The western slope.
Last night the temperature dipped into the teens (F); today, it rose into the 20s. My parking lot resembles a skating rink—albeit a lumpy, really bad skating rink. This whole week has felt like it belongs deep in winter—Monday’s snow hangs tight, and the bare tree branches of the hardwoods, when they sway in the chill breeze, clatter and crack faintly with the cold.
Snowy field.
But crows still cawed in the oaks out back, and I heard the faint voices of chickadees, and the sun shone throughout its brief photoperiod, and the sky held brilliant color.
Another busy workday kept dog and me from hitting the trail until late afternoon. Well, three o’clock or so—but these days that’s barely an hour before sundown.
Just us on the hill. The snow crunched under my boots, which is maybe why I heard no calls of birds. But I saw none either—not headed up, not at the summit, not headed down. All there was was old snow and a thin, packed walking trail and rock-hard earth where the wind had swept the snow away. From a distance, I could see that Chickawaukie Lake is freezing over. Good news for New Year’s ice fishermen.
Wore layers, brought gloves. Heck, it’s not even a half-hour hike—but still my face and fingers got to stinging thanks to the insistence of a wind from the west. Not a strong wind or a particularly steady one, but strong and steady enough.
Sundown.
At one point I thought I heard jays; at another I thought I heard crows. Had my hood up by then, though, and I couldn’t confirm the voices of either.
Coming down, Jack must’ve gotten snow caught in his paw, because suddenly he began to limp. But his limp soon vanished. All was well.
Still, both of us were thankful for the heater in the pickup. I blasted the air on “high” during subsquent errands.
During subsequent errands, I saw gulls and a couple pigeons—that was about it. But I did buy four bags of pet-safe salt to sprinkle on the parking lot.
Tonight is clear. The stars are out. Up the black back hill, I hear tree branches are clattering and cracking faintly with the cold.
11 p.m. note: Just now stepped out onto the back deck to look at the starry sky and heard—then barely caught sight of—a pair of small critters leaping and scrabbling from oak to oak. I have a feeling they might’ve been flying squirrels.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 3:15 p.m., I hiked the open trail
(No bird species seen today.)
Elsewhere
1. American crow
2. Black-capped chickadee
3. Herring gull
4. Rock pigeon
The trail descending.
Tags: American crow, black-capped chickadee, herring gull, rock pigeon
