The open trail.

After a gray and drippy start, the first day of fall grew warm and muggy. Sunny, even, for long stretches. I scrambled around getting ready for my trip to Monhegan tomorrow while also doing some last minute desk work. I kind of missed having Jack around to distract me.

I drove places in late morning, I cycled around in early afternoon. While cycling, I heard jays, saw crows, heard waxwings, saw a solitary turkey vulture circling amid a swarm of herring gulls—and at one point along Route 1, a song sparrow suddenly burst out in, well, song. That was a surprise.

Confusing fall warber (yellow-rump).

After I closed up shop, I drove over to Beech Hill, Jackless. A flock of laughing gulls was circling over Powerhouse Hill, apparently feeding on flying insects.

Judging by the cars in the parking lot, several other hikers had taken advantage of the pleasant temperature, although a thick haze had moved over by then. Right away I heard jays. And the cry of a towhee. Then chickadees and, suddenly, a tiny explosion of the chips of warblers. The first chip belonged to a yellowthroat, clearly, that was calling from some undergrowth behind me. But the rest came from a cluster of treetops up by the gate. As I approached, I could see about a half-dozen little birds up there. Couldn’t get a good look at the flitting birds, but at least one was a yellow-rump. (The others might’ve been parulas and/or blackpolls and/or black-throated greens.) While watching the warblers, I heard the voices of a nuthatch, a titmouse, and a downy woodpecker.

The flurry of warblers got me thinking that migration has begun and that my trip offshore would prove fruitful—for yet another year.

Coming up the trail, I met an older couple with binoculars dangling from their necks. “Are you birders?” I asked. “Yes,” was their reply. We talked for five or ten minutes about birding, about Beech Hill, about Monhegan. I asked if they’d seen a harrier, and they had.

Birch.

I saw no harrier today, but I did see a jay fly over. And a few small, unidentifiable birds. Migration time is exciting.

I also heard a flicker. A goldfinch. Crows.

Tonight I tidied up, gathered things together, began to pack. A minute ago, I stepped out into a foggy night. Crickets are trilling, frogs are singing, and a few little songbirds are tweeting softly to each other from the trees. I couldn’t ID their voices—sparrows, maybe?—but I have a feeling they, too, are in a state of expectation.

Beech Hill List
Beginning at 5 p.m., I hiked the open trail.

1. Blue jay
2. Eastern towhee (voice)
3. Black-capped chickadee (voice)
4. Common yellowthroat (voice)
5. White-breasted nuthatch (voice)
6. Yellow-rumped warbler
7. Downy woodpecker (voice)
8. Tufted titmouse (voice)
9. Northern flicker (voice)
10. American goldfinch (voice)
11. American crow (voice)

Elsewhere

12. Herring gull
13. Rock pigeon
14. Cedar waxwing
15. Turkey vulture
16. Song sparrow
17. Laughing gull
18. Mourning dove