Beech Hill trail.
Remnant clouds overspread the landscape first thing, but soon strips of blue began moving in slowly from the south. By mid-morning, the April sun blasted freely against the fresh-fallen snow, searing my eyes. As far as the neighborhood birds were concerned, there’d been no snowstorm yesterday—the house finch sang, house sparrows chirped, I saw a pair of jays high in the bare crown of a big oak down the road. Song sparrows sang also, as they do. Chickadees. The warming sun soon began the melting process, as great clumps of snow fell splat, splat up the back hill.
American robin.
After breakfast, I grabbed my shovel—which I hadn’t yet put away—and began removing the heavy, wet snow from the deck, the stairs, the walkway up front. Heaviest snow of the season, to shovel. But I knew, once I’d cleared the important spaces, the sun would take care of the rest.
Grabbed Jack then, and we dashed off to do Saturday errands. Seems everyone else in town decided to do the same—what a busy place it was. The post office door opened and closed, and a huge queue had lined up at the bank. Driving through town I happened to notice a small flock of cedar waxwings fluttering around a berry bush mere feet from the road. Soon after, a mourning dove nearly crashed into the front of my pickup but veered away just in time. And driving up Route 1 to the dump, I saw a kestrel swoop up onto a utility line at Powerhouse Hill. First kestrel of the year.
The dump was hopping, too, but I managed to get my recycling materials tossed quickly into the proper bins.
Time for another hike up the wooded Beech Hill trail.
The parking lot remained snow-filled, and the only vehicle track seemed to be from my pickup, from yesterday. Didn’t bother with snowshoes, considering the prospect of a good melt and the fact that I’d tromped down the trail our last trip up. The going wasn’t too hard. A little ways up, I heard robins, as expected. Then crows. Even saw a crow flap swiftly over. And heard chickadees singing fee-bee!
Fox sparrow.
I’d thought no one else had passed since our last hike, but about half-way up I realized that someone else had snowshoed up earlier today. Some of the bowed-down trees had sprung free; others I freed myself. (Felt good to do that for the little trees.) It occurred to me today that not all the bent-over saplings had suffered from falling snow—it seems the weight of the snowfall itself had caused them to droop and get their crowns stuck. Interesting.
I’d begun to think the song sparrows had flown, but then I heard a couple. And saw them, three or four birds—not singing, merely emitting little alarm notes.
The sun had been fading in and out—but by the time we reached the open fields at the top, great patches of blue sky had appeared between immense roiling, billowing clouds. A remarkable, moving sky. I grabbed a few photos, and then we started down the lower trail.
Snow on everything. No other birds to speak of down there—a few more robins—but Jack thought he saw squirrels a time or two. I heard the cries of herring gulls from somewhere.
Back home, a titmouse called, and the house finch sang, and the house sparrow, and a song sparrow, and a cardinal. Come sundown, I watched a solitary crow fly low and silently to the north then suddenly dip and veer into a thick pine.
Bay view.
Tonight, the stars are out. And water’s still dripping from everywhere.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 2:15 p.m., I hiked the wooded trails.
1. American robin
2. American crow
3. Black-capped chickadee (voice)
4. Fox sparrow
5. Herring gull (voice)
Elsewhere
6. Blue jay
7. House finch
8. House sparrow
9. Pileated woodpecker
10. Song sparrow
11. Ring-billed gull
12. Rock pigeon
13. Cedar waxwing
14. Mourning dove
15. American kestrel
16. Tufted titmouse
17. Northern cardinal
Tags: American crow, American kestrel, American robin, black-capped chickadee, blue jay, Cedar waxwing, fox sparrow, herring gull, house finch, house sparrow, mourning dove, northern cardinal, pileated woodpecker, ring-billed gull, rock pigeon, song sparrow, tufted titmouse
