The most visible sign that something out of the ordinary was in store was the exodus of boats from the harbor. From sun up to sundown, the beep, beep, beep of the rigs backing down the boat ramp to haul out another boat permeated the air. Statistically, the experts say that it is just a matter of time before Maine gets in the way of a major hurricane. I guess it's sort of like the inevitably of San Francisco getting wacked by an earthquake. However, the odds of a hurricane making it this far up the Atlantic and packing much of a punch are quite small.
Hurricanes feed on warm water.
As they work their way north, the water, of course, gets colder. What may start out as a level 4 or 5 hurricane in the Carribean will end up as a level 1 at best by the time it gets to Maine. And even if it does happen to follow a path that skirts the rest of the east coast and bears down on Maine, there is always this troublesome little spit of land that just happens to sit directly in the way - it's called Cape Cod. Hurricanes also weaken as they hit land, so even if one happens to survive the cold waters, Cape Cod inevitably weakens it further. In those rare instances when it appears that a hurricane is, indeed, going to pick on us, we collectively engage in some rather peculiar behavior.