Common yellowthroat.
Dawn came early to a sun-soaked world. Nearing summer solstice. Noticed a little breeze in the greenery and so didn’t bother with the digital recorder—there would’ve been too much rush and rustle—so dog and I took only camera and binoculars and leash this day.
Eastern towhee (female).
Interesting contrast with yesterday’s burgeoning overcast, and its birds galore. Today I counted noticeably fewer species. But among them were a couple mentionables: 1) as we reached the far parking lot at Beech Hill Road, I heard the rambling, chippity burbles of a winter wren coming from a shady patch of woods across the road; 2) as we arrived back to the Rockville Street parking lot, having walked the whole hill, I heard the high, thin whistles of a broad-winged hawk. The former was a first-sighted bird on the hill; the latter could’ve been a blue jay’s impersonation. But the jays I’ve heard lately have all delivered their standard, species-specific calls—and I didn’t even hear one today. I’m guessing it was for sure a hawk I heard.
(Mainly, I’m psyched to have heard a winter wren.)
Otherwise, our hike revealed the usual frantic yellowthroat parents, the protective towhee parents, the exhausted chickadee parents, the secretive chestnut-sided parents. Catbird parents snuck around in the undergrowth. Robin parents gave out the alarm.
Cedar waxwing at Beech Nut.
Meantime, Jack has a nose for rodents, I’ve observed. He invariably—well, other than one time involving a gray squirrel—notices any squirrel or chipmunk or mouse or vole before I do. Today we both watched a mouse (or vole) hurry across the trail just in front of us. Distantly, I spotted a solitary herring gull soaring over toward Chickawaukee Lake.
Also interesting to me is how some birds seem to sleep later than others. Rose-breasted grosbeaks, for instance, don’t seem to begin to call nearly as early as vireos, ovenbirds, robins. And today, I’d nearly climbed the whole of the hill before I heard a redstart—whereas they were everywhere on the way back down.
But perhaps the most thrilling part of the day occurred on our return down the lower wooded trail when an ovenbird flitted up fairly near us and began walking slowly along a limb, headed away. I’ve seen this behavior each the past few years: it means we’ve gotten too near their chicks. Today the bird didn’t get close enough for a great photo, but I still have hope of one this year. The ovenbird is one of my favorite species.
Common yellowthroat.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 6:30 a.m., I walked all trails.
1. Ovenbird
2. Red-eyed vireo
3. Chestnut-sided warbler
4. American robin
5. Common yellowthroat
6. Eastern towhee
7. Veery
8. Black-capped chickadee
9. American goldfinch
10. American crow
11. Gray catbird
12. Mourning dove
13. Cedar waxwing
14. Alder flycatcher
15. American redstart
16. Herring gull
17. Field sparrow
18. Eastern phoebe
19. Savannah sparrow
20. Tree swallow
21. Yellow warbler
22. White-throated sparrow
23. Chipping sparrow
24. Winter wren
25. Song sparrow
26. Northern parula
27. Hermit thrush
28. Broad-winged hawk
Elsewhere
29. Northern cardinal
30. House finch
31. Herring gull
Beech Nut.
Tags: alder flycatcher, American crow, American goldfinch, American redstart, American robin, black-capped chickadee, broad-winged hawk, Cedar waxwing, chestnut-sided warbler, chipping sparrow, common yellowthroat, eastern phoebe, eastern towhee, field sparrow, gray catbird, hermit thrush, herring gull, house finch, mourning dove, northern cardinal, northern parula, ovenbird, red-eyed vireo, savannah sparrow, song sparrow, tree swallow, veery, white-throated sparrow, winter wren, yellow warbler
