The trail ascending.
Before I’d even fully awakened I knew we’d had an overnight snowfall from the muffled sound of traffic on Route 1. But then I heard another confusing sound—the one that ultimately coaxed me out of bed (a little late)—like a table saw. When subsequently I heard the whine of a wood-chipper, I realized there must be a utility crew out there pruning trees. Which, sure enough, there was.
Eastern slope.
Snow showers had apparently persisted all night, judging by the inch or two of snowfall on the ground—and, of course, the persistence of the showers themselves. Not a lot of snow, but seemingly pretty steady. I saw a few of the resident crows flapping around in the trees.
While out sweeping snow (not deep nor heavy enough to shovel yet), I heard chickadees, titmice, and a solitary nuthatch.
By mid-morning, the rate of snowfall had increased, as had the depth of snow already fallen. Three inches of snowfall at least, maybe four. In early afternoon, seeing no signs of a let-up, I figured Jack and I’d better get our butts up Beech Hill.
Whereas the snow out my window seemed to be falling gently, the snow on the hill wasn’t falling at all—i.e., it was traveling horizontally, from approximately southwest to northeast. The wind was whipping at about 40 miles an hour, I bet. I’d dressed for it, at least, had worn gloves and had even pulled Jack’s vest on him, but still I felt vulnerable and exposed.
Beech Nut.
Jack, on the other hand, loved it. I hadn’t seen him in a decent snowfall before. He was absolutely overjoyed, wanted only to run and play, So tempting—but I kept him on his leash and simply tried to jog a bit myself, to let him run. I can tell you it wasn’t easy.
Impressive drifts had risen along the edges of the open trail. Snow muted the landscape, obscured the bay, softened all hard edges. Beech Nut seemed particularly lonesome and solitary.
We followed the faint footprints of some hiker from earlier in the day, but it had to have been a while. Aside from the chickadees at the parking lot,I hadn’t come upon any birds—until, at the very summit, I heard the high calls of what sounded like a lark. Then I actually saw the bird, flying around in the wind-whipped snowflakes, calling chew, chew and emitting a little chattering noise. A horned lark, I’m pretty sure.
As we descended again, I was mostly aware of how quickly my mustache had frozen. And I thought how my cheeks must’ve been red from the stinging cold. But toward the bottom, the wind let up, and the brilliant red of a patch of winterberries contrasted against the snowy hillside.
Elsewhere today, birds were active. Aside from the smaller perching birds, I also spotted mourning doves, pigeons, and gulls. Not a bad list, for the first designated snow day of the season.
Winterberry.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 1:15 p.m, I hiked the open trail.
1. Black-capped chickadee
2. Horned lark
Elsewhere
3. American crow
4. Tufted titmouse
5. White-breasted nuthatch
6. Mourning dove
7. Herring gull
8. Rock pigeon
Tags: American crow, black-capped chickadee, herring gull, horned lark, mourning dove, rock pigeon, tufted titmouse, white-breasted nuthatch
