Hermit thrush.
Sunshine came softly through my window today.—”Sunshine Superman” (Donovan)
I awoke at about 6 or so but didn’t manage to roll out of bed. When I did manage to roll out of bed, sunlight was already angling through the blinds. After yesterday’s weather front, I imagined this morning’s Beech Hill bird activity was impressive—but all I saw were crows and gulls and an osprey (screaming out its territorial call above Clam Cove), and of course I heard the ever-present house finch. Then, out the back glass door, I heard the abrupt song of a phoebe coming from very nearby. I grabbed my camera and looked out for the bird, but I didn’t manage to see it until it flew from one of the railing posts of the deck. Phoebes were considering the back of my place as a potential nesting site, it seemed to me.
Eastern ribbon snake.
Later in morning, I heard the calling phoebe out there again—and actually spotted it. And took its photo.
The day—a partly cloudy one—warmed up to 60 degrees (F) and beyond. By early afternoon, I couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer. I pulled on my bicycle attire and headed out. Warm, a little windy, lovely. The wind was southerly, so the trip to town took a little effort. (Rock pigeons chasing around the business block.) But coming back north toward Rockport Village was a breeze—I don’t believe I’ve ever traveled so fast down the Route 1 hill to Pascal Avenue, and in fact I even got a “Woo-hoo!” cry from a motorcylist coming the other way.
Returning south, though, took a little effort. I did hear two or three chipping sparrows calling along the way.
As I pulled into my driveway, I had to veer around a good-sized ribbon snake crossing the parking lot. Kept my eye on the snake—it wasn’t going anywhere, for some reason—as I changed clothes inside, dashed upstairs, and grabbed my camera. Of course when I got back, it was gone. But I found it in the daffodil bed, looking for a hole in the rock wall. I snapped off a couple photos of it testing the air with its remarkably red tongue.
Yellow-rumped warbler.
Then my friend Gus dropped by. We had a nice chat. Jack loves Gus.
On the back deck, late in the day, I surprised the phoebes. One was standing guard, apparently, as the other suddenly appeared with a mouthful of nesting material. Watched it hover for a moment at the top edge of a back window, where I saw about half a phoebe’s nest had already been constructed. But then it flew off. I hope Jack and I didn’t scare the birds away.
The sunshine persisted until after four, when my friend Liz dropped by to accompany Jack and me on our Beech Hill hike. We headed over at right about 5. First bird? A white-breasted nuthatch, whose faint beeps descended from the upper reaches of some maples. The air was too warm for my insulated overshirt, but when the black flies appeared, I didn’t much mind. Black flies usually arrive a little earlier, I think, but the dismally rainy month so far has kept them back. Still—whereas most might decry these little biting insects and the insufferable itch they cause—I like them for the fact that they’re food for warblers.
Tree swallows.
Coming through the sugarbush, we heard a couple of goldfinches—then saw one singing from the tip of a maple tree. Soon after, I spotted a silent thrush pop up into a low branch. A hermit thrush. Lovely brown bird.
On up the hill we heard gulls, robins, many towhees, and even the quacks of a mallard flying over. Chickadees, of course. A crow. A mourning dove.
And then came the yell0w-rumps. This was Liz’s first experience with yell0w-rumped warblers, which was fun to see. And they persisted, the yell0w-rumps. Their chips were incessant; they were flitted about everywhere. We heard a flicker calling in the distance. (And, later, another.)
Song sparrows singing from the open fields. A phoebe sighting. And then the tseet! note of a white-throated sparrow. Then another. Suddenly, at the upper juncture of the wooded trails, the white-throats began to sing. Two of them together, in fact, with slightly different phrasing. I never did see one, but we heard them scratching all over the place in last fall’s leaves.
We also saw a pair of tree swallows engaging in what I imagine to be some kind of aerial mating dance. It’s nearly impossible to capture a photo of swallows in flight. (At least in my experience.)
Earlier this evening, I heard some cardinals chipping about out back. I saw no trace of the phoebes, though. Nor even the nuthatches nesting (I presume) in the hole in the limb of the big overhanging oak.
Eastern phoebe.
Still, I’m not worried or anything.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 5 p.m., I hiked the upper wooded trail.
1. White-breasted nuthatch (voice)
2. American goldfinch
3. Hermit thrush
4. Herring gull (voice)
5. American robin (voice)
6. Eastern towhee (voice)
7. Mallard (voice)
8. Black-capped chickadee
9. American crow (voice)
10. Purple finch (voice)
11. Mourning dove (voice)
12. Yellow-rumped warbler
13. Northern flicker (voice)
14. Song sparrow
15. Tree swallow
16. Eastern phoebe
17. White-throated sparrow
Elsewhere
18. House finch
19. Osprey
20. Rock pigeon
21. Chipping sparrow
22. Pileated woodpecker
23. Northern cardinal
Tags: American crow, American goldfinch, American robin, black-capped chickadee, chipping sparrow, eastern phoebe, eastern towhee, hermit thrush, herring gull, house finch, mallard, mourning dove, northern cardinal, northern flicker, osprey, rock pigeon, song sparrow, white-breasted nuthatch, white-throated sparrow, yellow-rumped warbler
