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Posts Tagged ‘herring gull’
Tuesday, August 3rd, 2010
 Northern flicker. To bed early, up late. Go figure. Suffice it to say Jack and I pulled into the Beech Hill parking lot at the ungodly quarter-hour of 7:15 a.m. An overcast day. The roads were wet—some rain had passed by—but the trail was dry enough.
 Common yellowthroat. The common birds made their presence known vocally. Until about half-way up, my actual visual sightings amounted to a single female yellowthroat chipping at me from within an apple tree. Thanks to the day’s dimness and the length of my lens, I shouldn’t have even bothered with a photo—but I figured I’d try a flash shot. The picture looked like it’d been taken by a paparazzo.
And then came a troubling distraction—evidence of a mountain biker. Since the little flurry of biking incidents a few weeks ago, the powers-that-be erected signs at all the trails’ access points: no bicycles allowed. These were the first tire tracks I’d seen since then. And I couldn’t help but seethe a little. I mean, either the cyclist was a kid who didn’t pay attention to rules, or he was an adult who didn’t pay attention to rules, or he was illiterate. Basically, the cyclist didn’t give a damn about anyone but himself, his fun, the thrilling feeling of bounding and veering down a wooded trail. And I can even dig that, to a point. But the goal of a life isn’t simply to have as much fun as possible—is it? Or have I simply become an ignorant old fuddy-duddy?
Tire tracks and thoughts of the mountain biker who left them accompanied me along the upper wooded trail. A nagging, troubling distraction.
But then, about half-way up, coming into an open green copse, I heard the breath of wings and told Jack, “Wait.” And we stopped and watched the birds settle out.
Towhees, several. A couple chickadees. A small flock of waxwings above and behind us. Yellowthroats somewhere. And a solitary flicker in a small tree straight ahead. We stood there about five minutes—I, waiting for the flicker to emerge, Jack quietly eating grass—until I got a half-way decent photo. But I loved those five minutes. The close comfort of the overcast, the feel of standing quietly in the company of a dozen birds. Those few moments might actually have been the highlight of my day.
 Summit trail. Only nine species by the time I hit the summit fields, though, and then (finally) the first alder flycatcher. No phoebes. No chestnut-sideds. No chippy down by the gate. N0 cuckoo or titmouse or cardinal or hummingbird. No veery or black-and-white warbler. Most species must be concentrating on safely raising their young. And a mountain biker doesn’t give a damn about the rules.
Coming back up over the summit, I turned my binoculars to the bay and spotted a herring gull flapping nonchalantly along, north to south. I figured at least I’d make it to twenty species. Still no phoebe at the top, but I did hear the high-pitched tseet! of a white-throated sparrow. Then descending the lower wooded trail, there came the sharp alarm notes of ovenbirds (and I even got a visual). Nuthatches down there also, a little below.
And then, coming around through berry brambles fairly close to the trailhead, I heard a loud chip!—which I recognized at once. Sure enough, a female chestnut-sided warbler. Young nearby, no doubt. Species No. 23 for the day.
The chip! of the chestnut-sided got me thinking about how many chip notes I can positively identify. Quite a few by now, I’d say: chestnut-sided, yellowthroat, and yellow warblers; white-throated and song sparrow; cardinal and rose-breasted grosbeak. I can tell the peep! of an alder flycatcher from the similar note of a phoebe. And I can ID the subtle pip-pip of a ruby-throated hummingbird near the nest.
Not a lot of birds today, but plenty of things to think on.
 Wood frog. Beech Hill List
Beginning at 7:15 a.m., I hiked all trails.
1. American crow (voice)
2. Red-eyed vireo (voice)
3. Black-capped chickadee
4. Eastern towhee
5. Common yellowthroat
6. Gray catbird
7. Cedar waxwing
8. American robin (voice)
9. Northern flicker
10. Alder flycatcher (voice)
11. Savannah sparrow
12. Hermit thrush (voice)
13. Field sparrow (voice)
14. Blue jay (voice)
15. Yellow warbler (voice)
16. Eastern wood-pewee (voice)
17. Song sparrow
18. Mourning dove (voice)
19. Herring gull
20. White-throated sparrow (voice)
21. Ovenbird
22. White-breasted nuthatch (voice)
23. Chestnut-sided warbler
Elsewhere
24. House sparrow
25. Rock pigeon
26. Northern cardinal
Tags: alder flycatcher, American crow, American robin, black-capped chickadee, blue jay, Cedar waxwing, chestnut-sided warbler, common yellowthroat, eastern towhee, eastern wood-pewee, field sparrow, gray catbird, hermit thrush, herring gull, house sparrow, mourning dove, northern cardinal, northern flicker, ovenbird, red-eyed vireo, rock pigeon, savannah sparrow, song sparrow, white-breasted nuthatch, white-throated sparrow, yellow warbler
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Monday, August 2nd, 2010
 Veery. It was almost chilly this morning. Chilly and kind of foggy. I stayed up working until about 1 a.m. and had an appointment before 9, so I scrambled out of bed feeling both a groggy and in a hurry. Dog and I managed to reach the trailhead by 7 a.m.
 Common yellowthroat (female). A crow was waiting for us at the entrance. As we got out of the truck, a red-eyed vireo was singing, as is usual at this time of year. (How many thousands of individual notes and sequences must a vireo emit every day?) And the usual birds revealed themselves over the course of the first few hundred yards of our ascent—chickadee, goldfinch, towhee, robin. Then I heard a veery.
For the second straight day a veery has come out of hiding. Veeries are a common Beech Hill bird, but this is their quiet time of year. It surprised me how thrilled I felt to hear that disctinctive veeurr!
Better still, as we stopped to listen, the source of the call emerged not twenty feet away. A chipping yellowthroat also emerged, as did a silent, leery catbird. All guarding nests within about a twenty-foot radius. And it occurred to me that here were three species that are probably very familiar with each other—if not buddies. They like the same lush greenery. I’ve seen them all with caterpillars in their bills. Any of the three is liable to raise the alarm, and the others will hurry to investigate. Symbiosis, for sure.
 Yellow-rumped warbler. Not a lot of noteworthy activity the rest of the way up, but as we emerged at the summit, again the birds proved active—arguably even antic. Song sparrows and white-throats and phoebes and flickers, all flitting up the trail and ricocheting every which way. And again it occurred to me: here were some species that clearly liked the same kind of grassy open area with a nearby cover of brush and trees. I’ve seen these species together nearly every day up there lately. Symbiosis.
But an odd bird showed up then: a yellow-rumped warbler. Not uncommon or surprising, really, just not a species I commonly see up there much beyond early spring. And the hummingbird—or perhaps another—appeared again among the open expanse of pink flowers. I didn’t get a picture, though.
A cool morning, and with some serious fog—which began to lift just as we hit the summit. The sun came out fast, in fact, as we descended the open trail. And the birds descending with us included: flicker, savannah sparrow, song sparrow, waxwing, towhee, and yellow warbler. Again, a handful of species that seem to get along. (I listed no field sparrow yesterday or today, but that’s because I heard none singing—very likely they, too, were flitting down the open trail.)
Returning up the hill, I looked up to see a tight flock of black ducks flying swift and low from northeast to southwest. I can’t remember the last time I saw black ducks up there.
Also listed hermit thrush and hairy woodpecker and black-and-white warbler and white-breasted nuthatch.
Fact is, most of the birds I list up there likely know each other pretty well.
 Yellow warbler (female). Beech Hill List
Beginning at 7 a.m., I hiked all trails.
1. American crow
2. Red-eyed vireo (voice)
3. Black-capped chickadee
4. American goldfinch (voice)
5. Eastern towhee
6. American robin
7. Chestnut-sided warbler
8. Veery
9. Common yellowthroat
10. Gray catbird
11. Cedar waxwing
12. Song sparrow
13. Alder flycatcher (voice)
14. Northern flicker
15. Eastern phoebe
16. White-throated sparrow
17. Yellow-rumped warbler
18. Ruby-throated hummingbird
19. Yellow warbler
20. Tufted titmouse (voice)
21. Blue jay (voice)
22. Black-and-white warbler (voice)
23. Chipping sparrow (voice)
24. Hermit thrush (voice)
25. Black duck
26. Hairy woodpecker
27. White-breasted nuthatch (voice)
Elsewhere
28. Herring gull
29. House sparrow
30. Northern cardinal
31. Rock pigeon
 Inland fog.
Tags: alder flycatcher, American crow, American goldfinch, American robin, black duck, black-and-white warbler, black-capped chickadee, blue jay, Cedar waxwing, chestnut-sided warbler, chipping sparrow, common yellowthroat, eastern phoebe, eastern towhee, gray catbird, hairy woodpecker, hermit thrush, herring gull, house sparrow, northern cardinal, northern flicker, red-eyed vireo, rock pigeon, ruby-throated hummingbird, song sparrow, tufted titmouse, veery, white-breasted nuthatch, white-throated sparrow, yellow warbler, yellow-rumped warbler
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Sunday, August 1st, 2010
 Downy woodpecker. I forgot it was the first of August until we’d finished more than half our hike this morning, Jack and I. Must’ve been because I was so bedazzled by the morning itself. Cool, comfortable, with few deer flies but occasional cicadas, with lush, unkempt brambles along the trails and scattering, rambling young birds everywhere on the open slopes.
And a few surprises.
 Ruby-throated hummingbird. The first surprise came as we climbed the upper wooded trail, when I heard the distinctive alarm note of a veery—for the first time in at least a couple weeks. I even saw the bird itself, dodging behind clumps of leaves. But then I got distracted by the second surprise: a downy woodpecker starting in on a limb right above and before us. I got a couple photos as the little bird hammered and pecked and preened.
The third came as I was watching a group of phoebes flitting about the summit—a young family, I figure, though I’m not sure where their nest was. (Possibly somewhere on Beech Nut itself.) One bird kept wanting to perch on a stalk of roof grass, or the chimney, and sing. Meantime, great gangs of young waxwings were zipping joyously through the luxuriant air like kids at play. And suddenly I saw one of the phoebes, in flight, dodging an aerial assault by a hummingbird. The hummer won, as they usually do, then flew quickly down and began drinking from a patch of flowers on the souther slope.
 Penobscot Bay from Beech Hill. The fourth surprise came as we’d begun our return ascent, right above the Beech Hill Road gate. I heard a loud, sharp chip! coming from the little patch of woods there. I recognized it as the alarm not of a rose-breasted grosbeak. It took a little while to find the bird, but there it was—a female protecting nestlings (or fledglings). It’d been weeks since I’d seen or heard a rose-breasted.
The fifth surprise came as I attempted a photo of the grosbeak and noticed a gorgeous geometrical spider web high in the limbs of the hardwoods there. Not sure I’ve ever seen a spider web that high.
 Young sparrow at Beech Nut. My sixth moment of astonishment arrived as we started back down the lower wooded trail and I heard another chip! note that sounded familiar. At once a small bird fluttered up onto a small shady branch directly in front of us. Before I even got a good look I knew from its behavior what it was: an ovenbird. Hadn’t seen one of those in a while, either.
The seventh surprise came as I’d paused in the wood to see if I could spot a pair of vocal nuthatches beeping around in a grove of old oaks, along with some likewise vocal chickadees. I did spot one—and about the same time heard a whistling call rather higher pitched than the chickadees’. And there on the trunk was a brown creeper. Had not seen a creeper up there since last winter, I bet, and this one was near. I wanted its photo.
But it’d gotten interested in a section of trunk on the other side of a leaf cluster. I ducked but had no good view. So I backed up while ducking and dipping and peering upward, and just as I was about to reach a nice look through my viewfinder, my left foot came down squarely on a round, loose stone, and it kicked out from under me, and I sprawled over backward and landed hard on a fallen limb. Didn’t hurt much, but it cost me my photo. At least Jack was amused.
And that was my eighth surprise.
 Eastern phoebe on the sod roof. Beech Hill List
Beginning at 7 a.m., I hiked all trails.
1. American crow (voice)
2. Red-eyed vireo (voice)
3. Common yellowthroat
4. American goldfinch
5. Black-capped chickadee
6. American robin
7. Eastern towhee
8. Gray catbird
9. White-throated sparrow
10. Cedar waxwing
11. Downy woodpecker
12. Chestnut-sided warbler
13. Alder flycatcher
14. Veery
15. Song sparrow
16. Eastern phoebe
17. Northern flicker
18. Savannah sparrow
19. Blue jay
20. Herring gull
21. Ruby-throated hummingbird
22. Mourning dove
23. Yellow warbler (voice)
24. Eastern wood-pewee (voice)
25. Chipping sparrow (voice)
26. White-breasted nuthatch
27. Black-and-white warbler (voice)
28. Rose-breasted grosbeak
29. Hermit thrush
30. Ovenbird
31. Brown creeper
Elsewhere
32. House sparrow
 Ovenbird.
Tags: alder flycatcher, American crow, American goldfinch, American robin, black-and-white warbler, black-capped chickadee, blue jay, brown creeper, Cedar waxwing, chestnut-sided warbler, chipping sparrow, common yellowthroat, downy woodpecker, eastern phoebe, eastern towhee, eastern wood-pewee, gray catbird, hermit thrush, herring gull, house sparrow, mourning dove, northern flicker, ovenbird, red-eyed vireo, rose-breasted grosbeak, ruby-throated hummingbird, savannah sparrow, song sparrow, veery, white-breasted nuthatch, white-throated sparrow, yellow warbler
Posted in Lists, Observations | No Comments »
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| Bird Report is a (sometimes intermittent) record of the birds I encounter while hiking, see while driving, or spy outside my window. —Brian Willson |
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