Eastern towhee (female).
The day started out a little cloudy, but the sun soon emerged. A cardinal’s serenade came from up the back hill—and then the song of a house finch. Funny how I’d come to miss the song of this vociferous little bird, after it’d actually begun to get on my nerves with all its constant singing, and how thrilling it was to hear its familiar warbler out there. You don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone.
Foggy hillside.
As the day progressed, a pretty busy Monday (as usual), I found it seeming a somewhat quieter than usual, somewhat peaceful. The forecast called for a chance of thundershowers, and a pretty good westerly breeze stirred the leaves of the hardwoods. Not enough wind to bother my bike ride much—but during my ride, clouds gathered and the air grew cool. I did hear a chipping sparrow and saw gulls and a starling. Doves on the utility lines. But although the ride got me sweating (as usual), at points along my return path I felt a little chill.
Meanwhile, I got my new camera back. Or a replacement camera. (I’d been using my old one for a little over a week after having sent the new one to the service center in McAllen, Texas.) So that was exciting. I set it all up and carried it with Jack and me on our daily Beech Hill hike.
Which began very quietly. Something of a fog had descended by then, and a chill hung in the air. The breeze had diminished. None of the usual red-eyed vireos at the trailhead. Weird.
Gray catbird.
In fact, we’d gone probably three hundred yards before I so much as heard a bird: a goldfinch. Then the faint notes of a vireo. A distant chickadee. The mew! of a catbird. No rowdy singing or strident calls—until a towhee finally held forth about half-way up the trail. At the upper fields, where you get your first good look at the summit, Beech Nut was hidden by fog. Up at the spruce grove, I happened to see a phoebe catching flies from a perch up in one of the trees. And I heard the faint song of a robin. Mostly, the world seemed very silent. We did met a little group—two women and a toddler who thrilled at the chance to pet Jack—but even they were sort of quiet (not that I mind). One of them commented on how lovely it is up there even in the fog. I have to agree.
Returning through the woods, I heard the faint note of a towhee and another distant chickadee. That was all. Until we got close the parking lot and I noticed Jack on the alert. He’d seen something. I followed his gaze—and saw a couple of turkeys slinking quietly up a wooded slope.
I like quiet, the absence of big sound. I often consider it. I wonder if at some point in the future the world will be quieter than it is today. In fact, I feel sure it will be. But tonight, a moment ago, in the thickest fog we’ve had for weeks, I realized I couldn’t even hear a fog horn. It took a while to make out its very faint moan. It’s that still out.
Beech Nut.
However, I did just now hear a clap of thunder.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 5:15 p.m., I hiked the wooded trails.
1. American goldfinch (voice)
2. Red-eyed vireo (voice)
3. Black-capped chickadee (voice)
4. Gray catbird
5. Eastern towhee
6. Cedar waxwing
7. Common yellowthroat (voice)
8. American crow
9. Eastern phoebe
10. American robin (voice)
11. Song sparrow (voice)
12. Wild turkey
Elsewhere
13. Northern cardinal
14. House finch
15. Herring gull
16. Chipping sparrow
17. Tufted titmouse
18. European starling
19. Mourning dove
20. House sparrow
