|
|
 |
|
|
Archive for April, 2011
Sunday, April 3rd, 2011
 Pussy willow. Such a sunny morning. So spring-like. (Which makes sense, I guess, considering it’s spring.) The snow of two days ago turned out to be—naturally—benign. Most of it had melted already by the time the morning grew old. The temperature soon lifted high into the 40s (F), and birds were singing everywhere. Through the windows I heard song sparrows, house finches, crows. While doing breakfast dishes I looked out to see what at first appeared to be a person, perhaps a child in costume, stooping down and moving about in the neighbor’s yard. But it wasn’t a person, it was a turkey. A male wild turkey, in full display.
 Wild turkey (male in mating display). I stepped out and at once heard a phoebe calling—first of the year. Then juncos from the low trees out back. The juncos were chipping and trilling. And then I heard a thin call from above and looked up to see a pair of bohemian waxwings perched high in the branches of the big oak. House sparrows chirped. Chickadees singing fee-bee!
I decided this would be a good day to begin my taxes and proceeded to spend more than four hours looking for last year’s return. I quickly found the previous ten years’ returns but then ended up doing some major spring cleaning—going through piles of paperwork, tossing out old magazines, filing keepsakes and old letters, uncovering important notes and receipts and letters—until I finally found what I was looking for in the back of a filing cabinet downstairs. Whew.
At that point it was time to get out in this beautiful, cloudless day.
 Bohemian waxwing. As dog and I pulled into the parking lot, I could see that others had been there. Maybe only one or two others, but certainly we weren’t the only ones to take advantage of the fair weather by hiking the wooded Beech Hill trails. The track had gone slushy already, and plenty of muddy earth showed through. I heard chickadees right away and robins before long. I wondered if the fox sparrows would still be hanging around—and they were. Figured we’d head clear to the summit, so we did. Whereas the forest trails had been relatively calm, it was really blowing up there.
 Fox sparrow. We rounded Beech Nut and were about to head back down when I spotted a big bird floating on the breeze down over the crest of the southern slope. A hawk. A harrier, I felt sure, but it dipped down before I could get a good look. Well, that was all it took to convince me to take Jack down the open trail (where he wanted to go anyway). We descended around the first long curve, and I saw the bird again up toward the summit. A harrier, no question. I watched it rise, head into the wind, then wheel about and soar quickly back around to our left and off down the eastern hillside. Tried for some photos but got only blurry ones. First of many harriers up there in 2011, I’m sure.
Not much happening down the lower trail, but we did meet a young couple ascending with a dog. We exchanged pleasantries, agreed that it was a lovely day. As we walked, the upper branches of the young hardwoods clattered and squeaked in the wind. Stopping to listen, I thought how much this ambient woodland music sounded like human voices—like unintelligible conversations at a dinner party.
Back home, a junco flitted away as I pulled in. A cardinal was singing in the distance—and another chipped nearby. I watched it hop around in the bare oak and maple branches for a while. Heard a pileated woodpecker’s call. Then a hairy woodpecker’s.
Later, in gloaming, I stepped out and was listening to a woodcock’s peent! from across the road when I noticed a large silhouette perched on an oak branch overhanging the parking lot. The shape had “ears.” A great horned owl. Not the best conditions for photographs, but I sure tried. The owl finally grew tired of my attentions and flew off up the hill.
 Dinner dishes. An achingly starry night tonight. But I hear tell that more precipitation will soon be on its way.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 3:15 p.m., I hiked the wooded trails.
1. Black-capped chickadee
2. American robin
3. Fox sparrow
4. Northern harrier
Elsewhere
5. American crow
6. Wild turkey
7. Dark-eyed junco
8. House finch
9. House sparrow
10. Eastern phoebe
11. Song sparrow
12. Bohemian waxwing
13. Herring gull
14. Northern cardinal
15. Pileated woodpecker
16. Hairy woodpecker
17. American woodcock
18. Great horned owl
 Great horned owl.
Tags: American crow, American robin, American woodcock, black-capped chickadee, Bohemian waxwing, dark-eyed junco, eastern phoebe, fox sparrow, great horned owl, hairy woodpecker, herring gull, house finch, house sparrow, northern cardinal, northern harrier, pileated woodpecker, song spwarro, wild turkey
Posted in Lists, Observations | No Comments »
Saturday, April 2nd, 2011
 Beech Hill trail. Remnant clouds overspread the landscape first thing, but soon strips of blue began moving in slowly from the south. By mid-morning, the April sun blasted freely against the fresh-fallen snow, searing my eyes. As far as the neighborhood birds were concerned, there’d been no snowstorm yesterday—the house finch sang, house sparrows chirped, I saw a pair of jays high in the bare crown of a big oak down the road. Song sparrows sang also, as they do. Chickadees. The warming sun soon began the melting process, as great clumps of snow fell splat, splat up the back hill.
 American robin. After breakfast, I grabbed my shovel—which I hadn’t yet put away—and began removing the heavy, wet snow from the deck, the stairs, the walkway up front. Heaviest snow of the season, to shovel. But I knew, once I’d cleared the important spaces, the sun would take care of the rest.
Grabbed Jack then, and we dashed off to do Saturday errands. Seems everyone else in town decided to do the same—what a busy place it was. The post office door opened and closed, and a huge queue had lined up at the bank. Driving through town I happened to notice a small flock of cedar waxwings fluttering around a berry bush mere feet from the road. Soon after, a mourning dove nearly crashed into the front of my pickup but veered away just in time. And driving up Route 1 to the dump, I saw a kestrel swoop up onto a utility line at Powerhouse Hill. First kestrel of the year.
The dump was hopping, too, but I managed to get my recycling materials tossed quickly into the proper bins.
Time for another hike up the wooded Beech Hill trail.
The parking lot remained snow-filled, and the only vehicle track seemed to be from my pickup, from yesterday. Didn’t bother with snowshoes, considering the prospect of a good melt and the fact that I’d tromped down the trail our last trip up. The going wasn’t too hard. A little ways up, I heard robins, as expected. Then crows. Even saw a crow flap swiftly over. And heard chickadees singing fee-bee!
 Fox sparrow. I’d thought no one else had passed since our last hike, but about half-way up I realized that someone else had snowshoed up earlier today. Some of the bowed-down trees had sprung free; others I freed myself. (Felt good to do that for the little trees.) It occurred to me today that not all the bent-over saplings had suffered from falling snow—it seems the weight of the snowfall itself had caused them to droop and get their crowns stuck. Interesting.
I’d begun to think the song sparrows had flown, but then I heard a couple. And saw them, three or four birds—not singing, merely emitting little alarm notes.
The sun had been fading in and out—but by the time we reached the open fields at the top, great patches of blue sky had appeared between immense roiling, billowing clouds. A remarkable, moving sky. I grabbed a few photos, and then we started down the lower trail.
Snow on everything. No other birds to speak of down there—a few more robins—but Jack thought he saw squirrels a time or two. I heard the cries of herring gulls from somewhere.
Back home, a titmouse called, and the house finch sang, and the house sparrow, and a song sparrow, and a cardinal. Come sundown, I watched a solitary crow fly low and silently to the north then suddenly dip and veer into a thick pine.
 Bay view. Tonight, the stars are out. And water’s still dripping from everywhere.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 2:15 p.m., I hiked the wooded trails.
1. American robin
2. American crow
3. Black-capped chickadee (voice)
4. Fox sparrow
5. Herring gull (voice)
Elsewhere
6. Blue jay
7. House finch
8. House sparrow
9. Pileated woodpecker
10. Song sparrow
11. Ring-billed gull
12. Rock pigeon
13. Cedar waxwing
14. Mourning dove
15. American kestrel
16. Tufted titmouse
17. Northern cardinal
Tags: American crow, American kestrel, American robin, black-capped chickadee, blue jay, Cedar waxwing, fox sparrow, herring gull, house finch, house sparrow, mourning dove, northern cardinal, pileated woodpecker, ring-billed gull, rock pigeon, song sparrow, tufted titmouse
Posted in Lists, Observations | No Comments »
Friday, April 1st, 2011
 The lower wooded trail. Rabbit rabbit. When I first looked out the window, snow had already begun to fall, as foretold. It came down at a pretty good rate, too, and before long a few inches lay over everything. Heavy, wet snow—the kind that muffles all sound. Slow traffic on the road. Plows. No birds at all that I could see or hear. They were hunkering down.
The rate of the snow increased. It really began piling up. (Whoever predicted rain blew that call.) Jack and I stuck around the desk, more or less dozing off, letting the snow fall. In early afternoon, the guy came to plow the parking lot. Soon after, I figured it was time dog and I went out and got wet.
 American robin. We took off for town just about the time the snow let up a bit. The post office was open, but the bank had closed early. We drove around for a while and ended up where we always do—Beech Hill. My pickup was the first to bust into the Rockville Street parking lot. It’d begun to snow again, moderately. I heard no birds, just a rising wind and the sound of wet snow plopping off the trees. Good thing I brought snowshoes.
Starting up the trail, I could hardly believe how much snowfall lay about already. A good nine or ten inches, at least. Heavy going. After the first straight open stretch, we began to encounter small bowed-down trees blocking the trail. Snow had made them heavy, apparently, and (near as I could figure) great glops of it falling from taller trees forced them farther down to the point that their crowns stuck in the fresh snowpile. I sprung a few clear, but others we hiked around. Jack started out ahead of me but soon tired of bounding through the wet slog and ended up behind me, following my tracks.
Crossing the little stream, I heard faint peeps and stopped. I barely caught sight of them—a couple small birds flitting low through the small branches. Kinglets, I’m pretty sure. I heard herring gulls crying away toward the shore or the cow farm or someplace.
Once or twice, I nearly lost the trail. The drooped-over saplings fooled me. But we picked our way through. Heavy going.
 April snow. About half-way up, I spotted a few dark birds moving in a tangle of low brush. Robins. They emerged, sat for a moment in some sumac branches, finally flew away. Navigated a rising curve where the landscape opened a bit to our left, and suddenly a large bird rose from a low pine about fifty feet away. A barred owl. It flapped a couple times, turned back, flew low on silent wings, wheeled in the snowy air, banked hard, and disappeared. I didn’t even have time to try for a photo. In fact, had I lifted my camera, I likely wouldn’t have managed a photo at all—and I surely would’ve missed seeing suchan amazingly memorable (if brief) flight.
Soon after, I saw a couple fox sparrows zip low along the trail and descend into a shady hiding place. We finally reached the junction with the lower trail and turned that way. Coming down was easier—but still a slog. I held visions of a barred owl in my head.
Back at the parking lot, I heard chickadees. We spun out of the lot and up the road, where a solitary junco fluttered away.
The snow let up at evening. And for the first time all day, I heard a house sparrow sing.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 4:30 p.m., I hiked the wooded trails.
1. Golden-crowned kinglet
2. Herring gull (voice)
3. American robin
4. Barred owl
5. Fox sparrow
6. Black-capped chickadee (voice)
Elsewhere
7. American crow
8. Dark-eyed junco
9. House finch
Tags: American crow, American robin, barred owl, dark-eyed junco, fox sparrow, golden-crowned kinglet, herring gull, house finch
Posted in Lists, Observations | No Comments »
|
|
| |
| Bird Report is a (sometimes intermittent) record of the birds I encounter while hiking, see while driving, or spy outside my window. —Brian Willson |
|
|
