Gray catbird.
A sunny morning, a mild day. Warm in the sun, cool in the shade. Cardinal, song sparrow, catbird. I tackled some paperwork, answered some email, worked on a font. By mid-afternoon, the lure of a sun-drenched world prompted a swift bike ride. A huge cumulus cloud loomed in the west but moved away. Crows and house sparrows along the roadside—and plenty of traffic on the road itself. The Lobster Festival has begun.
High-bush blueberries.
Then dog and I took a hike. No vehicles at the wood Beech Hill trailhead, but plenty of sun still (unlike the past two days). And plenty of birds right away—vireos in the deeper woods, chickadees in the distance, waxwings in the low greenery, overflying goldfinches. While photographing of a particular high-bush blueberry whose spring flowers I’ve seen hummingbird’s attending, I heard a loud chip behind me: a female yellowthroat. And as I attempted photos of the warbler, I heard the song of a titmouse from down the wooded slope.
Been checking the progress of the ripening blackberries. It’ll be a week or two. And I forgot to mention that, yesterday, the trails showed evidence of the previous night’s downpour—intermittent leaf dams, mainly—which we stepped over again this evening. Heard a hermit thrush as we neared the summit. Met a young couple and a dog on the trail and chatted some at Beech Nut. Suddenly, a chipping sparrow flitted onto the grass about a dozen feet away. It didn’t stay long, so I led Jack over toward where I saw it fly—and heard the sound again.
The same spooky growly bark I’d heard up there a week or so ago. It was coming from down the eastern slope, exactly where I’d last heard it. I turned and asked the couple if they’d heard it. They had. None of us could ID the animal it came from. I recounted how I’d heard it before and the various theories of what made the strange sound—fisher? coyote?—and then we began to head back.
Common yellowthroat (female).
And I heard it again. Seemingly louder. Slightly different-sounding, but clearly the same critter. Heard it two or three times. At first I thought it near, but when I moved back toward the summit, clearly it came from the base of the slop. Kind of loud—but also subtle.
I got to thinking maybe it’s a raccoon—I’ve heard they can travel pretty fast when they want to—perhaps munching on blueberries down there. Perhaps that’s what’s been responsible for the blueberry-filled scat here and there on the wooded trail.
Or else it’s a chupacabra.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 5:15 p.m., I hiked the wooded trails.
1. Red-eyed vireo (voice)
2. Black-capped chickadee (voice)
3. American crow
4. Cedar waxwing
5. American goldfinch (voice)
6. Eastern towhee (voice)
7. Common yellowthroat
8. Tufted titmouse (voice)
9. Gray catbird
10. Song sparrow (voice)
11. Hermit thrush (voice)
12. Eastern phoebe
13. Chipping sparrow
14. Herring gull
15. Eastern wood-pewee (voice)
Elsewhere
16. Northern cardinal
17. House finch
18. House sparrow
19. Mourning dove
20. Rock pigeon
The bay today.
Tags: American crow, American goldfinch, black-capped chickadee, Cedar waxwing, chipping sparrow, common yellowthroat, eastern phoebe, eastern towhee, eastern wood-pewee, gray catbird, hermit thrush, herring gull, house finch, house sparrow, mourning dove, northern cardinal, red-eyed vireo, rock pigeon, song sparrow, tufted titmouse
