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Archive for March, 2011
Sunday, March 13th, 2011
 Downy woodpecker (female). A mild, mostly overcast morning. So mild, in fact, that I thought seriously of taking my first bicycle ride of the year—but I decided to get my bike tuned up first and that, instead, Jack and I would hike the wooded Beech Hill trails.
Around my place, the birds were active: crows, the titmouse, chickadees, the house finch. Gulls overhead. Finally, late in the day, we set off for the hill.
 Jack on the wooded trail. I should’ve known the wooded trails would still be pretty snowy. A good foot, at least, along most of the trails—the central path packed yet grainy—but passable enough. Right away I heard the voices of crows and gulls nearby. And saw a little cluster of chickadees moving about. I had to keep my eye on the trail, though, not only for the footing but also to make sure to avoid intermittent collections of dog droppings. In fact, I counted two things today: birds and piles of dog poop. Granted, these were the leavings of a winter’s worth of dog walks, but my final count still seemed impressive: fourteen piles in all. And all smack in the middle of the trails.
But the bird list was a good one, too. About half-way up, I heard—then saw—a group of robins flitting about near a grove of staghorn sumac. Then a downy woodpecker showed up and posed for photos. Soon after, a ruffed grouse burst away on a fury of wings. (I even got a look at it sailing down the wooded slope.) Last on the list was a flicker, whose cry I heard in the middle distance. Seven species up there today. Exactly half as many birds as poop piles.
 The work of a pileated woodpecker. I actually thought at first about removing a pile or two myself—I always carry three poop bags with me, but there was Jack to consider. And sure enough he had a load of his own to drop near the summit. As always, being a “bush pooper,” he backed up to the edge of the trail, which attribute to good breeding. And, as always, I picked up the result of his effort—which maybe means I do, too.
But probably it doesn’t matter much. Human thoughtfulness doesn’t necessarily impress Nature. She has a way of evening things out in the end.
Along the upper trail, we passed several dead tree trunks ravaged by pileated woodpeckers. You can tell it’s the work of a pileated from the massive damage and the wide scattering of wood chips on the snow. While scanning the trees for dead ones, I mused about how important they are to wildlife. Especially woodpeckers.
Little musical snow-melt streams criss-crossed the lower trail. At one point, Jack hurried me along on account of his extreme interest in a red squirrel that was dashing down ahead of us along a stone wall. It would dash, then stop; we’d get closer; it’d dash away again, then stop. I heard another squirrel chattering from behind us where this little episode began.
 Bay sky. Down the last long slope we had to slosh though stretches of running water and spongy, muddy ground. But we didn’t mind. In fact, I’m pretty sure Jack enjoyed it as much as I did—moving swiftly through such wet, luscious landscape. But kind of I doubt that can be attributed to good breeding.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 4:30 p.m. (EDT), I hiked the wooded trails.
1. American crow (voice)
2. Herring gull (voice)
3. Black-capped chickadee
4. American robin
5. Downy woodpecker
6. Ruffed grouse
7. Northern flicker (voice)
Elsewhere
8. House finch
9. Tufted titmouse
10. Mallard
11. Ring-billed gull
 Red squirrel.
Tags: American crow, American robin, black-capped chickadee, hairy woodpecker, herring gull, house finch, mallard, northern flicker, ring-billed gull, ruffed grouse
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Saturday, March 12th, 2011
 Sunset. A sunny, breezy morning. Warm enough for the thaw to continue. Last night late, I’d heard water rushing down the hill in the little brook beyond the neighbor’s yard. This morning, a sheet of water coursed lazily across the parking lot. The titmouse was calling again. And crows.
Got distracted with a bunch of desk work today and didn’t leave the house until late. Jack accompanied me directly to Beech Hill.
 Liquid trail. Met a fellow hiker in the parking lot readying for a trip up. Offered a quick greeting as proceeded on ahead. The snow and ice on the trail had gone grainy and soft—but not overly difficult to navigate. But the pack yet rises a foot or more above the earth, and you could see puddles and pools and streams of water through holes in the snow. Much of the main trail had simply turned to mud. We had a good, fast ascent under a dramatic cloud-filled sky. The setting sun faded in and out as the clouds moved slowly overhead. Dark and light and black and blue and gold.
Any snow had vanished from nearly the entire upper field, leaving it a dark, damp brown. Most of the remaining snow, in fact, lay along the trail itself—which also served as a stream for its own snow-melt. A muddy, spongy, wet, swift, pleasant hike.
At the summit, my eyes kept wanting to scan the amazing sky above the bay. As they did, the sun suddenly slipped through the clouds to illuminate the brown vegetation on a small island.
On our return, we met a young couple coming up the trail, then a little family with a camera and a dog. A couple of us took photos of the sunset.
 The inland hills. By then I’d figured it’d be a birdless hike. But as we got nearly back to the parking lot, I heard the whistle of a mourning dove’s wings—then I saw the bird, and another. As I watched the doves, a group of two or three hairy woodpeckers decided to begin chattering at each other from across the road. Not a birdless hike, after all.
Tonight, a half-moon is setting over the hill beyond the oaks out back. Its path is taking it a little to the north of west, I see. A mild night. Temperatures above freezing.
Meantime, on the other side of the world, people are contending with the dizzying aftermath of a gigantic earthquake in Japan.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 5 p.m., I hiked the open trail.
1. Mourning dove
2. Hairy woodpecker
Elsewhere
3. American crow
4. Tufted titmouse
5. Herring gull
6. Mallard
 Sky above the bay.
Tags: American crow, hairy woodpecker, herring gull, mallard, mourning dove, tufted titmouse
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Friday, March 11th, 2011
 Foggy field. A warmish, drizzly morning. Heard some crows out there. Heard a chickadee. Then, later, while driving around as the rain picked up, I saw many crows and herring gulls. They were about the only abundant species out there.
The rain persisted, letting up occasionally. Jack and I took off for Beech Hill late in the day fully expecting—at least I was—a messy trail.
 American tree sparrow. The rain was light but steady. The trail was intermittently slippery and slushy. Nothing like last weekend, at least, when every other step took my boot two feet down to where the running water was. Clearly running water coursed down under there today, too, but the track held firm enough that my feet didn’t much break through. Wet, though. And very foggy.
About half-way up, I stopped. I thought I’d heard the faint cheep! of a bird. Sure enough, there it was again, coming from the north side of the trail. Sounded like a sparrow, maybe. A white-throat? I didn’t think so. I stood for at least two-three minutes listening to its repeated cheeping and scanning the wet, brown grass and brush. It sounded quite near, but I saw nothing. We took a few steps toward it, thinking it might flush. Nothing. Then I spotted a dark shape in a bush maybe fifteen yards distant. Usually shapes like that end up being nothing but die-hard leaves—but this turned out to be a bird. The cheeping bird, no doubt. I trained my wet binoculars on it, and it was sure enough a sparrow. But what species?
Stepped a bit nearer and finally got a good look at it: reddish cap, dark eye-line, buffy sides. An American tree sparrow. It flitted away down the slope back from the way we’d come.
 Machine. So dog and I continued up, skirting the slicker, mushier spots. Beech Nut sat like an ephemeral memory atop the hill. A lot more snow had melted away, though the protected areas still held a couple feet of it.
We didn’t linger, turned and came back down—a little quicker, now that we knew just where to step. I couldn’t tell if the boulder-movers had taken this rainy day off: their big orange bucket machine sat in what looked to be the same spot as it had yesterday at that time (just beyond the photogenic birch). Nearing the base of the hill, I heard the sparrow again—calling the same sharp, intermittent cheep!—but I didn’t catch sight of it again.
Tonight the harbor horns are blowing and fog dims the light from the streetlamps. The snow is gone from the back deck, and even the tallest plow-drifts seem to have lost much of their impressive height. But I’m not fooled: before winter’s over with, we’ll surely see a little more snow.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 4:30 p.m., I hiked the open trail.
1. American tree sparrow
Elsewhere
2. American crow
3. Black-capped chickadee
4. Herring gull
 Sendero.
Tags: American crow, American tree sparrow, black-capped chickadee, herring gull
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| Bird Report is a (sometimes intermittent) record of the birds I encounter while hiking, see while driving, or spy outside my window. —Brian Willson |
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