Golden-crowned kinglet.
Birds of Beech Hill, October
Golden-crowned kinglet.
It’s not so cold,
not so cold as yesterday here.
The air is still, that’s why.
And sun splashes into my eyes,
for a moment blinding me
when Jack and I turn to climb the hill
but also warming my eastern side.
As Jack stops to pee
I hear jays and chickadees
but I’ve learned not to say out loud
the word “chickadee”
or he will bark.
Hairy woodpecker.
I hear the chips of yellow-rumps.
I hear the voice of a robin.
I hear the cawing of crows,
many crows, a cacaphony.
They’re holding a convention
on the summit of the hill.
I first catch sight of their black backs
reflecting the sunlight just over the crest,
but when they see Jack and me approaching
they lift up as pulled by kite strings
the cawing, cawing crows
and so I bring up my camera
to take a few group photos as
from somewhere behind me
I hear the croak of a raven.
But we don’t turn away
Jack and I
from the rising cacaphony of crows.
White-throated sparrow.
At the summit I look briefly
at the scenic bay that takes the breaths away
from the summer people at other seasons
and the leaf-peepers of his time of year,
but only briefly
because I’m more interested
in the cawing crows now far below.
As we return and round the open trail,
a single crow flaps left of us
and lands in the gold-and-russet barren
of the southern slope.
It doesn’t fly away when we stop
as crows tend to do
but stands watching,
perhaps waiting for us to walk away
so it can forage there
in the gone-by blueberry field
but likely for some other reason
completely foreign to Jack and me.
Black-capped chickadee.
Nearing the bottom of the trail
I’m surprised by a golden-crowned kinglet
flitting about in a pint-sized spruce
not a dozen feet away.
I raise my camera
but then it’s gone,
so as Jack waits patiently
I turn my camera toward a junco
pecking around by the road.
We’re standing quietly, I suppose,
is why the kinglet returns
to an even nearer spruce branch
and presents its comely eye-stripe
and shows off its golden crown
so I can take its picture.
Today, after some minor experimentation, I confirmed my suspicion that groups of crows do, in fact, tend to take flight when a human in view suddenly stops moving.
Four crows, Beech Hill, Rockport, Maine, 24 October 2010.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 8:30 a.m., I hiked the open trail.
1. Blue jay (voice)
2. Black-capped chickadee
3. Hairy woodpecker
4. Pileated woodpecker (voice)
5. Yellow-rumped warbler
6. American robin (voice)
7. Northern flicker (voice)
8. American crow
9. Common raven (voice)
10. White-throated sparrow
11. Song sparrow
12. American goldfinch (voice)
13. Golden-crowned kinglet
14. Dark-eyed junco
Elsewhere
15. Herring gull
16. Ring-billed gull
Five crows.
Tags: American crow, American goldfinch, American robin, black-capped chickadee, blue jay, common raven, dark-eyed junco, golden-crowned kinglet, hairy woodpecker, herring gull, northern flicker, pileated woodpecker, ring-billed gull, song sparrow, white-thraoted sparrow, yellow-rumped warbler
