Crow taking flight (note wing mark on snow).
Bright sun. Brilliant blue sky. Huge drifts of snowfall.
The open trail.
Considering the snow never let up until well after dark last night, I hadn’t done much shoveling, so I ended up devotin much of this morning to snow-removal. Unluckily, winter storms tend to come from the northeast or northwest, and the business side of my place is the south side, where most of the drifts end up; luckily, the sun warmed that side well above today’s 20 degrees (F) air temperature (approximately). In fact, I worked up a real good sweat. A couple drifts were two-three feet high. I spent nearly two hours at it, non-stop. Hard work—but the reward was a clean, clear business side. Plus, the sun had soon melted the faint remnants away.
Sure put a dent in my workday, but I didn’t mind.
Crows stalked the parking lot, plucked grub from snow piles. Heard a chickadee out back and the sweet spring song of a titmouse from the neighbor’s yard. A lovely day for a little snowshoeing.
Dog and I set out a little earlier today, with the sun still high enough to lend a little warmth to things.
Shadows.
Blasted into the Beech Hill parking lot at about 3:30. One other vehicle had been there, I could see—and a couple of people had packed down a nice shoeshow track. (During yesterday’s big snow I wondered if our path would stick, and sure enough today’s hikers followed a couple of our wacky curves.) The hillside fields loomed bright and white and flawless up ahead.
It was a nice hike. Got our pulse rates up but without yesterday’s extreme wind-chill—the still air and still-warm sun helped. No clouds in the sky except for away out over the islands. No birds that I could see or hear.
During out descent we met another snowshoer and her German shepherd dog. All four of us agreed that it was a gorgeous winter day for a hike up Beech Hill.
No brown creeper at the little roadside copse. No chickadee across the road. But standing in the parking lot, after pulling off my snowshoes, I heard something—the high call of a bird at some distance. At first it sounded finch-like. Then I thought it a downy woodpecker. At last I made out its notes as those of an American (or, more accurately, Canadian) robin.
Sliding out onto Beech Hill Road, I came upon a pair of mourning dove in the middle of the right-of-way. They flapped frantically off over into the hillside trees.
Beech Nut.
Elsewhere today, I saw only a few herring gulls. I did hear reports of hawks, though—including another red-shouldered up Powerhouse Hill from my place (could it be the same bird as last year, now an adult?)—but saw none. I will, though. See hawks. On some other sweet Maine day.
Tonight I stepped out to check on Orion and Sirius. Admired the seven-foot plow drift at the edge of my parking lot and thought—in not very many weeks, woodcocks will again be whistling overhead in their miraculous spring aerial displays.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 3:30 p.m., I hiked the open trail.
1. American robin (voice)
2. Mourning dove
Elsewhere
3. American crow
4. Black-capped chickadee
5. Tufted titmouse
6. Herring gull
Penobscot Bay.
Tags: American crow, American robin, black-capped chickadee, herring gull, mourning dove, tufted titmouse
