The Pitfalls of Wireless: More Maine Wonders

You are never going to believe this.  The BioDiversity Research Institute in Gorham, Maine has a webcam showing live action of nesting eagles.  Sound is included.  This pair has laid an egg already and are keeping it incubated.  Here’s a newspaper article on this lovely couple.  I have named them “Mich” and “O”.  Well, what else would I call them?  I wonder when the chick will be born?  This is a phenomenal site.  Mesmerizing.

I know.  I know.  The installation of wireless in my house in Maine seems less of a blessing and more of a curse.  Sorry for bothering you again, but these life-long eagle partners are fantastic to watch.

Also, I got some pictures of the Deer Isle Bridge.  Although I love to look at this bridge, I hate to cross it.  It is extremely high up over Eggemoggin Reach, the two lanes are very narrow and the wind plays havoc with this span.  It scares me more than driving under those high-rise apartment buildings on the New York side of the George Washington Bridge.  The tunnels one has to pass through are rife with various structural remedies and those fixes do not inspire confidence that the whole kit and caboodle won’t come tumbling down.  Anyway, crossing the Deer Isle Bridge is even more scarier for me.

I must have been out of my mind to attempt to snap these images AS I WAS CROSSING THE BRIDGE.  I only tried that once before: I was driving on the Brooklyn Bridge from Brooklyn to Manhattan and I was awestruck by Frank Gehry’s new skyscraper.  So I clicked away.

Here are my devil-may-care photos of the bridge.

The approach.

The exodus. Whew!

So once again I apologize for all of my activity on this site.  Between having Internet access and the beauty of Maine at my fingertips, I’m a goner.


RIP Geraldine Ferraro.  You were a productive person, a great New Yorker and a trailblazer in American politics.  But basically, I just liked you.


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One Response to “The Pitfalls of Wireless: More Maine Wonders”

  1. NatalieR Says:

    The Eagle has landed indeed! What a GORGEOUS sight. It reinforces over and over and over again that we were given the absolute MIRACLE of a globe teeming with magnificence. The fact too that man has evolved into so far the smartest creature on earth who can SEE and actually appreciate nature’s splendor is my proof of a miracle.

    It is SO up to us to preserve and protect it rather than dotting the landscape with as many McDonald’s or Pizza Huts as possible. Man’s biblical edict is dominion over the earth but I say having dominion means keeping it and protecting not conquering it so that all the generations that follow can appreciate and wonder about its wonder!

    What force is behind this magnificant force I do not know but I can only know it is splendor before our very eyes!
    Wordsworth’s poem — Ode to Immortality. I quote in part:

    Then sing, ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
    And let the young lambs bound
    As to the tabor’s sound!
    We in thought will join your throng,
    Ye that pipe and ye that play,
    Ye that through your hearts to-day
    Feel the gladness of the May!
    What though the radiance which was once so bright
    Be now for ever taken from my sight,
    Though nothing can bring back the hour
    Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
    We will grieve not, rather find
    Strength in what remains behind;
    In the primal sympathy
    Which having been must ever be;
    In the soothing thoughts that spring
    Out of human suffering;
    In the faith that looks through death,
    In years that bring the philosophic mind.

    And O ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves,
    Forebode not any severing of our loves!
    Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;
    I only have relinquish’d one delight
    To live beneath your more habitual sway.
    I love the brooks which down their channels fret,
    Even more than when I tripp’d lightly as they;
    The innocent brightness of a new-born Day
    Is lovely yet;
    The clouds that gather round the setting sun
    Do take a sober colouring from an eye
    That hath kept watch o’er man’s mortality;
    Another race hath been, and other palms are won.
    Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
    Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
    To me the meanest flower that blows can give
    Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

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