Yellow-rumped warbler.
It’s been the dreariest April in a while. Three straight overcast, rainy, foggy days. Not that I mind the rain and fog—I rather like it, in fact. OK, I guess I did call it dreary. Probably should’ve just described it as “the least sunny April in a while.”
Crows are always here. (And I do love crows. Check this impressive photo gallery.) Also the ever-present house finch.
Chipmunk.
The water heater stopped working this morning, and that little unexpected fix-it project took a little time. Especially since I couldn’t fix it and had to call for service. But I can do without a hot shower for a day or two, no problem.
Somewhat drizzly at first, but then things dried up before a little thundershower blew through. After that happened, dog and I made our usual round of errands. Gulls in town.
By the time we arrived at the wooded Beech Hill trail, the wind had grown strong. Not a thin, harsh, sharp, cold wind—a big, stout, hard-blowing, voluptuous, warmish wind that roared in the little red-blooming crowns of the maple trees. I wouldn’t be identifying many birds from their distant calls, I figured. Then, as we rounded the little turn by the stream, I happened to spot a turkey sneaking off into the brush. Oddly, Jack didn’t see it and wondered why we’d stopped (astonishingly). An interesting first bird sighting.
When we turned left onto the upper trail, I did hear the voices of herring gulls over by the little cow farm. Gulls voices will carry in a wild wind.
Coming up through the sumac, I heard the chips of yell0w-rumped warblers close by. Then saw ’em, a half dozen or so. And I learned something interesting: among the chips were tiny peeps—chickadee-sounding peeps, but they didn’t come from chickadees. They came from among the yell0w-rumps. (I spent a lot of time making sure.) It seems yellow-rumped warblers have a subtle little alternative chip-note that’s far sweeter than their harsh, distinctive chip! Never knew that before.
Old stone wall.
I really didn’t need my hooded sweatshirt, that’s for sure. The big, moving air was warm. A towhee called from somewhere up the hill. At the foggy upper fields, a song sparrow’s voice rang out, and I heard the tseet! of a white-throated sparrow. Didn’t see a phoebe at Beech Nut—but we’d barely started back down when one flitted across the trail down in front of us.
And then it began to rain. Kind of a hard rain.
And then I heard some rolling thunder.
We picked up our pace down the lower wooded trail, splashing in the muddy spots, flushing no grouse or woodcock. (No birds at all down there.) We made the whole trip, up and down, in just 45 minutes.
Driving back, I saw a mourning dove on a power line and a little flock of blue jays fly over. At home, I heard a little thunder in the distance and the slight intimate murmings of a pair of nuthatches nearby.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 5 p.m., I hiked the wooded trails.
1. Wild turkey
2. Herring gull (voice)
3. Yellow-rumped warbler
4. Eastern towhee (voice)
5. Song sparrow
6. White-throated sparrow
7. Eastern phoebe
Elsewhere
8. American crow
9. House finch
10. Mourning dove
11. Blue jay
12. White-breasted nuthatch
Beech Nut.
Tags: American crow, blue jay, eastern phoebe, eastern towhee, herring gull, mourning dove, song sparrow, white-breasted nuthatch, white-throated sparrow, wild turkey, yellow-rumped warbler
