Mama maple.
It’s been a rainy May. After yesterday’s respite, things got back to “normal” today—drizzle in the morning, rain on and off all day. Just to add to the wackiness, the temperature never rose out of the 40s (F). However, a bird’s gotta propagate, and the resident house finch kept up his operatic declarations to the neighborhood.
Did not venture out until late in the day, when there appeared to be a little letup in the drizzle. Took Jack to town first to check the mail, then headed up to Beech Hill. Arrived to find it drizzling again, and a bit of a breeze had picked up. Neither heard nor saw a bird at the parking lot, so we set off right away.
Heard nor saw any birds for several minutes, as it happened—when my ears finally detected the voice of an ovenbird in the distant woods. Soon after, the note of an eastern towhee.
And then, not much. Just rushing bursts of wind and spattering rain.
Black-throated green warbler.
But without the usual avian distractions, I found myself admiring the colors of the woodlands. So many shades of green just now—enhanced, it seemed, by the even gray sky. Bright, varied patches of spring color, in the tree leaves, ground cover, ferns along the trail. Bright yell0w-green, olive green, primary green, dull green, light green, rich dark green, coppery orange (e.g., the foliage of oak saplings). As the day’s grayness enhanced it all, so did the rain give everything a fresh sheen. It was as if the world had received a new paint job. I spent much of our ascent just soaking it in.
And we both ended up relatively soaked, dog and I.
But then a few birds showed up. Heard herring gulls toward shore, jays in the woodlands, a robin singing off somewhere, the chuck! of a trailside yellowthroat. Didn’t see much, though, until I caught sight of the dark shape of a towhee flitting through some undergrowth. At the misty upper fields, I heard more yellowthroats and towhees, then a singing song sparrow. Spotted a catbird flitting across our path and a mourning dove winging off into the trees.
Coming up the last little wooded rise, I heard chickadees and stopped to see if I could spot them. And spot them I did, along with a small coterie of silent warblers. A black-throated green, a couple of chestnut-sideds. One of the latter hopped within six feet of us, I bet—too close to focus on him with my telephoto lens.
We surprised the Beech Nut savannah sparrow in the grass behind the hut. Heard a goldfinch.
Coming back down through the lower woods, we encountered a mucky, muddy trail—so muddy, in fact, that it made no sense to try to tiptoe around and I slogged right through. Finally, I peeked into the secret phoebe nest and saw the bird sitting in there, well hidden.
Later, at home, I watched a pair of house finches flitting about in the understory out back. Heard the finch’s song still, too, and the songs of robins. Robins sing early and late, I’ve noticed, and these late birds seemed to rouse a nearby phoebe, which uttered its flutey note as darkness approached.
Still drizzly tonight. Surely the most sunless May in my memory. But I hear Wednesday we might actually see some clearing.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 4:30 p.m., I hiked the wooded trails.
1. Ovenbird
2. Eastern towhee
3. Herring gull
4. White-throated sparrow
5. Black-capped chickadee
6. Common yellowthroat
7. Gray catbird
8. American robin
9. Blue jay
10. Song sparrow
11. Mourning dove
12. Black-throated green warbler
13. Chestnut-sided warbler
14. Savannah sparrow
15. American goldfinch
16. Eastern phoebe
Elsewhere
16. House finch
17. European starling
18. House sparrow
19. White-breasted nuthatch
20. Veery
Tags: American goldfinch, American robin, black-capped chickadee, black-throated green warbler, blue jay, chestnut-sided warbler, common yellowthroat, eastern phoebe, eastern towhee, European starling, gray catbird, herring gull, house finch, house sparrow, ovenbird, savannah sparrow, song sparrow, veery, white-breasted nuthatch, white-throated sparrow
