Oak shadows.
A sunny morning. Warmed up early. Breezes descended, circled, eddied. House finches were calling, and song sparrows, and a hairy woodpecker, and a cardinal. Crows here and there. But I remained distracted about my dog’s uncharacteristic gimpiness. Worried he might’ve hurt his back somehow.
Beech Hill summit.
By midday, the temperature had risen to at least 60 degrees (F), and I knew I must have a bicycle ride. But first, I had to figure out what was wrong with Jack. Called the vet. They could take us in a half hour. We did a couple quick errands—spotted gulls, rock pigeons, a pair of mallards flying over—and ended up at PenBay Veterinary Associates. Dr. Kate checked Jack over and pronounced him in fine shape. Good eyes, good ears, good teeth, strong muscles. No back problem at all that she could detect. Then his blood test came back, and he’d tested positive for anaplasmosis, a deer tick–borne disease (like Lyme). Which was good news, considering: it explained his symptoms and could be knocked out with a regimen of antibiotics. (Same antibiotic that knocked out my Lyme disease last year, in fact.) Ticks are everywhere on Beech Hill. Deer and dog. It’s just the price you pay.
Anyway, what a relief.
Worked a little more, then let Jack nap and headed out on a bike ride. Wore a short-sleeved jersey, and that was plenty. What a gorgeous day.
On my return, I took a quick trip to Beech Hill (also Jackless, which is strange). Rolled my window down. En route, on South Street, I thought I heard some kind of mechanical problem in my pickup—that is, until I realized I was listening to the sound of spring peepers in an alder swamp along the roadside.
Soggy trail.
I hiked the wooded trails. The hill was calm and quiet but for the thrilling calls of wood frogs around the vernal pool. Hardly any snow—just a few small patches in the very shadiest spots—or birds. I did hear crows. And I heard the alarm note (then saw the flight of) a solitary robin. Heard herring gulls. Another robin toward the summit, singing. No fox sparrows again. The early migrants have flown.
A couple people were walking a dog at the summit. No harriers that I could see. I turned back down toward the lower trail and stopped to listen to a rustling sound I thought I heard. Then ended up just listening. I heard the sighs of the wind, the faint squeaks of swaying branches, the distant barking of a dog—and the song of a song sparrow coming from the open fields behind me. Then the voice of a goldfinch.
But descending through the woods neither heard nor saw a single bird. Early plant life rising through last fall’s leaves. The long afternoon shadows of the big oak trunks. The sound of a carpenter hammering off somewhere. It occurs to me that people who speak loudly in the woods just don’t understand its magic. They might as well be laughing and shouting in church.
Nearing the vernal pool (where I knew there’d at least be frogs) I heard my first birds on the lower trail: a distant cardinal singing, and then a few faint, high notes in triplicate. Kinglets, I felt sure, but I couldn’t see them. Within eyesight of the little froggy pond, I heard chickadees singing—and more faint, high notes. But this time I saw the birds, sure enough a pair of golden-crowned kinglets, flitting quickly about as they tend to do. One hopped up onto a sunny twig, perfectly teed up for a photo, and I raised my camera, and I focused, and my battery went dead. Just another fish story.
Golden-crowned kinglet.
Tonight, from the deck, I heard a dove cooing. And the chip of something off up the hill. Sounded like a phoebe’s note—and I finally spotted the distant bird, flicking its distant tail.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 5 p.m, I hiked the open trail.
1. American crow (voice)
2. American robin
3. Herring gull (voice)
4. Song sparrow (voice)
5. American goldfinch (voice)
6. Northern cardinal (voice)
7. Golden-crowned kinglet
8. Black-capped chickadee (voice)
Elsewhere
9. House finch
10. Hairy woodpecker
11. House sparrow
12. Rock pigeon
13. Mallard
14. White-breasted nuthatch
15. Mourning dove
16. Eastern phoebe
Tags: American crow, American goldfinch, American robin, black-capped chickadee, eastern phoebe, golden-crowned kinglet, hairy woodpecker, herring gull, house finch, house sparrow, mallard, mourning dove, northern cardinal, song sparrow, white-breasted nuthatch
