Beech Hill sunset.
Another sunny, sub-freezing morning. Jack and I sort of trundled down the back deck stairs and out into the yard to pee (well, Jack). Despite the stream of cars along Route 1, Jack’s was in no hurry. He’d sooner sniff the ground where squirrels had been. But suddenly he and I both looked up at some movement low in the overhanging oaks just in time to see a bird swoop behind the building. Some kind of reddish-bellied hawk, looked like. I aborted Jack’s mission, and we both dashed back inside.
Cooper's hawk.
Got my camera. Snuck around the south side of the building—just in time to see the hawk flap out and up into a limb of an oak toward the far side of the parking lot. By its size and manner, I figured it for a cooper’s hawk. I snuck closer, snapped off some shots. Then it took flight again away behind the neighbors house, where I know he’s kept feeders in the past. The bird was larger than a sharpie. Cooper’s, I felt sure.
After that little flurry of excitement, things settled down in a hurry. I worked, Jack napped. (In fact, I took delivery of a fancy-pants new photo printer, which proved sweetly distracting for a couple hours, at least.) Wasn’t until quite late in the day that I figured it was time for some kind of excursion.
Quick trip to the bank, then to Beech Hill. No cars in the parking lot. A golden sun setting behind a herd of far clouds. Not a lot of wind at all, and I didn’t need gloves—but I was thankful to have worn a heavy parka.
Beech Nut.
Mainly, I watched the sky. The clouds. They marched along to the east, above the islands. To the south, they cloaked the blazing orange sun that limned them. (I tend to eschew the excruciatingly poetic verb “to limn,” but it fits perfectly what the sun was doing to these clouds.) To the west, they loomed high above the inland hills. Dog and I stood a few minutes on the Beech Nut porch, just soaking things up. So quiet. You could hear a little rush of wind, distant car tires, and the faint whine of a chainsaw. No birds.
Barred owl.
Coming back down, as we passed the place where I last saw the barred owl yesterday, I scanned the scrubby branches just in case. It was probably 4 o’clock (ET) by then, the sun just sinking behind the hills. But amid the dimness down the slope, I saw a lighter shape amid the scrub. Trained my binoculars on the shape. Sure enough, an owl.
My guess is it was the same owl as yesterday. A barred. Sitting almost exactly where I last saw yesterday’s bird. Looking away from us into a little open meadow below. I tried for photos, but the light was low. Then the bird took wing and plunged out of sight. I imagined it snatching a meadow vole.
Not long after I stopped to listen. Thought I’d heard a little tweet. There it was, sure enough, along the trail back behind us. I turned and listened. Heard it again. Watched. Saw a small bird, a sparrow, flit over the trail and down in the direction of the owl. Judging strictly by the sound of its note, I decided to count it as a tree sparrow. After all, I did see one close up very near the same spot a few short weeks ago.
Western sky.
Not much else to report except the gulls in town. I didn’t get out as much today as I might’ve liked to.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 3:45 p.m., I hiked the open trail.
1. Barred owl
2. Tree sparrow
Elsewhere
3. Cooper’s hawk
4. American crow
5. Herring gull
Tags: American crow, American tree sparrow, barred owl, cooper's hawk, herring gull
