This morning seemed a lot like yesterday morning—warm, bright, lovely—so I didn’t make the same mistake a made a day ago: I went out cycling before noon, figuring I’d beat the forecast afternoon thundershowers. Great ride. And on my return, I thought Jack and I should hurry up and hike. Which we did. For about five minutes. The huge blue cloud that had risen in the west was traveling faster than I’d hoped, and a little rain turned us back. Again. For the second straight day.
Then it poured for a while. Hard. Gully-washer.
But also for the second straight day, the sun emerged again, and before long, my dog and I were walking up a warm, wooded trail. Birds calling, post-rain. About half-way up, I heard a singing redstart very near by, so we stopped. Soon we were surrounded by scolding towhees, a chestnut-sided warbler, and a catbird—but the redstart kept singing, intermittently, in a thick tangle of sunny vegetation. It took me a while, but I finally spotted the bird in plain sight, sitting motionless on a twig, back-to, eyeing me closely. That was new.
In spring, redstarts flit about constantly, chasing flies. In my experience, they’re among the busiest of warblers—so it was odd to see one just sitting there like that. Moreover, it had its wings spread and was fanning its tail. As I took a few photos, I got to wondering if this was some kind of protective behavior, or shielding behavior. I’ve seen white-breasted nuthatches stand motionless with spread wings and tail to hide a nesting cavity from squirrels. Could the redstart have been standing at the leafy doorway to its nest? Perhaps guarding nestlings?
It was clear what the towhees were up to, and the chestnut-sided. Yellowthroats scolded us also, and farther up, a catbird stood with a worm in its beak, on the alert. Heard the croak of a raven and the song of a rose-breasted grosbeak down the western slope somewhere.
A smaller cloud blew over on our return down through the trees, where a hermit thrush and pewee were calling, but we only got a little damp from that one.
And out there tonight, rising, is a nearly full moon.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 3:45 p.m., I hiked the wooded trails.
1. Chestnut-sided warbler*
2. Ovenbird (v)
3. Red-eyed vireo (v)
4. Veery (v)
5. Common yellowthroat* (v)
6. Black-capped chickadee (v)
7. American goldfinch*
8. Eastern towhee
9. American redstart*
10. Gray catbird*
11. American crow*
12. Song sparrow* (v)
13. Yellow warbler* (v)
14. Black-and-white warbler (v)
15. Cedar waxwing*
16. Common raven (v)
17. Eastern phoebe (v)
18. Savannah sparrow
19. Rose-breasted grosbeak (v)
20. American robin* (v)
21. Hermit thrush* (v)
22. Eastern wood-pewee (v)
Elsewhere
23. Northern cardinal (v)
24. Tufted titmouse (v)
25. Herring gull
26. Rock pigeon
27. European starling (v)
28. Blue jay (v)
29. Turkey vulture
30. Double-crested cormorant
31. Great black-backed gull
v = Voice only
*Also elsewhere
Tags: American crow, American goldfinch, American redstart, American robin, black-and-white warbler, black-capped chickadee, blue jay, Cedar waxwing, chestnut-sided warbler, common raven, common yellowthroat, double-crested cormorant, eastern phoebe, eastern towhee, eastern wood-pewee, European starling, gray catbird, great black-backed gull, hermit thrush, herring gull, northern cardinal, ovenbird, red-eyed vireo, rock pigeon, rose-breasted grosbeak, savannah sparrow, song sparrow, tufted titmouse, turkey vulture, veery, yellow warbler








