American kestrel, Beech Hill.
What I saw when first I looked out the window was fog. Well, more accurately, I saw familiar objects obscured—leafless hardwood trees, wood-frame structures, a blacktop two-lane carrying cars and trucks, the tires of the cars and trucks making whooshing sounds. Somewhere in the diffuse grayness, a cardinal called. A song sparrow. Mourning dove. Chickadee. Crow.
Foggy Beech Hill trail.
The fog persisted. During the morning I envisioned a sort of spookily cloaked midday walk up Beech Hill—but then it began to rain. Hard. Then I envisioned a wet walk.
But by the time dog and I headed up there, the rain had stopped and the fog had returned, and my first vision held true. The air was damp and cool. Visibility might’ve been about fifty yards or so, tops. I figured I’d hear a few birds but wouldn’t see any. Right away I heard song sparrow, titmouse, flicker, chickadee. We began a brisk walk up the steep part, and I wasn’t paying attention when a fair-sized bird flew from the top of one of the birches and veered around and behind us and into the trees. A kestrel. Damn. I meant to keep my eyes peeled for one of those. We stopped, dog and I, and retraced our steps a bit toward the wooded trailside. Didn’t see the little falcon—but I heard the guttural croak of a raven. Loud.
We retraced our steps clear down to the road, following the raven’s peculiar call: a long low croak, then two quick throaty notes, over and over. It seemed so near, but in the fog I couldn’t spot it. Until it flew. Probably a hundred feet away or so, across the road.
Beech Nut.
So we turned and climbed again.
Lots of moody-gray, pensive, stagnant, mysterious photos of misty trees. Beech Nut at the summit was faded into the gray. We circled the hut, as is our habit, and on the back side, somewhere in the neutral sky, croaked a raven. A different call, still peculiar. Again, it seemed so near.
On our way back down I thought, “This has been a great hike.” Then I caught myself. “And it isn’t over yet.” It was kind of like a prayer. Because, soon after, rounding a curve in the trail, I heard the initial raven’s croak again—and a big black bird flapped very near around the bend, spotted us, veered away. And I got a diffuse photo.
Common raven.
Toward the bottom, I had a thought to look again for the kestrel at the wooded trailside, but something the dog did distracted me. Then I heard, above us, the soft flapping of a bird’s wings. I looked quickly up to see the falcon alight on a tree twenty or thirty yards away. Thanks to my telephoto lens, I got a few photos of the handsome damp-feathered male.
Returning from Beech Hill, I drove past a flock of about six or eight roadside wild turkeys. Later, I saw a couple starlings perched in the still-leafless trees.
And still the fog persisted. In fact, right now, at about 9:20 p.m., the night is foggy still.
Today’s List
Northern cardinal
Song sparrow
Mourning dove
American robin
Black-capped chickadee
American goldfinch
American crow
Herring gull
American kestrel
Common raven
Tufted titmouse
Northern flicker
Wild turkey
European starling
Crows.
Tags: American crow, American goldfinch, American kestrel, American robin, black-capped chickadee, common raven, European starling, herring gull, mourning dove, northern cardinal, northern flicker, song sparrow, tufted titmouse, wild turkey
