Tufted titmouse.

Usually, Nature gets it right. Usually, the first big winter snow arrives after the trees have lost their leaves, as it should be. Usually the planet’s animal life has had a chance to stock up, migrate, or burrow down before the first blast hits. Sometimes there comes an early or late storm. Sometimes there are earthquakes and volcanos—or even a wayward asteroid will cause a mass extinction. But usually, all things happen according to plan. A plan that’s taken millions of years to get just right. No, billions.

Jack on the trail.

As promised, this early morning, the sky clouded over and the wind kicked up and the air brought swirls of frozen precipitation. A crow or two ventured out, and gulls. Neither Jack or I ventured out until late in the day, however, joining more other travelers than might usually hazard a trip on such slippery roads. After all, it’s the day before Thanksgiving.

But we were the only ones whose destination was Beech Hill.

Interestingly, here at our place we got little snow accumulation, thanks (I guess) to the warm breath of nearby Clam Cove. Three miles inland, however, the slopes of our favorite hiking hill held five or six inches of snow. Heavy, sticky, wet snow. In a few places, small trees bowed down in it, obstructing the trail, and I had to shake off enough snow that their branches rose would enough to let us pass. At the outset of our hike, in about a two-minute period, I saw titmice, chickadees, and a brown creeper—but no other birds appeared up in the frigid wind or along the drifted trail edge.

We hurried up and back. Jack loves snow and had a heck of a time. I don’t mind it either, but my crazy decision to trot up the steep stretch resulted in cakes of snow on the calves of my jeans, which liked to froze my fleshy calves. And it’s a good thing I wore gloves, is all I’ve got to say.

Birch.

But what a wonderful thing it is to be the first to lay down human tracks and dog tracks on such a familiar, well-traveled way.

Fine flakes continued to swirl until well past dark, but now the sky is clear as crystal. The wind’s still whipping out there, true, but the leafless trees were ready for it. Nature, as usual, got it right this time.

Beech Hill List
Beginning at 3:30 p.m., I hiked the open trail.

1. Tufted titmouse
2. Black-capped chickadee
3. Brown creeper

Elsewhere

4. American crow
5. Herring gull