American crows.
This morning dawned bright and cold. It being Sunday, I took my time getting ready to take a leisurely walk up Beech Hill. We hit the open trail today—fewer ticks, shorter hike, better visibility. En route, a little cluster of crows rose from the South Street roadside.
Yellow-rumped warblers.
The air—ah, the air. Cold. Antic. Fragrant. October air. I was thinking that October might be my favorite month, in fact. The suddenness of the change, the abrupt arrival of autumn. The luscious ripe smell. The colorful landscape here on the 44th parallel. But it’s more than that. It’s the sense of nervousness, of living on the edge, of needing to stock up, hunker down, split wood—that inescapable ancestral memory, the certainty of winter, the hunch that life is fleeting, and we all must die.
Also pumpkins. Orange, round, hefty pumpkins.
I heard two robins on the hill today, their voices fluttering in the wind. I saw two or three juncos tittering along the trail. And chickadees, jays, crows. Lots of crows. In fact, as we ascended the upper open trail, a great swarm of crows—a mass murder you might say, numbering two or three dozen—rose from a wide clump of vegetation and headed southeast amid a cacophony of caws.
Sharp-shinned hawk.
Still innumerable yellow-rumps. And as the crows receded, I spotted a lone bird approaching from the east, over the bay. I trained my defective binoculars on it (I love my Nikon Monarchs, but the eyepiece is acting up) and saw that it was a hawk. Conveniently, it flew right over, and I saw that it was a sharpie.
The landscape was lovely, lit by sun, shaded by cloud. The day, early so bright, had begun to have shadow—which made for sweet photographs for a time but then, as the shadow overflowed everything, dimmed the world. As we returned to the pickup, all was overcast, and a raven called. It’d become a different sort of day from how it started.
The clouds stuck around for most of the day but parted as evening approached. I mowed the lawn, which felt good. And then, come nightfall, bright Jupiter rose—about the brightest I can remember it ever seeming to me.
Yellow-rumped warblers.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 8 a.m., I hiked the open trail.
1. American robin (voice)
2. Yellow-rumped warbler
3. Slate-colored junco
4. Black-capped chickadee (voice)
5. American crow
6. Sharp-shinned hawk
7. Blue jay (voice)
8. Northern flicker (voice)
9. White-throated sparrow (voice)
10. Common raven (voice)
Elsewhere
11. Herring gull
Inland hills.
Tags: American crow, American robin, black-capped chickadee, blue jay, common raven, northern flicker, sharp-shinned hawk, slate-colored junco, white-throated sparrow, yellow-rumped warbler
