Remnant snow.
12 April addendum: At nearly midnight, I took Jack out into the impressively silent yard. The waves of the bay rushed softly in the distance. As we started back, we heard something—at first it sounded to me like a distant siren, but in an instant I recognized it as the yipping howls of coyotes. Jack did, too, apparently, because my usually silent dog began to bark like crazy.
I did not expect to find any birds at Beech Hill today. That’s because—after a gray, chilly morning, with temperatures somewhere in the 30s (F)—it rained pretty much all day. Steadily. Even powerfully a time or two. In fact, tonight, as I write this, it’s raining still.
Boardwalk.
But when I first looked out the window, I saw only a peppering of dark raindrop marks on the asphalt of the parking lot. And three crows stalking the yard next door. And when I first stepped outside with Jack, I heard the song of a house finch (as usual) and the voice of a mourning dove. The chips of house sparrows. And the high-pitched note of something—that, when I finally tracked it down out back, turned out to be a titmouse.
Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, I heard the distinctive, high-pitched warbly screams of an osprey up in the sky somewhere. First fish hawk of the year at Clam Cove.
Jack seemed slightly gimpy still, but I took him with me to do errands late in the day. Only herring gulls out there in the rain that I could see. On our return, I left him home and took a quick trip to Beech Hill in a steady rain.
Brought my raincoat but still expected to end up soaked. Hurried up the wooded trail. Couldn’t hear much besides the patter of rain. Crossed the swollen brook, took the curve around through the poplars of the upper trail. Saw something. Stopped in my tracks to look. There it was again: a phoebe, flitting about in the middle limbs of the aspens. Did not expect that. The tail-flipping bird paused for a moment, and I lifted my camera—could I actually get a bird photo on such a rainy day? Turned out I could not. Apparently I made the bird nervous. No doubt my yellow raincoat stood out against the gray-brown landscape.
Trail stream.
About half-way up, implausibly, I heard the cries of a gull off in the rush of rain somewhere. And then another bird flitted low through the trailside brush. A sparrow. I couldn’t ID it for sure, but I’m guessing a song sparrow.
No other birds today. Only a wet, rainy noisy hillside. Streams of water ran straight down the middle of the lower trail. Still a tiny patch of snow here and there (surprisingly). Mostly just the smattering sound of rain on last year’s fallen leaves.
I did end up soaked. Even though the hurried trip up and down took me only half an hour.
Back home, out back, I somehow managed to pick out the voices of a house finch, a cardinal, and a robin somewhere off in the pattering rain.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 5:15 p.m., I hiked the wooded trails.
1. Eastern phoebe
2. Herring gull
3. Song sparrow
Elsewhere
4. American crow
5. Mourning dove
6. House finch
7. House sparrow
8. Tufted titmouse
9. Osprey
10. Northern cardinal
11. American robin
Frog pool.
Tags: American crow, American robin, eastern phoebe, herring gull, house finch, house sparrow, mourning dove, northern cardinal, song sparrow, tufted titmouse
