PORTLAND — As the temperatures pushed 80 degrees at a job site in the West End early this month, about a dozen workers pulled ice pops out of a cooler. Some tore off the plastic edges with their teeth. Others sliced them with box-cutters.
The cold treats have become a staple at Hebert Construction sites this summer as crews endured a hotter-than-average season punctuated by short, sharp heat waves.
And unlike bottles of water, the handheld, quick-melting nature of ice pops demand an uninterrupted break. Nicole Ritchie, operations manager at Hebert, said staying cool is as much a mental task as a physical one.
"Our biggest threat isn't the level of heat; working in 70- to 90-degree heat isn't a difficult level of heat to work in," she said. Rather, issues arise when workers who are used to lower temperatures don't consider the warmth or modify their approach.
Hebert spent $3,000-$5,000 buying electrolyte mixes, popsicles and coolers this summer. While that's a new upfront cost, Ritchie said it's far cheaper than the fees clients would charge for any delays if their workers kept calling out because of the heat.
As Maine charts increasingly hotter and longer summers, businesses across all industries are planning for more weather extremes — and its impact on their bottom lines. Some are already feeling the effects of hot days on worker productivity and customer demand.
Extreme heat manifests in higher energy bills at food banks, art museums and movie theaters. It can mean lower blueberry crop yields, but also longer growing seasons and new opportunities. It brings the dangers of uncomfortable — or unsafe — working conditions for those most exposed to the sun. And while Maine's temperatures largely remain workable, business leaders say they are watching the thermometer, and their electricity bills, in ways they never needed to before.
"In terms of the cost of operating (the climate control system), that's not something that I've been overly concerned with until maybe the past year, where I've watched the price of electricity go up," Amanda Lahikainen, executive director of the Ogunquit Museum of Art, said. "If the question is 'Are you talking about this during your budget cycle?' Absolutely."
Higher temperatures, longer season
Patrick Woodcock, president and CEO of the Maine State Chamber of Commerce, said many businesses are in a "monitoring phase" when it comes to intensifying summers; they're feeling, but are not yet overwhelmed by, the heat.
"We're certainly not at the point of seeing what occurs in the south, southeast, southwest," he said. "There are a lot of examples of best practices and how to manage this. ... But a lot of that takes investment."
While this past season was cooler than last year — the hottest in Maine's recorded history — the state still saw temperatures 2.2 degrees above the historical average, according to data from the University of Maine Climate Office.
Those climate records show that summer is lasting longer, too; the number of days between the final spring frost and the first fall frost is 16 days longer now than it was in 1950. At current emissions rates, researchers estimate that parts of Maine could see a four-week increase in frost-free days by the end of the century.
Maine farmers, who make up one of the state's largest business sectors, could reap the rewards that come from the extended season, which enables them to grow crops for a longer period of time and try out some new ones, too, like peaches and sweet potatoes, that have been unable to thrive in Maine’s shorter, cooler summers.
“Our changing summer climate isn’t all good or all bad when it comes to our natural resource economic sectors,” said state climatologist Sean Birkel, a University of Maine research professor and an advisor to the Maine Climate Council. “It’s a lot more complicated than that.”
But that all comes with increased risk, Birkel said. The timing of the seasons will be less predictable, he said, making it harder to make farm management decisions.
Farming runs on notoriously thin margins. Crop failures and bad weather can disrupt an entire year's worth of planning, and wipe away thousands to millions of dollars, depending on the crop and the size of the farm. Bad weather caused the size of Maine's wild blueberry harvest to fall 26% in 2022, reducing the total value by nearly $25 million.
Climate records show Maine summers are also wetter. Since 1895, Maine’s total annual precipitation has increased by six inches. The state's new climate action plan predicts Maine will get six more inches by 2100, much of it coming in the form of intense downpours.
The early arrival of summer does no good if those spring downpours occur when a farmer needs a tractor on the field to plant, Rachel Schattman, a University of Maine assistant professor of sustainable agriculture, said. Rainstorms can destroy crops and wash away tens of thousands of dollars in seeds, soil, fertilizer and pesticides.
The seasonal whiplash of sporadic storms interrupting long periods of drought also leaves cash-strapped farmers unsure whether to invest in irrigation systems (up to $3,000/acre) or drainage (up to $3,700/acre).
“Given recent trends, the only safe answer to that question is both,” Schattman said. “That’s a very tough answer for farmers to hear, especially now, when federal funding for sustainable agriculture and weather-related disasters are drying up.”
Scientists like Lily Calderwood, a University of Maine Extension blueberry specialist, are working with the farmers to study how crops will fare as Maine’s summertime temperatures increase.
That is especially important for Maine’s $361 million wild blueberry crop because the research has found barrens are warming faster than the rest of the state. Official tallies won't be ready for months, but some growers warn this year's rainy spring and summer drought wiped out half of their harvest, leaving acres of desiccated plants and berries in the fields, Calderwood said.
Maine wild blueberries can grow larger with the high heat, but drought leaves the plant without enough water to sustain them, causing the berries to shrivel. The hotter summer forces farmers to harvest earlier. Some plants can bud a second time during a warm fall, but those re-budded bushes will not produce berries during the next growing season, Calderwood said.
What these farmers need is access to irrigation, she said — currently, only a third have them.
Warming waters
Climate change helped turn Maine into the lobster capital of the U.S. when the waters in southern New England became too warm for the species' preferred thermal range of 50 to 64 degrees.
But the ocean didn’t stop warming and scientists soon realized the Gulf of Maine was heating up three times faster than the global average. The result, researchers say, is that the prime lobster habitat is now shifting offshore and north, into deeper, colder waters.
After the size of the catch peaked at 132.6 million pounds in 2016, Maine is starting to see its lobster landings fade. Last year’s 86.1 million pound haul was the lowest in 15 years. Luckily, the $6.14 price per pound was its highest on record, softening the economic hit.
But it is still forcing Maine lobstermen to go further from shore, increasing fuel costs and making their work more economically challenging. Some are diversifying by obtaining permits to catch menhaden (a fish Mainers call pogies and use as lobster bait) or scallops or grow mussels, oysters or seaweed.
In 2018, the Gulf of Maine Research Institute used computer modeling to predict Maine's lobster industry would contract 40%-62% by 2030. Some pushed back against the grim outlook, while others noted that it would simply be a return to the annual hauls recorded when Massachusetts wore the lobster crown.
The prediction date is still six years off, but last year’s lower haul did represent a 35% drop from peak landings.
As those numbers decline, can Maine fishermen look forward to replacing lobster losses — as well as herring and cod losses — with any new warm-water commercial fish markets? There are some potential candidates, senior scientist Kathy Mills with Portland’s Gulf of Maine Research Institute said, including black sea bass, long-finned squid, winter flounder and blue crab.
Blue crabs could be a lucrative new fishery for the state, but one that would also pose a risk to baby lobsters, clams, scallops and oysters — all of which it eats. In Chesapeake Bay, which accounts for more than half of U.S. blue crab landings, Virginia and Maryland fishermen can net as much as $90 million a year from dockside sales.
Another promising candidate among Maine’s emerging warm-water species, Mills said, is black sea bass. U.S. commercial landings totaled 4.7 million pounds in 2023, with dockside sales bringing in about $13 million.
While the Maine Department of Marine Fisheries was already able to capitalize on a high abundance of pogie in the Gulf of Maine over the last few years to build up a $13 million a year fishery, Commissioner Carl Wilson said there is no one species that can replace lobster.
But a mix of some new fisheries and expanded existing ones can help blunt climate-related lobster losses, he said.
Keeping cows cool
Maine's 140 dairy farmers, which account for $146.8 million in direct sales and $230 million in statewide economic impact, may have the most experience dealing with the negative effects of heat on a Maine farm.
That is because cows naturally run hot, with a body temperature of about 102 degrees, said Glenda Pereira, a University of Maine dairy specialist. A cow producing milk runs even hotter. They start to feel heat stress — and start producing less milk — when the heat index tops a mere 68 degrees. This year, Maine's average temperature first surpassed that threshold on May 15, the Maine Climate Office said.
“We like to call them ovens,” Pereira said. “A dairy farmer is always thinking about the heat.”
As a result, more and more Maine dairies are letting their cows graze in shaded fields, milking earlier and later in the day and installing barn fans to keep yields high.
Brigeen Farm, a 10th generation dairy in Turner, uses large overhead barn fans to cool their herd of almost 600 Holsteins. Owner Betsey Bullard decided to buy more — each one costs about $900 — when reviewing their monitors after milk production declined last year.
"More panting and less chewing," Bullard said. "Classic signs of a hot cow."
That's a big investment for Maine's struggling dairy farmers, whose numbers decline every year. Each farmer must decide if the upfront investment — in Brigeen's case, $15,000 — will be offset by the 2-1/2 pounds of extra milk that a happy cow makes compared to a hot one.
“A farmer has to be resourceful to make it,” Bullard said; they also installed solar panels to cut the cost of running those fans.
More power
All of that air cooling takes power, a lot of it.
Electricity demand in New England typically reaches its peak during the summer, according to ISO New England, which oversees the region's grid. Though usage had been be greater in the winter, the expansion of air conditioning shifted that balance starting in the 1990s.
Lahikainen, the director of the Ogunquit art museum, said museum's tend to be more sensitive to temperature and humidity than other commercial spaces, as extreme conditions or rapid changes can damage artwork and artifacts. That's why museums have strict climate controls to preserve collections, local operators said.
She declined to offer specific financial figures but said she plans for higher electricity costs each year and pads in a margin for those costs to run even higher.
Woodcock, of the state chamber, said the impact of heat on a company's bottom line depends heavily on how much energy it consumes.
New England's increasing reliance on air conditioning during the summer is challenging the electrical grid, he said, and highlighting the importance of keeping energy affordable. He pointed to late June, when a heatwave triggered near-record demand for electricity in New England.
Woodcock said energy costs are frequently among business leaders' largest concerns when it comes to affordability.
"There's a major situation with our electrical affordability. I think we do need to look through every component of our electrical bill through that prism," Woodcock said.
Energy costs have soared in recent years at Good Shepherd Food Bank, which each year distributes millions of perishable goods to those in need from locations in Auburn and Hampden.
The nonprofit's energy consumption shoots up about 10% or more during the summer months, according to Director of Facilities Sam Michaud. Electricity consumption was 13% higher this August than last, he said. And all that is on top of ever-climbing electricity distribution costs, the amount utilities charge to deliver electricity, which is separate from the cost of the electricity itself.
"That's a significant jump," Michaud said. "And then year over year, the increased cost of electricity has averaged approximately 10%."
To help manage costs, the organization buys its power from a competitive electricity provider, companies that sell electricity and set their own rate. Though such offers can be costlier per kilowatt hour, some offer special pricing structures that can ultimately reduce or stabilize costs over time.
Speaking in early September, Michaud said he recently signed a contract to lock in electricity prices for four years starting in January. That was a bit of a gamble, he said, but if electricity costs continue to rise, Good Shepherd should save money in the long run.
He declined to name the provider or specify the contracted rate, but he said it is below the standard offer.
But that only impacts a fraction of the total power bill, he said. The final cost can still fluctuate based on changes to distribution costs and temporary charges like paying off storm recovery.
With fresh food on the line, the organization has little choice than to budget for higher and higher power costs.
"We're always running refrigeration equipment, which is the largest portion of the energy that we consume," Michaud said. "The only way to save more energy is to just not use it. And that's something that we can't avoid."
This story was reported as part of a collaboration between Maine Public and the Portland Press Herald.