Broad-winged hawk.

Birds don’t sing much in the rain, I’ve noticed. Witness yesterday’s Beech Hill hike—just towhees and ovenbirds, mostly (with a couple exceptions). Quite an opposite experience today up there.

The day dawned a little damp but soon dried up. And warmed up. Oddly, my indoor rooms were much cooler than the humid outdoors. The usual house finches, house sparrows, crows. At one point in morning I looked up from my desk to see a pileated woodpecker light on a dead tree trunk near the parking lot and raced up for my camera. Soon as I stepped out onto the back deck, it flew off toward the south across the road.

Beech Nut.

And, lo, the sun emerged! That’s all I needed to head out cycling. Did my usual circuit—and heard birds’ voices everywhere. Yellow warblers, chestnut-sideds, parulas. Song sparrows and chipping sparrows. A red-winged blackbird near The Home Depot.

On my return in late afternoon, after wrapping up work a little early, I grabbed dog and we drove to the hill. By then the sun had gone hazy, but the air remained warm. Plenty of warblers singing. Chickadees. The usual cries of gulls. Veery and hermit thrush, towhee and catbird. About half way to the top along the upper wooded trail, we rounded a corner and a large bird flapped up off the trail and perched in a tree maybe a twenty-five yards away. A hawk, brown and white, eyeing us suspiciously. I snapped off a few photos and confirmed its ID later: a broadwing.

White-throats and song sparrows up toward the summit. And catbirds of course. Coming along the edge of an upper field, I heard the chatter and wingbeats of a humming bird that we’d apparently startled off some routine mission. Hiked up and over and heard Both a robin and a rose-breasted grosbeak singing down near the opposite parking lot—interesting to hear their vaguely similar songs together like that.

Coming back up, I spotted what appeared to be a hummingbird zipping about some brush on the upslope. Looked up that way through binoculars and finally saw its green sheen. Later, I heard the subtle dee-dee! notes of another hummer. Plenty on the hill this year. (Still no alder flycatchers, though. And only the one red-eyed vireo so far.)

Near the wood-edge, I watched a tree swallow fly over, chittering as it flew. Still muddy down the lower wooded trail.

Caterpillars.

Three mourning doves at the edge of South Street on our way back home. I saw these despite some discomfort from the black fly that flew directly into my eye during our hike. (They were out and biting.) Looked in the rear-view mirror and saw the little dead fly there, floating just above my lower eyelid. I tried not to blink the rest of the way—but it somehow ended up in the corner of my eye, where I managed to dab it away.

This evening, I watched the crows bed down. Then, again, I heard the late robins’ songs. And (again), in response, the single note of a nearby veery. And, finally, the crazy jumbling notes that an ovenbird sometimes makes—when alarmed, I suppose, or just having awakened from a nightmare—not very long before darkness fell.

Beech Hill List
Beginning at 5 p.m., I hiked all trails.

1. Black-throated green warbler (voice)
2. Ovenbird (voice)
3. Chestnut-sided warbler (voice)
4. Herring gull (voice)
5. American goldfinch (voice)
6. Black-capped chickadee
7. American redstart (voice)
8. Eastern towhee
9. White-throated sparrow
10. Common yellowthroat
11. Black-and-white warbler (voice)
12. Veery (voice)
13. Broad-winged hawk
14. Blue jay (voice)
15. Hermit thrush (voice)
16. Yellow warbler (voice)
17. American crow (voice)
18. Gray catbird
19. Ruby-throated hummingbird
20. Song sparrow
21. American robin
22. Rose-breasted grosbeak (voice)
23. Northern parula (voice)
24. Eastern phoebe
25. Magnolia warbler (voice)
26. Tree swallow

Elsewhere

27. House finch
28. House sparrow
29. Pileated woodpecker
30. Red-winged blackbird
31. European starling
32. Chipping sparrow
33. Mourning dove
34. Northern cardinal