An unexpected guest arrived at Piney Point Beach on Sunday to take a break from the harassment of two ospreys. When an adult, a telltale sign of this creature is their sharp claws, pointed beak, and white head. If you guessed a bald eagle, you are correct! The eagle that landed on the beach was a juvenile, meaning that it had not grown into its adult feathers. Juvenile eagles are identified as having all brown feathers on their plumage, where they start to grow their famous “bald head” when they are roughly between 2-3 years of age.

            Although bald eagles were not long ago revered for their rarity, conservation efforts have made them no longer on the endangered species list as of 2007. Luckily, the Tri-Town has been able to house a couple of pairs throughout the years on local trails, such as White Eagle Parcel trail in 2025.

            The reason bald eagles initially became endangered was due to a chemical called DDT, which was created in the late 1930s to help reduce insect-induced illnesses during WW2; similar to why osprey went endangered. DDT led to eagle and osprey eggshells becoming too thin, causing them to break prematurely. For osprey and eagles, this caused an enormous drop in population, leading to them being added to the endangered species list in 1967. Luckily for our National Bird, DDT was banned in 1972 by the EPA, and population numbers slowly began to recover.

            How can you help with eagle conservation you may ask? To start, using lead-free ammunition and fishing tackle can help, mainly opting for copper and steel alternatives. Adopting a “no trace” policy can also further aid in conservation efforts, promoting an effort to plan ahead and taking trash out according: i.e., the area should look the same when you leave as when you got there. Overall, taking the initiative and preventing litter and waste can help conservation for all aspects of wildlife. Being considerate of wildlife, such as observing from a distance, can help nurture and promote the long-term health of wildlife populations and their habitats.

            As of today, bald eagles now have a “least concern” level of conservation, with their population numbers having recovered to well over 300,000 where there had once been possibly less than 1,000.

Creature Feature

By Bailey Sweet

            “Happy Summer!” flashes the sign in East Fairhaven.

            Yes, that pretty well sums up how I feel these days.

            We’re in the thick of it now. Mid-July. Mid-school vacation. Summer has hit its stride, and I feel as though I have too. There is absolutely nothing better. Well…except that I keep looking at my tomatoes and wondering why they aren’t a little farther along. The peppers seem to agree with the calendar, but the tomatoes? They’re taking their sweet time.

            Of course, this has hardly been a typical gardening year. Remember the snow? The cold? The late spring? Our peas went in later than usual, and everything else seemed to follow suit. But now those peas have been picked, and suddenly I have something I wasn’t expecting: an empty raised bed, safely fenced away from the rabbits and woodchucks. The bed at the far end of our yard is already pretty well planted with tomatoes, eggplant, peppers, and even a few reemerging potatoes, but it’s unfenced, and I’ve noticed more than a few nibble marks out there. This newly empty bed suddenly feels like prime real estate.

            Most gardeners would probably look at the calendar and say, “Well, that’s that.”

            Not me.

            Instead, I decided this empty bed was an invitation.

            So off I went to a local nursery, convinced I’d find more tomatoes and just about anything edible I could tuck into that newly vacant space. By now you know exactly what I found; not much. Mid-July is a wonderful time to admire gardens, but not necessarily to shop for vegetables.

            Still, I didn’t come home empty-handed. Into the wagon went several unusual basils, parsley, lemongrass, marjoram, one jalapeño already sporting peppers, a bell pepper equally productive, and a couple of strawberry plants that seemed determined to prove they hadn’t missed the season at all.

            This is hardly a new pattern for me.

            Every year I tell everyone else to get started early. Every year I somehow convince myself that come July there will still be everything I could possibly want waiting patiently at the nursery.

            Years ago, I loved wandering through Howland’s Greenhouse—now, sadly, just a memory. While everyone else admired the beautiful displays, I was usually poking around the far corners where the slightly frazzled plants had been overlooked. I fancied myself their rescuer, certain I could nurse them back to greatness. Jane Howland would laugh; not at me, but with me, as I stood in the intense July heat of the hothouse debating whether one more bedraggled plant deserved a ride home.

            Perhaps that’s why I never quite believe a gardening season is over. I don’t really stop planting. I just keep reinventing.

            Every season has its opportunities. Right now, I have room for another sowing of beans, perhaps a few cucumbers, herbs wherever they’ll fit, and maybe even Scarlet Runner beans to scramble up the beautiful green wire trellises I bought the other day. Their soft green reminds me of Monet’s garden at Giverny, and I’ve been looking for just the right excuse to put them in.

            And then there’s the blueberry bush and the asparagus crowns I bought last year that are still patiently waiting in their plastic pots. Apparently, they have more faith in me than I deserve.

            I know I wrote a few weeks ago that by now your gardens are probably pretty well set.

            Mine may be “set,” but that doesn’t mean it’s finished.

            Gardens are living places. They change with the seasons, with the weather, and sometimes simply because we have a new idea. An empty bed isn’t the end of something; it’s the beginning of the next chapter.

            So, my plan is simple enough. Fill that empty space. Add a few more edible treasures. Put those trellises to work. See what surprises late summer still has to offer. There is hope, if not a perfectly organized plan. And for a gardener, that’s usually enough.

            Perhaps that’s why gardening keeps us young. Every empty space whispers, “You still have time.”

            “Summertime and the livin’ is easy.” – from George Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess.

The Seaside Gardener

By Laura McLean