Monhegan

High: 63 F
Low: 42 F
Conditions: S Winds 5-10 knots; Seas 5-7 feet with 10 foot swells

One of our favorite places in all of Maine is Monhegan. Located 12 miles off the coast, this island was one of the very first settled in all of North America: first, historians think, by Vikings, and later by pre-colonial fishermen and whalers. Now, Monhegan Island is home to 40 permanent residents, many of whom are lobstermen, along with a handful of artists and, of course, summer tourists.

We visited Monhegan over the long weekend to stay with friends. They've rented the same house--owned by one of the island's artists--for 25 years now. Our guide (both spiritual and terrestrial) was their dog, Paco, one of Ari's favorite gentlemen callers.

Paco took us on a tour of the island, which still maintains its nautical traditions, both in terms of its working waterfront

And its commitment to preserving the history of its fishing past (note sailor cat in the image below).

Today, many of its visitors spend their time birding. While we were on the island, warblers made a particularly strong showing--especially the magnolia warbler (Dendroica magnolia) in all of its yellow finery.

Our personal favorite inhabitants of Monhegan, however, are a different kind of winged creature entirely: fairies (Sylvanus fairianus).

For over a century, scholars speculated that Monhegan might, in fact, be the island where Prospero was banished in The Tempest. That theory was later debunked, but not for lack of Calibans and Ariels. The island's fairies (and there are rumored to be many of them) live in the Cathedral Woods, an old growth forest on the northern tip of the island. There, they build dozens of elaborate abodes like this one:

No one is quite sure when the fairies first arrived or how populous they are in number, but the fairies are serious about their settlements. And, just like the fairies of tales and legends, they are known to exact sharp and creative punishments against those who fail to follow their fairy laws while in the forest. You can imagine my horror, then, when the brazen caninaturalist stole a feather from this woodland house:

Unfortunately, I didn't notice until we were 20 feet down the trail, and by then it was too late: we were cursed for sure. I've been sleeping with one eye open ever since we returned: sooner or later, we're bound to be the victims of a little mischievous retribution of the fairiest kind. We'll keep you posted--assuming we're still able!