Cupsuptic Lake camping trip

A couple of weeks ago I went camping for two days on the remote western shore of Cupsuptic Lake in the Rangeley area.

Cupsuptic actually forms the northern bay of Mooselookmeguntic, one of Maine's largest lakes. At one time, Cupsuptic was a separate lake. But after the installation of Upper Dam on Mooselook, the water level was raised 12 feet and lakes became one.

We had a gorgeous waterfront tent site with an ancient moss- and lichen-covered dock out front. Aside from a few fishermen who passed by in trolling motorboats, we were the only people around for miles. That's how remote this place is. The only way to reach this site, part of the Stephen Phillips preserve, is via a two-mile boat ride across the lake. We loaded the boat with tents, bedding, food, wine and fishing gear. We wanted to paddle around the area so we strapped a pair of kayaks to the boat.

The weather was perfect and the lake was like glass much of time -- rare for these lakes where a strong northwesterly wind roars down from the mountains and out of nearby Canada most days. The calm surface made for perfect paddling conditions. Check out the video.

Photo by Andy Molloy

Cedar and Bohemian Waxwings are foragers of fast food.

Possessing distinct black masks, flocks of the birds are spotted year round in Maine. Hanging on fruit trees, chirping in a choir of inebriated delight, the birds love to consume fermented berries. I've watched them drop 10 feet from limbs to the snow after exceeding the dozen berry limit. Shaken, but not stirred, the Waxwings perch atop a branch before taking flight. Then they ingest more berries.

Saturday a flock of Cedar Waxwings descended upon a bush loaded with ripe, red berries. They emitted the a soft "zeee-zeeet" summoning others to the party. I anticipated the usual brawl of wings flapping and beaks dripping with juice as a dozen Waxwings joined the vanguard.

Instead, a Waxwing erupted from the bush and flew in an arc over the Kennebec River, snagging a dragonfly in its beak.

In addition to the Flycatchers and Swallows residing along the Kennebec, Waxwings are veracious bug hunters. Some Waxwings ingested berries before pursuing the dragonflies emerging from the Kennebec.

The teetotalers appeared more successful.

Photo by Andy Molloy
Sibling immature eagles brawl over a fish last summer on the Kennebec River.

Neil Stottler, of Farmingdale, nailed the bird by the claw.

He identified the claws in last week's photo as belonging to an osprey.

Bald Eagles, particularly younger birds, have a yellow hew on the claw. Fish Hawks are white and black.

Wee Stottler also resides along the Kennebec River. He can watch the avian peak of the alewife migration over the next few weeks from the shore. Which is a superior spot to experience the next spectacle to descend upon the river.

Fledgling eagles, ospreys and Kingfishers will be joining the fray over the next few weeks.

A previous post asked species was the most efficient airborne angler.

Chris Del Plato claims Kingfishers possess the best diving skills.

"By my observations (mostly on Cobbossee)," Del Plato writes, "Kingfishers are the most efficient - though eagles seem fairly close, ospreys the least. I've seen some fairly ineffective ospreys miss about 8 or so times in a row, expending a lot of energy in the process (circle, dive, plunge, takeoff, shake/dry, and repeat. Eagles make it look quite effortless, almost plucking fish from the water."

Soon the winged babes of each species will be crashing and splashing as they adapt to feeding themselves. But I must concur with Del Plato. Remarkably, within a month, most of the Kingfishers will be able at hunt beneath the surface after plunging from the sky.

The ospreys learn how to snatch a meal by the fall migration.

The immature eagles, solid black and towering over their parents, appear most skilled at scavenging.

I admit it.

When the bosses first floated the idea to me of taking a month and a half to put together a series on the 20th anniversary of a local conservation group, I didn't exactly leap out of my chair with excitement.

We'd talked about things that were far sexier, like paddling the entire Kennebec River or a wilderness adventure somewhere. Hey, I like hiking as much as the next guy -- but writing 9 different stories on 9 different hikes in the span of a week, well, let's just say that you can only write the same story so many times.

But you don't have to spend much time with folks who've given significant portions of their life to the Kennebec Land Trust to realize that there's more to conservation than a few good loop hikes.

One of my favorite parts of the site visits for "Sense of Wonder: Kennebec Land Trust Turns 20" is seeing how farmland changes in the span of 2 centuries.

I stumbled, quite literally, across one of the lasting images of the entire project at the Governor Curtis Homestead in Leeds. Howard Lake and I were walking out of the woods, finishing up a hike on the way to our cars in the parking lot, when Howard noticed the asparagus. It was a "Hey, look at that" kind of moment, certainly nothing profound.

Driving away, I couldn't forget about the vegetable, though. The way that one asparagus stalk -- planted who knows how many years ago -- stood defiantly over a plot of field grass painted a picture the way my simple words cannot.

Think about it.

The rest of the Curtis family's gardens were overgrown with grasses and weeds decades ago, but that lone stalk remains. Winters, springs, summers and falls have rotated through dozens of times over -- bring with them hurricane-force winds, ice storms, droughts and floods, yet that stalk still remains vigilant. Tough, not tender; resourceful, unyielding.

It exemplifies New England, its people, its farmers -- and today, it represents the work of conservationists in the age of big business, development and a weak economy.

Asparagus.

Who knew?

-- TB

Photo by Andy Molloy
What caught the alewive on the Kennebec River Thursday?

Post an answer. Next week I’ll post mine.