Mount Megunticook.
I awoke this morning to the faint, swishy sounds of rain outside. But before very long the clouds moved away and the sun emerged and the damp pavement began to dry. And the wind began to blow.
And blow.
The open trail.
By early afternoon, the day had become bright and warm (nearly 60 degrees (F)). And despite the wind’s crescendo—it whirled leaves around, and sent paper litter flying along Route 1, and ruffled the feathers of the crows—I had a hankering to get back on my bicycle. But desk work on a Friday (i.e., the wish to finish up by the weekend) kept me inside until the sun began to sink. Still, through the day, I heard house finches outside. Heard the titmouse singing. Heard chickadees. A cardinal. And a goldfinch in full-out spring song.
Finally grabbed Jack and headed to Beech Hill.
The wind whipped and pushed and rocked the pickup. On our arrival, we saw two vehicles in the parking lot, whose icy snow had diminished noticeably from yesterday. In fact, water gurgled pretty swiftly across the trailhead through the copse of trees. Before very long, I heard the wind-swept queedle! of a blue jay.
Then I noticed a woman walking ahead of us, sidestepping the great swaths of mud up there. She appeared to be on her cell phone and leaning into the wind. Not until Jack and I got near and she turned around did I recognize her as my friend Liz. Jack was glad to see her, too, and we hiked the rest of the way together, copper-colored fields on either side.
Spruce.
The wind was coming from the northwest, from behind us, pushing us along. We met a woman hiking down. “Be careful, or your dog might blow away,” she said, or words to that effect. Great blue-white stripes of clouds filled the sky and collected in hazy masses along the northeast horizon over Mount Desert Island. Some of the other islands were sunlit, some in shade. We saw a good-sized flock of herring gulls swirling in the moving air out over the shore.
Droplets of water fell from the eaves of Beech Nut in crazy, curving trails, thanks to the wind. I’d guess it was blowing at close to thirty miles an hour. A colorful landscape—the sky above the inland hills and beyond the summit of Mount Megunticook, the coppery-bronze of the blueberry barrens and the vertical white stripes of birches—spread off to the west like an oil painting. The spruce grove seemed particularly green.
We descended into the maw of the wind. At one point, my hat blew off. We met a couple of young fellows coming up. They were wearing T-shirts.
Back at the parking lot, I heard chickadees. Then a white-breasted nuthatch. We watched the little birds for a moment before going our separate ways.
Beech Nut.
En route back home, again, I saw a mourning dove (again) on a utility line.
Tonight, no woodcocks yet, but I thought I heard a solitary spring peeper. The wind has subsided a little bit by now, and the cloud-cover has thickened—but it’s not thick enough to obscure a nearly full moon.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 5:30 p.m., I hiked the open trail.
1. Blue jay (voice)
2. Herring gull
3. Black-capped chickadee
4. White-breasted nuthatch
Elsewhere
5. American crow
6. Tufted titmouse
7. Northern cardinal
8. House finch
9. American goldfinch
10. Cedar waxwing
11. Mourning dove
Northwest distance.
Tags: American crow, black-capped chickadee, blue jay, Cedar waxwing, herring gull, house finch, mourning dove, northern cardinal, tufted titmouse, white-breated nuthatch
