Yellow-rumped warbler.
Common yellowthroat.
I heard the quay! of a red-eyed vireo when Jack and I stepped out of the pickup in the Rockville Street parking lot. The wooded Beech Hill slope moved and whispered before us as a brisk, cool breeze stirred the clean, dry air. We began to walk and soon heard the cheeps and burbles of a small band of black-capped chickadees.
At this time of year, few birds are very vocal. The rare spring song will emerge as by accident, like a hiccup, but most nesting species are secretive and silent, rarely offering up more than a subtle incognito chip note. Chickadees, though, always hang out in little groups, and they seem ceaseless in their communication: I’m over here. What’ve you got there. I heard something down below. Here’s some grubs and berries. You kids don’t stray too far.
Yellow-rumped warbler.
And however it ends up happening, at this time of year, the chickadees are rarely alone. I’ll hear them up ahead along the trail and slow my pace. Once within view, I’ll begin to scan the trees for small swift movements. Sometimes these will be white-cheeked birds with black caps, but just as often they’ll be wood warblers or thrushes or other miniature passerines. It feels like a magic trick, in fact. At a season when it’s hard to list many birds because of their shyness, all you have to do is listen for chickadees.
Today was no exception. The first black-caps I heard were accompanied by a good-sized group of yellow-rumped warblers that zipped and flew quickly through the undergrowth, chasing each other and pecking at twigs and finding morsels there. I stood for about five minutes or so watching them—must’ve been at least a half dozen of ’em. And a couple white-throated sparrows popped up into view, as well. And a solitary veery was a surprise. In the distance I heard the call of a raven.
Turkey vulture.
I didn’t hear the second gang of chickadees until we’d returned over the summit and begun our descent into the lower wooded trail. More white-throats accompanied this group, too, as did a solitary black-throated green warbler, hopping and flitting silently amid the greenery, not uttering so much as a tiny chip.
At this point, I found myself in The Zone, living in the moment, tiptoeing down the trail. As the voices of the second group of chickadees receded behind us, I already heard the sounds of the third group up ahead. These birds moved with brown creepers, wood-pewees, titmice, and a black-throated green warbler. The titmice were rather vocal, but the brown creepers emitted only their sibilant chip note. The pewees were utterly silent.
Since I was about nine or ten years old, among my favorite things to do in life has been to lose myself in the magic of a wood. I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun.
Black-capped chickadee.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 8:15 a.m., I hiked all trails.
1. Red-eyed vireo
2. Black-capped chickadee
3. Common yellowthroat
4. Gray catbird
5. Mourning dove
6. Yellow-rumped warbler
7. White-throated sparrow
8. Veery
9. Common raven
10. Eastern towhee
11. Cedar waxwing (voice)
12. Savannah sparrow
13. Herring gull
14. Turkey vulture
15. Blue jay (voice)
16. American goldfinch (voice)
17. Black-throated blue warbler
18. Eastern wood-pewee
19. Brown creeper (voice)
20. Tufted titmouse
21. Black-throated green warbler
Elsewhere
22. American crow
Black-throated blue warbler.
Tags: American goldfinch, black-capped chickadee, black-throated blue warbler, black-throated green warbler, blue jay, brown creeper, Cedar waxwing, common raven, common yellowthroat, eastern towhee, eastern wood-pewee, gray catbird, herring gull, mourning dove, red-eyed vireo, savannah sparrow, turkey vulture, veery, white-throated sparrow, yellow-rumped warbler
