Two islands.
Worked late, slept in. Faint snow showers had persisted all night apparently—though no accumulation here at Clam Cove. Through the south windows I watched two or three crows dine on this and that in the yard next door. I thought a while about roadside crows, and how the species—like all species—is so driven by food. And mating of course. But not at this time of year.
Beech Nut.
I undertook a long project today [replacing the keyboard on my MacBook Pro] and so didn’t even look up until the light had nearly gone from the blue-gray sky. Still snow-showering, but a break was in order. Jack was eager for the end to his Sunday boredom.
None else on the hill, although footprints in the mud were proof of earlier hikers. The world, already dim today, enveloped us in even deeper dimness. I heard the faint notes of a chickadee as we began to ascend.
Snow lay in small patches on fallen logs and clingy dead leaves and the stalks of weeds and in other rough exposed places. The fields held intermittent white crusts of it. My eyes kept moving over to the distant curves of Route 17 to the south, where the headlights of cars formed a sort of twinkling snaky shape. At the summit, the chilly breeze picked up, but still I heard the far cry of jays down in the northeast wood. Two islands floated faintly on the bay.
Returning, I heard—again distant—the caws of crows. Saw no birds, saw nothing but bare trees and swaying grass and faintly falling snow.
Tonight the snow showers continue. The air seems still and not too cold. A gentle introduction to the frozen season.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 3:45 p.m., I hiked the open trail.
1. Black-capped chickadee (voice)
2. Blue jay (voice)
3. American crow (voice)
Route 17.
