Oak grove, Beech Hill
Rumor had it snow might fall—a sixty percent chance is what I’d heard. And my first glance out the window confirmed it: nearly three inches had fallen by dawn. Light, angel snow. After getting dressed, instead of shoveling, I swept it easily away with with a broom. The temperature started at about 20 degrees (F) and rose to near 30 by nightfall. While sweeping snow, I heard the faint cheeps of chickadees, the sudden song of a house finch across the road, and the and chatty, varied voices of crows.
American crow, Glen Cove.
The snow continued, light and steady, all day, and I didn’t see or hear another bird. Much of the day I worked indoors—but I did take a drive to town without noticing even a herring gull in the lowery sky. True, the roads were slippery and traffic was slow and I might’ve been distracted.
When I surveyed Clam Cove at high tide, all I saw was an even watery gray.
It was just about 4 p.m. when I pulled into the Beech Hill parking lot. I had to get out in it, so I pulled on snowshoes and headed into the woods. Close to six inches had fallen by then, and mine were the first tracks on the trail. It was still snowing. Not very cold, little wind. Gentle snow, tiny kisses on my cheeks. I’d forgotten my gloves but didn’t need them.
Angel snow.
Aside from the sound of my snowshoes and the distant fog whistle, the woods were silent. No movement but the settling flakes and an occasional fall of snow from a branch of a tree. Somewhere were chickadees, creepers, woodpeckers, turkeys, owls. Somewhere were deer and foxes, rabbits and squirrels. Maybe bobcats—which have been seen (and photographed) on the hill. But the only evidence my senses could detect were tracks in the snow. They weren’t fresh. Deer had crossed the trail a few times, I could tell, but not since at least morning. All the many varied tracks had inches of fresh snow in them. It made them hard to identify.
A few channels crisscrossing the trail toward the top of the hill I attributed to rabbits. At some point a wild animal had come from uphill and turned into the trail itself, followed it for a good hundred yards, then turned off into the woods again. The tracks were soft, snow-filled, rounded, vague. Judging by their separation and the apparent gait of the critter, I’d guess fox. Or maybe bobcat.
I was sort of hoping for an owl. Maybe a barred owl awakening early. Instead, I saw no birds, I heard no animals at all. They were there, I know—just out of reach of my senses.
Today’s List
Black-capped chickadee
House finch
American crow
Deadfall where I've seen magnolia warblers in spring.
