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Archive for April, 2011
Friday, April 15th, 2011
 Hermit thrush. The spring air this morning felt twenty or thirty degrees (F) cooler than at midday yesterday. Not nearly as much wind—but still too chilly for me even to contemplate a bike ride. Turns out it didn’t much matter, as I had pressing work to attend to that kept me anchored to my desk all day. Didn’t even make it to the post offices. Didn’t leave the office at all.
 Northern harrier. Except for accompanying Jack on his routine outings, of course. House finch out there, chickadees, house sparrows, the neighborhood crows, gulls in the sky. Heard the drumming of a woodpecker on a dead oak snag, but I wouldn’t dare to ID it from its drumming.
When dog and I finally did jump in the pickup, at nearly 6 p.m., the sun hung low in the west and the waxing moon had already risen high above the bay. The Rockville Street parking lot was empty. My hooded sweatshirt was sufficient, thanks to the stillness. Thanks also to the stillness, I could hear distant Beech Hill sounds—including cawing crows, crying gulls, and the abbreviated song of a hermit thrush. I wondered if it was the same FOY thrush I saw yesterday. As we neared the sound, it stopped. Replacing it was the song of another thrush: a robin.
Looked for the hermit thrush where we’d seen it yesterday (yes, Jack had noticed it, too), but saw no bird. Chickadees in the woods, as usual. And I discovered I’d misspoken yesterday—still a few dinner-plate-sized snow patches lay about this evening in the shaded upper trail.
 Popple. I hadn’t planned to hike all the way to Beech Nut, but as we emerged into the open fields, I caught sight of a harrier disappearing over the summit, so we continued on. Nowhere near the wind there was yesterday but every bit as cold. As we reached the hut, I looked down over the sunny western barrens and, sure enough, saw the harrier hunting low over the brown hillside. A male. It took a couple sweeps back and forth before sailing out of view.
Scanned the eaves of Beech Nut for yesterday’s phoebe before turning back, but saw nothing. Did spot a song sparrow scratching around in a little thicket near the spruce grove.
A few chickadees calling to each other as we descended, and three crows sitting quietly in the same tree the kestrel occupied yesterday.
I decided we’d return again via the upper trail—and as we neared the hermit thrush spot, I heard a faint clucking sound, so we stopped. It sounded far away, so I was astonished to look over and see a thrush sitting on a branch not thirty feet away, watching us. Same bird? I snapped a few photos and tried to move nearer. The bird then flitted down onto the trail ahead of us and began hopping away along it. Occasionally, it’d hop up onto a little stone and look back at us. Finally, it flew back up into some trees, flicking its tail. Hermit thrushes are impressively secretive in my experience, and I’ve never gotten so close to this species in high season.
 Hermit thrush. Nearing the parking lot, I heard the distant coos of a mourning dove.
Back home, chickadees were fluttering quietly in the trees out back. I saw a couple silent crows getting ready to bed down. And I heard the sharp chip! of a cardinal.
Tonight, the song of the peepers seems somewhat muffled, and the moon shines brightly down on this cold spring night.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 6 p.m., I hiked the upper wooded trail.
1. American crow
2. Hermit thrush
3. American robin (voice)
4. Herring gull (voice)
5. Black-capped chickadee
6. Northern harrier
7. Song sparrow
8. Mourning dove (voice)
Elsewhere
9. House finch
10. House sparrow
11. Northern cardinal
 Spring trees.
Tags: American crow, American robin, black-capped chickadee, hermit thrush, herring gull, house finch, house sparrow, mourning dove, northern cardinal, northern harrier, song sparrow
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Thursday, April 14th, 2011
 Bud. On Beech Hill in the rain late yesterday, a mere few traces of snow remained along the shadier trail edges. Late last night, I saw a remnant scrap or two on the dark edge of the parking lot. This sunny morning: no snow. And suddenly the lawn has gone green.
 Hermit thrush. The end of snow, the greening lawn—it got me thinking of coincidence. And by “coincidence” I mean events that coincide, time-wise, here on the 44th parallel. The reemergence of spring peepers, the return of the osprey, our federal income tax–filing deadline.
Crows and chickadees and house finches were about early. At one point I the loud voice of a pileated woodpecker nearby. Then I heard it again. I must’ve stood with my camera for a good five minutes looking for the bird, but I never did see it. I heard the voice of a hairy woodpecker, too (and didn’t manage to locate it either).
Later in morning, I stepped out and heard the resident house sparrows. And the thin notes of a tufted titmouse hopping about in the oaks.
Sun warmed the day. A light wind cooled it slightly. Filed my taxes, then donned my bicycle gear and headed out for a ride. A nice fast trip downwind to town, where I saw plenty of gulls, heard a couple starlings, spotted some pigeons flying around in the rooftops of the business block. Back north again against the wind, the riding wasn’t so fast. Suddenly, I noticed my front tire was losing air. As it happens, though, I was just about to pass my place and so stopped there, changed the tube, and continued on up Route 1. As I passed, a song sparrow flitted away from the roadside.
 Sumac. The wind-aided trip back from Rockport went quickly. A wonderful ride. Got back just in time for a Beech Hill hike with Jack—his first in three days, and he was ready for it.
Not far along the trail, I heard an American robin singing in the distance. Heard herring gulls crying off toward the shore. Subtle little buds and shoots were popping forth everywhere, seemed like. Coming up the first little wooded rise, I caught sight of a small brown bird flitting through the undergrowth—a thrush. A tail-bobbing thrush with a rusty colored back end. A hermit thrush, first of the year.
Yesterday’s snow patches had vanished from along the top of the upper trail. Against the afternoon sunlight, the fuzz on the branch-ends of a patch of staghorn sumac glowed like haloes. (For the first time I saw where it got its name.)
As we emerged into the open fields, I noticed a kestrel perched in the crown of a tree. The kestrel noticed Jack and me, too, apparently, because immediately it flew some distance away, where it hovered over the field for a bit. We continued to the summit, passing a pair of kinglets along the way. The wind blew with surprising strength up there—and not a little chill. I met fellow birder Jay, Beech Hill volunteer coordinator Amy, and an eastern phoebe scoping out the eaves of Beech Nut.
 American kestrel. We’d just started back down when I spotted a male harrier just landing in a shady spot near the base of the eastern slope. It didn’t stay there long. The kestrel was back on its snag—for a moment, anyway. Coming down the soggy lower trail, I heard only gulls.
Tonight the waxing moon is making things glow.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 5 p.m., I hiked the wooded trails.
1. American robin (voice)
2. Herring gull (voice)
3. Hermit thrush
4. Black-capped chickadee
5. Golden-crowned kinglet
6. American kestrel
7. Eastern phoebe
8. Northern harrier
Elsewhere
9. American crow
10. House finch
11. Pileated woodpecker
12. Hairy woodpecker
13. House sparrow
14. Tufted titmouse
15. Rock pigeon
16. European starling
17. Song sparrow
 Moon.
Tags: American crow, American kestrel, American robin, black-capped chickadee, eastern phoebe, golden-crowned kinglet, hairy woodpecker, hermit thrush, herring gull, house finch, house sparrow, northern harrier, pilated woodpecker, rock pigeon, song sparrow, tufted titmouse
Posted in Lists, Observations | No Comments »
Wednesday, April 13th, 2011
 Remnant snow. 12 April addendum: At nearly midnight, I took Jack out into the impressively silent yard. The waves of the bay rushed softly in the distance. As we started back, we heard something—at first it sounded to me like a distant siren, but in an instant I recognized it as the yipping howls of coyotes. Jack did, too, apparently, because my usually silent dog began to bark like crazy.
I did not expect to find any birds at Beech Hill today. That’s because—after a gray, chilly morning, with temperatures somewhere in the 30s (F)—it rained pretty much all day. Steadily. Even powerfully a time or two. In fact, tonight, as I write this, it’s raining still.
 Boardwalk. But when I first looked out the window, I saw only a peppering of dark raindrop marks on the asphalt of the parking lot. And three crows stalking the yard next door. And when I first stepped outside with Jack, I heard the song of a house finch (as usual) and the voice of a mourning dove. The chips of house sparrows. And the high-pitched note of something—that, when I finally tracked it down out back, turned out to be a titmouse.
Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, I heard the distinctive, high-pitched warbly screams of an osprey up in the sky somewhere. First fish hawk of the year at Clam Cove.
Jack seemed slightly gimpy still, but I took him with me to do errands late in the day. Only herring gulls out there in the rain that I could see. On our return, I left him home and took a quick trip to Beech Hill in a steady rain.
Brought my raincoat but still expected to end up soaked. Hurried up the wooded trail. Couldn’t hear much besides the patter of rain. Crossed the swollen brook, took the curve around through the poplars of the upper trail. Saw something. Stopped in my tracks to look. There it was again: a phoebe, flitting about in the middle limbs of the aspens. Did not expect that. The tail-flipping bird paused for a moment, and I lifted my camera—could I actually get a bird photo on such a rainy day? Turned out I could not. Apparently I made the bird nervous. No doubt my yellow raincoat stood out against the gray-brown landscape.
 Trail stream. About half-way up, implausibly, I heard the cries of a gull off in the rush of rain somewhere. And then another bird flitted low through the trailside brush. A sparrow. I couldn’t ID it for sure, but I’m guessing a song sparrow.
No other birds today. Only a wet, rainy noisy hillside. Streams of water ran straight down the middle of the lower trail. Still a tiny patch of snow here and there (surprisingly). Mostly just the smattering sound of rain on last year’s fallen leaves.
I did end up soaked. Even though the hurried trip up and down took me only half an hour.
Back home, out back, I somehow managed to pick out the voices of a house finch, a cardinal, and a robin somewhere off in the pattering rain.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 5:15 p.m., I hiked the wooded trails.
1. Eastern phoebe
2. Herring gull
3. Song sparrow
Elsewhere
4. American crow
5. Mourning dove
6. House finch
7. House sparrow
8. Tufted titmouse
9. Osprey
10. Northern cardinal
11. American robin
 Frog pool.
Tags: American crow, American robin, eastern phoebe, herring gull, house finch, house sparrow, mourning dove, northern cardinal, song sparrow, tufted titmouse
Posted in Lists, Observations | No Comments »
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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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