Veery.

It was almost chilly this morning. Chilly and kind of foggy. I stayed up working until about 1 a.m. and had an appointment before 9, so I scrambled out of bed feeling both a groggy and in a hurry. Dog and I managed to reach the trailhead by 7 a.m.

Common yellowthroat (female).

A crow was waiting for us at the entrance. As we got out of the truck, a red-eyed vireo was singing, as is usual at this time of year. (How many thousands of individual notes and sequences must a vireo emit every day?) And the usual birds revealed themselves over the course of the first few hundred yards of our ascent—chickadee, goldfinch, towhee, robin. Then I heard a veery.

For the second straight day a veery has come out of hiding. Veeries are a common Beech Hill bird, but this is their quiet time of year. It surprised me how thrilled I felt to hear that disctinctive veeurr!

Better still, as we stopped to listen, the source of the call emerged not twenty feet away. A chipping yellowthroat also emerged, as did a silent, leery catbird. All guarding nests within about a twenty-foot radius. And it occurred to me that here were three species that are probably very familiar with each other—if not buddies. They like the same lush greenery. I’ve seen them all with caterpillars in their bills. Any of the three is liable to raise the alarm, and the others will hurry to investigate. Symbiosis, for sure.

Yellow-rumped warbler.

Not a lot of noteworthy activity the rest of the way up, but as we emerged at the summit, again the birds proved active—arguably even antic. Song sparrows and white-throats and phoebes and flickers, all flitting up the trail and ricocheting every which way. And again it occurred to me: here were some species that clearly liked the same kind of grassy open area with a nearby cover of brush and trees. I’ve seen these species together nearly every day up there lately. Symbiosis.

But an odd bird showed up then: a yellow-rumped warbler. Not uncommon or surprising, really, just not a species I commonly see up there much beyond early spring. And the hummingbird—or perhaps another—appeared again among the open expanse of pink flowers. I didn’t get a picture, though.

A cool morning, and with some serious fog—which began to lift just as we hit the summit. The sun came out fast, in fact, as we descended the open trail. And the birds descending with us included: flicker, savannah sparrow, song sparrow, waxwing, towhee, and yellow warbler. Again, a handful of species that seem to get along. (I listed no field sparrow yesterday or today, but that’s because I heard none singing—very likely they, too, were flitting down the open trail.)

Returning up the hill, I looked up to see a tight flock of black ducks flying swift and low from northeast to southwest. I can’t remember the last time I saw black ducks up there.

Also listed hermit thrush and hairy woodpecker and black-and-white warbler and white-breasted nuthatch.

Fact is, most of the birds I list up there likely know each other pretty well.

Yellow warbler (female).

Beech Hill List
Beginning at 7 a.m., I hiked all trails.

1. American crow
2. Red-eyed vireo (voice)
3. Black-capped chickadee
4. American goldfinch (voice)
5. Eastern towhee
6. American robin
7. Chestnut-sided warbler
8. Veery
9. Common yellowthroat
10. Gray catbird
11. Cedar waxwing
12. Song sparrow
13. Alder flycatcher (voice)
14. Northern flicker
15. Eastern phoebe
16. White-throated sparrow
17. Yellow-rumped warbler
18. Ruby-throated hummingbird
19. Yellow warbler
20. Tufted titmouse (voice)
21. Blue jay (voice)
22. Black-and-white warbler (voice)
23. Chipping sparrow (voice)
24. Hermit thrush (voice)
25. Black duck
26. Hairy woodpecker
27. White-breasted nuthatch (voice)

Elsewhere

28. Herring gull
29. House sparrow
30. Northern cardinal
31. Rock pigeon

Inland fog.

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