And not all of it’s meant for human consumption. Some of it’s used for bait, usually for lobsters.
Along the coast we have mackerel. It’s a small fish and oily, one that doesn’t keep well, but cooked promptly or smoked for storing, it’s a lot like salmon. For sports fishing here, seems everybody’s catching ‘em, sometimes six on a line. Some folks even trade buckets of them for lobster.
Alewife. Migrates from the sea late every spring. Another small fish that needs to be cooked promptly or pickled for canning. Also used as prime lobster bait.
Herring. A century ago, these were the basis of Maine’s sardine industry.
Smelt. They’re small, often dip-netted, and can be pan fried and eaten whole. Pacific Northwest Natives called them candlefish, for their oil. Around here, they often show up on the line when casting for mackerel.
Flounder. The species includes fluke, and they like to hang out around pilings and docks – the kinds of places where many folks fish.
Halibut. Now we’re getting to the kinds of fish you might recognize on a restaurant menu or at the grocery.
Haddock. Ditto.
Turning to freshwater, we have several species of trout.
And bass. or perch.
Plus landlocked salmon. Migratory salmon are off-limits, however.
Clamming is also big when the tide’s out. Not that they’re actually fish.
Intimacy. Oh, my, this could lead to another Tendrils. You know, the ways we feel vulnerable.
Poverty. This one even gets twisted up in white superiority and racism, if you look really closely.
Being pulled over while driving. Though it’s unlikely to be a death sentence for me.
Lawsuits. Which can lead to poverty, above.
Being held up or robbed. Well, that can be like a lawsuit plus potential violence.
Rejection. Which also leads back to intimacy, above.
Shame. Well, usually shame is linked to something you’re born with, but it still connects with fear, along with its first-cousin, guilt – arising from something you did bad, really bad.
Hunger. Not that most Americans actually go without food long, but just watch their reactions when they have to fast or go more than two or three hours without a nibble.
Debilitating illness or physical handicap. Blindness, deafness, dementia, for starters. Or falling off a ladder at my age.
Dying as a failure. You know, without achieving something big to advance mankind. Or just plain going to Hell.
The distinctive seafaring bird is on any serious bird-watcher’s bucket list. Here are some things to know.
They don’t make muffins, contrary to the children’s ditty.
Apart from their nesting time on North Atlantic or Pacific cliffs, they spend all their life at sea, resting on the waves when they’re not flying. They’re essentially an arctic bird, though they come south to breed. Considering where I’m living, maybe I’ll take the boat tour and see some, too, if the outings aren’t already booked solid.
These birds can dive underwater for a full minute and are fabulous swimmers.
As a group, they’re a colony, a puffinry, a circus, a burrow, a gathering, or – get this – an improbability.
They’re quite social, with one colony in Iceland reported to have more than a million nests.
They can flap their wings in a blur of 400 times a minute, reaching a flying speed of 55 miles an hour. At least they’ll evade cops with radar guns.
Two opponents in flight can lock beaks and then beat at each other with their wings and feet. OK, that’s ugly but still impressive.
They generally stay with the same mate for life, returning to the same burrow nest.
Sometimes they’re called Sea Parrots or Clowns of the Sea.
Somehow, a red barn is iconic. Little wonder I latched onto it in naming this blog. My posts have already mentioned Tuttle’s and Red’s Shoe Barn in Dover, New Hampshire, and the Red Barn Motel in Millbridge, Maine.
As for others? Not all of them are on farms.
There’s the fast-food restaurant chain that originated in Springfield, Ohio.
A market and deli in South Burlington, Vermont.
A feed and pet store in the San Fernando Valley of California.
A flea market in Bradenton, Florida.
A home décor store in Wisconsin.
A convention center in Adams County, Ohio.
A trailer dealership in Texas and New Mexico.
A medical marijuana producer and dispensary in New Mexico.
Amish in Maine, who not only allow them but make them their bright signature color while keeping the houses plain white.
And let’s not overlook Tom Waits, singing “There was a murder in the red barn” as the chorus.
Working on a big history project, both my own and in some discussions with a good friend who’s immersed in writing a book that’s all his, has had me reflecting on the growth of America. Just where was the economic and political power centered? The findings can be rather surprising.
New York City (33,131 population). That’s all? It’s about the size of Dover, New Hampshire, or Bangor, Maine. Places we’d call small cities or towns.
Philadelphia (28,522). As you’ll see, that’s a bit misleading, but still small by today’s standards.
Boston (18,320). Well, it was also surrounded by some thriving towns, especially along the Charles River and around the harbor.
Charleston, S.C. (16,359). So this was the belle of the South and diversely sophisticated, too?
Baltimore (13,503). Less than half the size of Philadelphia.
Northern Liberties Township, Pa. (9,913). Of course, had these suburbs been included with Philadelphia, the influence of the City of Brotherly Love would be more apparent.
Salem, Mass. (7,921). Here’s where the New England picture changes and winds up taking up half of the Top Ten list.
Newport, R.I. (6,716). Harbors were key factors for cities.
Providence, R.I. (6,380). As I was saying?
Marblehead, Mass. (5,661). One of three Bay State cities named for a single governor, as the saying goes. Peabody and Athol rounded out the honor.
Fact: Only two cities have ever held the distinction of most populous in the United States. When the Declaration of Independence was signed, it was Philadelphia. But by the time of the first Census, 1790, New York had taken the top spot, a rank it’s held ever since.
Only she sounds pathetic, like whiffles. You’d think she’s in pain, but she’s not. And if you try to comfort her, she pops up and looks indignant at you as if asking, “What’s your problem?” Pepper, meanwhile, seems oblivious.
Jnana's Red Barn 