Beech Nut.
I’m not a sailor, but I’m always aware of the wind. I like the feel of a cool breeze on a hot day—or even a warm breeze. I pay attention to the sway of the trees and the stampede of fall leaves across the dooryard. I marvel at the power of a spring gale. I like to lean into a strong wind, like to try to gauge its direction. And all my life I’ve dreamed of tornadoes (no doubt because the first movie I attended in a theater, at about age five, was The Wizard of Oz). I think it has something to do with the way the wind confirms that I’m alive, still able to sense the passage time. The Quick vs the Dead—or something like that.
Schooner and the Owls Head Light.
This morning was a hot one, until the wind picked up. Kind of a blustery, directionless wind that rushed through the screens and into my upstairs rooms as I worked on a font at the kitchen table. Took a break from bike riding today—after having passed 1,000 miles for the year yesterday—but at day’s end I grabbed leash and dog and drove over to Beech Hill.
As we began our hike, I wondered for a moment where the wind had gone, but the sheltered parking area stood in a wedge of misleading calm, because as soon as we began climbing the open trail, the moving air descended. I noticed few clouds in the sky—until we got high enough for me to see some nice-looking cumulus rising away to the north. And plenty of clouds clung low to the bay islands. The hardwoods rustled, the grass rippled, the waxwings bounded overhead.
But a combination of season, weather, and time of day kept most birds away today. I did hear the chatter of goldfinches (naturally), the caws of crows (ditto), the cries of a distant junco, and the single note of a trailside song sparrow. And I ate a score of blackberries. Sails dotted the hazy bay.
Cloud.
Then, coming back over the hill, I happened to spot a bird soaring up over the crest of the hill, expertly navigating the breeze. A falcon. A female kestrel. A nice surprise. It veered directly toward us, in fact, but I couldn’t focus my long lens in time. Then it sailed over us and down the southeast slope, where it commenced to dive-bomb a crow down there. The crow gave out a wind-whipped, guttural croak as the kestrel harassed it with a purpose. Did the falcon have a nest nearby? Had it for some reason just decided to run off all perceived enemies? Who knows—but it was nice to see a kestrel for a change.
And somehow especially nice today to experience the feel, the sound, of the wind.
Come cool nightfall, the air grew calmer. And just now, all seems particularly still. But the planet will spin, the sun will rise, and the wind will howl again.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 5:15 p.m., I hiked the open trail.
1. Cedar waxwing
2. American goldfinch (voice)
3. Eastern towhee (voice)
4. Song sparrow (voice)
5. American crow
6. American kestrel
Elsewhere
7. House sparrow
8. Herring gull
9. Northern cardinal
Tags: American crow, American goldfinch, American kestrel, Cedar waxwing, eastern towhee, herring gull, house sparrow, song sparrow
