Beech Hill.
The sky this morning—the light of the day—shone with a bright gray sort of light, just shy of yellow. Overcast, but not a thick overcast. Not too cold. I swept the couple inches of snowfall from yesterday out of the dooryard. By midday, the clouds had closed in a bit, though, and more snow had begun to fall. Not like yesterday’s snow—finer flakes, and driven by a bit of a northwest breeze.
Jack on the open trail.
I worked on a Sunday. At one point, I got jogged out of my concentration by a cacophony of crows, and so I dashed upstairs for my camera. Another hawk, all right, but this one perched far away in the tip of a conifer out behind the neighbor’s place. Back downstairs for more work.
But eventually I awoke Jack from his bed beside my desk and we jumped into the pickup.
No other cars in the Beech Hill parking lot, but as I was pulling on my showshoes a compact slowed and turned in. Or tried to. After three or four tire-spinning attempts to make it up the drive, the car sped away. I didn’t see it again.
The snow was really starting to come down. No birds at the base of the hill, but about half-way up I heard something, stopped, identified the call of a flicker.
Seemed that several people had hiked the hill today—most in snowshoes—judging by the nicely packed trail. When Jack and I turned and descended, the falling snow seemed to be peaking. I wouldn’t call it a heavy snow, but it wasn’t a light snow.
Once I thought I heard the croak of a raven, but I couldn’t be sure.
Didn’t see or hear any other birds, or cars, or people, or dogs, or other signs of earthly life—although I stopped a number of times to listen. Not even a passing car. All I sensed were the tiny percussive sounds of snowflakes landing, like the sound of faintly crinkling paper.
Flag.
Tonight, not long ago, I stepped out onto the deck to check the sky and was surprised to see a shadowy winged shape fly up from near the ground to somewhere up in the low limbs of a small tree across the parking lot. It was completely silent. I wondered if I were imagining things—but I’m pretty sure it was an owl. Judging by its behavior, I’m gonna call it a barred.
But don’t quote me on it.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 3:45 p.m., I hiked the open trail.
1. Northern flicker (voice)
Elsewhere
2. American crow
3. Red-tailed hawk
4. Herring gull
5. Downy woodpecker
6. Barred owl
Beech Nut.
Tags: American crow, barred owl, downy woodpecker, herring gull, northern flicker, red-tailed hawk
