Peregrinations

Across the road from the parking lot, the long ridge of Acadia Mountain lies across the skyline like the back of a large whale. Above it, the eastern sky is bright with the reflections of Somes Sound and there is a feeling of ocean beyond land. The trees at the base mass together in a dark forest, but as I move towards them, they slowly fan apart, the sky falls between the branches, and they are solitary pines, each with its own plot of dawn-lit shadow. The peacefulness, the prospect of the sky above the mountain draws me towards them, through them, and upwards towards the light.

Approaching the top, the trail cuts through low wild berry bushes on pink granite. The pine trees once ubiquitous are now sparse, growing on opportune cracks in the rock and twisted like bonsais from the exposed windy conditions. Rising in a column of warm air, 2 falcons emerge from the valley below and circle each other back down to the sea. you can hear the air rush over their wings as they spiral through the air, you can feel their presence as their shadows rake across the bushes.

Named for their migratory behavior, peregrine falcons (which means 'wandering falcon') are adapted to the pursuit and killing of birds in flight. Their hooked bill can pull flesh from bones. It has a tooth on the upper jaw which fits into a notch in the lower one. The tooth can be inserted between the neck vertebrae of a bird so that by pressing and twisting the pergrine is able to snap the spinal cord of its prey. Swooping in on unsuspecting prey with the sun behind its back from high above at 200 mile per hour, the peregrine is the ultimate hunter.

Devoted to tradition, peregrine generations occupy the same nesting cliffs for hundreds of years. Every year Acadia closes certain cliff trails from June to mid august to protect peregrine nests in the cliffs. Peregrines bathe every day. they prefer running water 6-9 inches deep. Nothing less than 2 inches or more than 12” is acceptable to them. the bed of the stream must be stony or firm. They bathe frequently to rid themselves of their own feather lice and of the lice that may transfer to them from the prey they have killed.

Originally, we were going to summit Acadia Mountain then St. Saveur to the south. But when we saw a sign pointing to an overlook and our attention was diverted to a rocky beach along the somes sound. A neat 3 hour plan became a 6 hour odyssey. Here the kelp lapped gently against the rocks. Indications of violent storms could be seen in dry seaweed hanging high amongst the pine branches overhanging the coast and the driftwood and flotsam that lined the shore. As we scaled the rocks, not knowing whether the improvised trail could continue, an endangered luna moth fell out of the sky. Green wings tattered, with hairy white body, and frilly yellow antennas, it struggled to escape the crevices of the rocks. I tried to help it, but it kept fluttering into the water getting its wings wet. In contrast to the bumbling moth, the peregrines’ shadows would race across our paths.

Small waterfalls along the coast would reveal the outlets of the uphill streams and perfect bathing habitats of the peregrine we would cross on our way back. A hike is like a patchwork of experiences. Piece together the sight of graceful flight, a descent along rocky cliffs, waterfalls and their and clear uphill streams you form a picture of the grace, home, and ritual of the falcon.

"Widening Circles" by Rainer Rilke

I live my life in widening circles
that reach out across the world.
I may not complete this last one
but I give myself to it.

I circle around God, around the primordial tower.
I’ve been circling for thousands of years
and I still don’t know: am I a falcon,
a storm, or a great song? 

typical acadian ascent

typical  acadian summit

Somes Sound

peregrine

 

                                        

hapless luna moth

                                    

off the trail

                                       

way off the trail

peregrine spa