Bud.
On Beech Hill in the rain late yesterday, a mere few traces of snow remained along the shadier trail edges. Late last night, I saw a remnant scrap or two on the dark edge of the parking lot. This sunny morning: no snow. And suddenly the lawn has gone green.
Hermit thrush.
The end of snow, the greening lawn—it got me thinking of coincidence. And by “coincidence” I mean events that coincide, time-wise, here on the 44th parallel. The reemergence of spring peepers, the return of the osprey, our federal income tax–filing deadline.
Crows and chickadees and house finches were about early. At one point I the loud voice of a pileated woodpecker nearby. Then I heard it again. I must’ve stood with my camera for a good five minutes looking for the bird, but I never did see it. I heard the voice of a hairy woodpecker, too (and didn’t manage to locate it either).
Later in morning, I stepped out and heard the resident house sparrows. And the thin notes of a tufted titmouse hopping about in the oaks.
Sun warmed the day. A light wind cooled it slightly. Filed my taxes, then donned my bicycle gear and headed out for a ride. A nice fast trip downwind to town, where I saw plenty of gulls, heard a couple starlings, spotted some pigeons flying around in the rooftops of the business block. Back north again against the wind, the riding wasn’t so fast. Suddenly, I noticed my front tire was losing air. As it happens, though, I was just about to pass my place and so stopped there, changed the tube, and continued on up Route 1. As I passed, a song sparrow flitted away from the roadside.
Sumac.
The wind-aided trip back from Rockport went quickly. A wonderful ride. Got back just in time for a Beech Hill hike with Jack—his first in three days, and he was ready for it.
Not far along the trail, I heard an American robin singing in the distance. Heard herring gulls crying off toward the shore. Subtle little buds and shoots were popping forth everywhere, seemed like. Coming up the first little wooded rise, I caught sight of a small brown bird flitting through the undergrowth—a thrush. A tail-bobbing thrush with a rusty colored back end. A hermit thrush, first of the year.
Yesterday’s snow patches had vanished from along the top of the upper trail. Against the afternoon sunlight, the fuzz on the branch-ends of a patch of staghorn sumac glowed like haloes. (For the first time I saw where it got its name.)
As we emerged into the open fields, I noticed a kestrel perched in the crown of a tree. The kestrel noticed Jack and me, too, apparently, because immediately it flew some distance away, where it hovered over the field for a bit. We continued to the summit, passing a pair of kinglets along the way. The wind blew with surprising strength up there—and not a little chill. I met fellow birder Jay, Beech Hill volunteer coordinator Amy, and an eastern phoebe scoping out the eaves of Beech Nut.
American kestrel.
We’d just started back down when I spotted a male harrier just landing in a shady spot near the base of the eastern slope. It didn’t stay there long. The kestrel was back on its snag—for a moment, anyway. Coming down the soggy lower trail, I heard only gulls.
Tonight the waxing moon is making things glow.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 5 p.m., I hiked the wooded trails.
1. American robin (voice)
2. Herring gull (voice)
3. Hermit thrush
4. Black-capped chickadee
5. Golden-crowned kinglet
6. American kestrel
7. Eastern phoebe
8. Northern harrier
Elsewhere
9. American crow
10. House finch
11. Pileated woodpecker
12. Hairy woodpecker
13. House sparrow
14. Tufted titmouse
15. Rock pigeon
16. European starling
17. Song sparrow
Moon.
Tags: American crow, American kestrel, American robin, black-capped chickadee, eastern phoebe, golden-crowned kinglet, hairy woodpecker, hermit thrush, herring gull, house finch, house sparrow, northern harrier, pilated woodpecker, rock pigeon, song sparrow, tufted titmouse
