of habitat due to shoreline development, disruption of nesting areas by boats and personal watercrafts, and toxins in the food chain. More often than not, boaters and personal watercraft operators are unaware of the existence of a loon’s nest and their wake will cause noisy harassment or even a flooding of the nest. In addition to manmade problems, southern Maine has more of a concentration of raccoons, opossums, skunks, foxes, and gulls that prey on nests than the ponds in the northern and western parts of the state.

A mating pair of loons will produce only one or two eggs for each nesting period. It is easy to understand why many pairs have picked up home and choose to nest in the quieter northern lakes and ponds. The doting parents share feeding and protecting the young chicks. By September the young are able to feed themselves and congregate with other immature birds in groups or “rafts”. They winter along the Maine coast but it may take as long as seven years before a juvenile bird returns to their home waters to build their own nests. Biologists believe that the normal lifespan of a loon is between 25 and 30 years. About 80 percent of the loons will mate for life.

Maine Audubon also has a brochure, “Living in Loon Territory” which is full of helpful and informative tips for observing loons and caring for their habitat. In addition to being an information resource, Maine Audubon conducts annual loon counts, assigning lakes to as many as one thousand volunteers each July. To get a copy of the brochure or to volunteer for next year’s survey, call 207-781-2330.

Fishing on opening day is more of a special calendar event rather than the pursuit of the trout or bass. The waters are usually high and muddy with spring rains and snow melt run off. The temperatures of moving waters are still below the temperatures where the bug life – nymphs of mayflies, caddisflies, and stoneflies – become active.

The fish’s biological makeup is part of the problem for the frustrated angler. Trout are cold water and cold-blooded species and their metabolism correlates with the stream temperatures. It’s not like hibernation but more like a slowing down of the digestive system that reduces the need for the fish to feed as often.

Stomach contents of trout take twice as long to digest in the winter compared to the amount of time the food is processed in warmer water temperatures of the summer.

The optimum time to catch fish is May, when “the leaves on the alders are the size of mouse ears.” That old axiom has a lot of truth to it for it is the time when the nymphs become active with the water temperatures registering somewhere around 42 degrees Farenheight.

The bug activity coincides with the change in metabolism of the fish. The success rate of the angler increases as well.

So why do anglers go out to fish so early in the season? For most, it’s not about catching a fish but rather about being out there by the water with rod in hand. It’s about the awakening of nature in the spring and a promise of better fishing days in the upcoming months.

There are places in my neck of the woods, here in York County, Maine, where the angler has a better chance of catching a trout on opening day, despite the harsher weather and environment conditions.

Check out Great Brook in Lebanon and the Great Works River and Neoutaquet River in North Berwick. While in the Berwick area, try Worster Brook, too. All of these will have brook trout.

Select the size and color lure for the water conditions – light, bright lures for muddy slow waters or heavy, gold or brass lures for clear and fast running waters. Flies that work best in the early season are streamers. The Gray Ghost, Blue Smelt, or Green King are excellent minnow imitations for feeding trout.

By the weekend, following opening day, revisit those brooks and rivers. Also, try the Kennebunk River in Kennebunk, the Merriland River in Wells, and the Ogunquit River in Ogunquit. These rivers can produce brook trout early in the season.

Finding ponds free of ice this early in the season is normally difficult. This season, however, may be an exception. If pond and lake fishing is more appealing to you, the fish will either be down around 15 feet or along the banks and near the inlets. Troll slowly with small lures, like the Little Cleo or flies like the Gray Ghost.

Kennebunk Pond in Kennebunk, Littlefield Pond and Number One Pond in Sanford, Wilson Lake in Acton, and Parker Pond in Lyman are good bets for early season fishing if the ice is out.

Springtime fishing is not without its dangers. Hypothermia is a serious threat to all who venture out in early April. Be careful when around the water. Fish with a companion and be prepared if the worse happens. Storing a change of warm clothes in the vehicle is a smart plan.

Be sure to know the regulations for the waters you fish. The regulation book, “Open Water Regulations” should be with you at all times. Check the regulations for each part of the water you intend to fish.

Open water season begins April 1 and ends September 30. The regulations allow only artificial lures after August 16. Pick up the regulations for open water at your local town hall or at any WalMart store. You may also view the regulations online at http://www.state.me.us/ifw/ Ignorance is no excuse for the law and the penalties are heavy for those who are caught fishing illegally.