Snowshoe track.

Plenty of snow to shovel after yesterday’s storm. In fact, I spent more than an hour at it—with an intermission even. At one point, I paused and looked up to see about a dozen crows sitting silently high in the bare branches of an oak, watching me.

Maybe I’m crazy, but I love to shovel snow.

Did a little desk work but then got antsy to get outside on this glorious day. Grabbed camera, binoculars, snowshoes, Jack, and off we went.

Approaching Beech Hill I looked up at the summit, as I always do, and saw a couple of people nearing the top. I plowed into the snow-filled parking lot and pulled on my snowshoes. A chickadee called as Jack and I headed up along an amazingly well-carved snowshoe track—a lot of people had clearly succumbed to the lure of the hill on such remarkably lovely winter day. But the track diverted from the one Jack and I created yesterday, I noticed: it headed over the tops of tall drifts whereas we’d followed the low spots. Then again, some of the drifts hadn’t yet grown that tall a day ago.

Winter weed.

On the way up we passed snow waves, snow swirls, and tiny snow sculptures, put there by the wind. At Beech Nut we met our fellow hikers and exchanged greetings. Then I thought I saw the quick shadow of a flying bird on the snow. Sure enough, a small bird suddenly lit at the edge of a bare patch of ground just in front of the hut. A lark, I thought (and said aloud)—but I’d never been so close to a lark and right away began to have second thoughts. Turns out the couple were fellow birders who had been watching a pair of the little guys come and go and had already checked lark, longspur, and other winter species on a Sibley’s app. Since the bird had apparently flown around back of Beech Nut,  Jack and I headed that way—and I spotted it at the far corner. It called. A lark, I was sure of it. Probably an immature bird.

We returned and visited with our new friends for a while, discussed birds, cameras, Lyme Disease. I hope to meet them up there again someday.

Bohemian waxwings.

After they headed back down, Jack and I stuck around a bit. I suppose I had hopes of seeing the larks again (missing a photo had left me crestfallen)—but instead, I heard a burbling from down the eastern slope. I saw a large flock of birds circling there. Bohemian waxwings! I’d heard from my friend Kristen (who keeps the list) that Bohemians had not yet been counted among Beech Hill birds, and there must’ve been a hundred of them, at least. But too far away for photos.

On a lark (ha), I said, “C’mon, Jack,” and we set off down beyond the little spruce grove and right away found ourselves in waist-deep snow. (My waist, that is—Jack was essentially swimming.) But we somehow broke free and got close enough for a few distant photos. The birds made a lot of noise, rose in two groups, and spun across the too-blue sky in pulsating, undulating flocks, like a miracle.

Beech Nut.

Later, in town, I saw herring gulls, pigeons, starlings—and a little flotilla of eiders out in Clam Cove. And the southwest sky lit up like a faraway fire after the sun went down.

Tonight, the big, waning moon rises behind a moving ripple of clouds.

Beech Hill List
Beginning at 2:45 p.m., I hiked the open trail.

1. Black-capped chickadee (voice)
2. Horned lark
3. Bohemian waxwing

Elsewhere

4. Tufted titmouse
5. American crow
6. Blue jay
7. House sparrow
8. Herring gull
9. Common eider
10. Rock pigeon
11. European starling