In search of the Alewife

Woolwich, Maine

Nequasset Brook is a 20 mile plus watershed that empties out into the Gulf of Maine. The brook is part of the Kennebec Estuary, a rare and nationally significant natural resource.

The local spawning fish, Alewife (herring) is part of an anadromous species that migrate from saltwater to fresh and are dependent upon waterways to complete their lifecycle.

 

A dam or mill structure has occupied the Naquasset site since the early 1600’s and the local town of Woolwich has wisely required fish passage over the dam for hundred of years. The upper Nequasset Lake continues to be used as a public drinking water supply.

 

The Nequasset “fish ladder” system is one of a small number of alewife runs still open to commercial harvest. It is an important part of the local culture and a seasonal income for town of Woolwich. The fish are prized as lobster bait, and are also smoked and served with steamed fiddlehead ferns as a spring delicacy.  (Above text excerpted from a sign posted by the town of Woolwich).

 

 

The upper dam on the Nequasset Brook.

 

 

 

The fish 'ladder' allows the alewives access above and below the dam.

 

 

Steve Bodge is one of a few remaining commercial harvesters of the alewife. During spawning season, Steve lives on site, catching, smoking and selling the fish to lobster men as bait, and to the public as a smoked delicacy.

 

 

Inside the fish house where Steve resides - and nearby, outside smokes his fish.

 

 

 

 

Alwives schooled just above the dam.

 

 

 

boys of summer

AA Little League (ages 7 to 9)

Portland, Maine

 

 

Team; 'Convenient MD'

 

Coach Wilson

 My grandson Nico (7), a 'lefty', warming-up in his professional stance.

 

 

Wil (7). The opposing team's coach's son.

Ball in play. 

LaGuardia, NYC

May 30th; 

While our past president was just found guilty on all of his 34 felony counts in a Manhattan courtroom, I sat out, in the outlying borough of Queens, prepared to depart from a newly remodeled LaGuardia airport. 

With a sense of unease, as passengers, we peered out where the majority of vehicle traffic looked to be existing the city.  And, it was only a Thursday.

hate to pull teeth

A sad ending for a statuesque palm. From last season's hurricane and property flood, a slow dying, 45 ft native 'Royal' was brought to the ground. This magnificent palm, with it's broad crown and distinctive crownshaft, was the center of a threesome that had lined our driveway for over 40 years. 

With just two guys up on high extension ladders, using a single chainsaw with rope and tackle, within an hour, it all finally came to an end. 

not dead yet ....

So I thought about that today. Another long, hot, five hour stint, back out at the Upper Myakka Preserve, cutting trails and clearing shrub with the Conservation Foundation, all working towards an end of a restoration project. And today, feeling happy just being healthy enough.

 

But out east heading home, sadly saw this road-kill doe, again thinkin', "not dead yet?" 

 

 

'Tag Along'

I volunteered this past week to "tag along" with one of our Conservation Foundation's several Land Steward's, mapping, clearing and documenting the Upper Myakka Preserve. Total, there were three of us, tasked with also identifying and removing an invasive plant species, a very thorny shrub, the aquatic soda apple.

Esmeralda (Land Steward), Stacey (volunteer) and I started in the uplands, north of the Myakka State Park boundary. We headed both north and south, mapping down to the lower-lying banks of the Myakka River. 

We marked our way through old growth of live-oak and cabbage palms, down to the river's edge. There we pushed hard through the six-foot high, nearly impenetrable, invasive Para grass. Impressively, all accomplished within a five hour hike through the Preserve’s heavily 'hog-rutted' terrain. 

Glad I was up for it. Though, did feel a little punch-drunk later, after finally laying down.

The Conservation's 'Land Steward', Esmeralda, forcefully pushing her way through the tall Para grass along the river's bank.

 

A neighbor (who as of yet, I have not met)

Below is the construction phase of a newly completed house in our neighborhood. It began a little over a year ago, from a heavily wooded lot, to a completely leveled property. A cookie-cutter design which became a contemporary, supposed enviable new home, now appears alarmingly across the way.  

Our road, Flamingo Ave (below) just before construction. On the right, our property (with a hidden blue mailbox up ahead) - and the soon-to-be transformed wooded lot on the left (just beyond the driveway and white mailbox).

 

 

 Our mailbox with our side-gate entrance.

 

 

 

March 2023. The lot across the road, bulldozed and totally cleared of all life (viewed from our mailbox). 

 

 

April 2023. Start of construction.

 

 

 May 2023

 

 

September 2023

 

 

October 2023

 

 

March 2024. Now a year later, construction finally complete this past week. Today, even without the new homeowners appearance, newly installed lights, interior & exterior, have remained lit throughout the night. New owners? Still haven't seen 'em, or met 'em, at least not yet. But from the not-so-distant past, I do miss the owls, the raccoons and those few wandering snakes.