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Posts Tagged ‘black guillemot’
Friday, May 14th, 2010
 Two islands.
Up early. Overcast. Cool. Slight breeze. Reheated a cup of yesterday’s coffee, poured it into a travel mug, put the leash on the dog, headed for Beech Hill.
 Chestnut-sided warbler.
In case you’ve been wondering, I don’t write down the birds I hear and see. I’ve got a system. As soon as I get out of the pickup, I listen for birdsong—and I hear it. This morning, simultaneously, I heard the voices of an ovenbird (ever-present on the hill in spring), a robin, and a black-throated green warbler. Within a few seconds, I heard the passionate fee-bee of a chickadee. Here’s what I do in my head:
“One, ovenbird. Two, robin. Three, black-throated green. Four, chickadee.”
Then if there’s a lull—i.e., no new birds heard or seen for a while—I’ll keep repeating that last little clipped sentence to myself silently: Four, chickadee. I repeat it until I hear bird species number five.
“Five, yellowthroat.”
 Mourning dove on Beech Hill trail.
I’ve used this system for a couple-three years, and it seems to work great. On my return home, I’ll sit and jot down the list, in order, as near as I can remember. As far as I know, I’ve never listed a bird I didn’t see or hear; however, I’ll occasionally recall a bird or two I somehow missed counting in situ. This morning, for instance, I came home thinking I’d counted twenty-six species—but when I talled ’em up, the total was twenty-seven.
 Purple sandpipers.
I tend also to remember the count at certain mileposts. A memorable one this morning was: “Seven, blackpoll warbler.” A first-of-year bird, and one I’ve seen only a few times in my life. And I nearly always remember the count when we reach the summit, Jack and I. Today, I’d only reached sixteen when we arrived at Beech Nut—I’ve counted twice as many at that stage—but I heard or saw quite a few birds beyond that point.
Not only did we see and hear birds: coming up the upper wooded trail, emerging from a tree-cloaked section of trail, a sudden boom erupted from the popple to our right—and we stood and watched as two big white-tailed deer dashed off ahead of us through the greening woodland. After they’d disappeared, Jack turned and looked at me with a transparent expression.
“Did you see that?” he asked.
“Deer,” I said.
“So, do we chase ’em?”
“Naw.”
The weather was odd. As we set out, a ripply gray blanket covered the sky overhead and to the west of us, while a cantaloupe-colored field spread across the eastern horizon, above the bay. But by the time we were returning via the lower wooded trail, a bright sun had come out, and I saw few clouds at all up beyond the branches of the hardwoods. The clouds had simply, suddenly burned away. But that, too, was temporary: by early afternoon, the day seemed gray again. Then bright again come late-afternoon. Fickle, the weather this day.
 Common eider.
At one point on the hill, a chestnut-sided warbler flitted so near that I had trouble focusing. It was backlit anyway. Not a great photo. Coming down and around the open trail, dog and I noticed a mourning dove walking down the hill in front of us. It continued that way for 40 or 50 yards.
As we headed back across the parking lot to the pickup, I heard the jeers of a blue jay. “Twenty-six, jay,” I said to myself. Turned out it was species number twenty-seven.
This evening, we walked the Rockland breakwater. One notable sighting there: a tree swallow, soaring in the breeze only a few feet above us as we approached the first granite stones. I turned on my camera in hopes of getting a photo of it in flight, but I managed only a shot of it perched oddly on the breakwater itself. Soon after, it veered over to the little beach below and pecked around a bit. I figured it must’ve been gathering nesting materials.
Also saw a laughing gull, a pair of black guillemots in flight, and—lo—purple sandpipers. Seems those little fellas should be back in the Arctic by now.
(Still no hummingbirds today. I’m starting to worry a little.)
 Tree swallow.
Beech Hill List
At 6:15 a.m., I walked all trails.
1. Ovenbird
2. American robin
3. Black-throated green warbler
4. Black-capped chickadee
5. Common yellowthroat
6. Tufted titmouse
7. Blackpoll warbler*
8. American crow
9. American goldfinch
10. Chestnut-sided warbler
11. Eastern towhee
12. Mourning dove
13. Nashville warbler
14. American redstart
15. Field sparrow
16. Tree swallow
17. Savannah sparrow
18. Song sparrow
19. Double-crested cormorant
20. American kestrel
22. White-throated sparrow
23. Chipping sparrow
24. Yellow warbler
25. Black-and-white warbler
26. Gray catbird
27. Blue jay
Elsewhere
28. House finch
29. Northern cardinal
30. Herring gull
31. Rock pigeon
32. Great black-backed gull
33. Laughing gull
34. Common eider
35. Purple sandpiper
36. Black guillemot
 Penobscot Bay.
Tags: American crow, American goldfinch, American kestrel, American redstart, American robin, black guillemot, black-capped chickadee, black-throated green warbler, blackpoll warbler, Chesnut-sided warbler, common eider, common yellowthroat, double-crested cormorant, eastern towhee, field sparrow, herring gull, house finch, laughing gull, mourning dove, Nashville warbler, northern cardinal, ovenbird, purple sandpiper, rock pigeon, savannah sparrow, song sparrow, tree swallow, tufted titmouse Posted in Observations | No Comments »
Sunday, May 2nd, 2010
 Savannah sparrow.
Old Sam Peabody accompanied us on our hike up Beech Hill this morning, dog and me. That is to say, white-throated sparrows were calling up and down nearly every trail. So were eastern towhees. And wild turkeys kept popping up, as well. But most exciting was the arrival of new wood-warblers. The leading edge of a wave.
 Red squirrel.
I wondered if any would show up this morning—especially considering the little weather front that moved in overnight last night. The time of year is right, I knew. And, sure enough, dog and I had walked no farther than about a hundred yards up the wooded trail when I heard the sibilant call of a black-and-white warbler. And soon after, the variable chatter of a Nashville warbler.That was two species more than I heard yesterday.
As we climbed the misty hill, in fact, many birds made their presence known. Like the brown thrasher that appeared directly in the middle of the trail in front of us, only to flit off into the undergrowth, where it scratched at last year’s leaves. Or the turkey we cane upon while rounding the sharp corner at the top of the wooded trail: it surprised all three of us, but the turkey was the only one to cluck and take flight. By the time we reached the summit, I’d already counted as many species as I did in our full two-hour hike yesterday—20. Heard calls of a blue jay, a pileated woodpecker, an osprey overhead. In fact, we also heard the wailing of a young cow from the little Rockville Street farm.
 Double-crested cormorant.
Spotted a harrier perched in a tree, a kestrel soaring over the summit. The Beech Nut phoebe family made their presence known. Despite the overnight rain, the dampness didn’t appear to soak in much—things are still relatively dry. Four sparrow species (all but chipping), raven, blue-headed vireo. Plenty of black flies hovering around my face and head.
Which might explain the other two warbler species I also heard today: yellow-rumped and black-throated green. Hope to grab some photos of the little guys soon.
So, thirty species at Beech Hill this morning. This afternoon, we hit the breakwater. Sheep-flock clouds floated over, and the difference between the sea and sky was negligible. But eiders were still hanging around, as were guillemots and common loons.
Just now, nearing midnight: damp and mild, with peepers—and the tseet of a white-throated sparrow.
 Sky, Beech HIll.
Beech Hill List
At 7:30 a.m., I walked all trails.
American crow
American robin
American goldfinch
Black-capped chickadee
Hermit thrush (voice)
Herring gull (voice)
Blue jay (voice)
Hairy woodpecker (voice)
Eastern towhee
White-throated sparrow (voice)
Osprey
Black-and-white warbler* (voice)
Nashville warbler* (voice)
Wild turkey
Brown thrasher
Pileated woodpecker (voice)
Field sparrow (voice)
Tree swallow
Mourning dove
Eastern phoebe
Savannah sparrow
Tufted titmouse (voice)
Song sparrow
Yellow-rumped warbler (voice)
Blue-headed vireo (voice)
Northern harrier
Common raven
American kestrel
Black-throated green warbler* (voice)
Red-winged blackbird
*first-of-year bird
Elsewhere
House finch
Downy woodpecker
Peepers
Northern cardinal
European starling
Rock pigeon
House sparrow
Common eider
Great black-backed gull
Common loon
Black guillemot
Mallard
 Gull and cormorant.
Tags: American crow, American goldfinch, American kestrel, American robin, black guillemot, black-and-white warbler, black-capped chickadee, black-throated green warbler, blue jay, blue-headed vireo, brown thrasher, common eider, common loon, common raven, downy woodpecker, eastern phoebe, eastern towhee, European starling, field sparrow, great black-backed gull, hairy woodpecker, hermit thrush, herring gull, house finch, house sparrow, mallard, mourning dove, Nashville warbler, northern cardinal, northern harrier, osprey, peepers, pileated woodpecker, red-winged blackbird, rock pigeon, savannah sparrow, song sparrow, tree swallow, tufted titouse, white-throated sparrow, wild turkey, yellow-rumped warbler Posted in Lists, Observations | No Comments »
Friday, April 30th, 2010
 Spring wood, Beech Hill.
When I first looked out at the sky this morning, I saw that it was cloudless. Wholly cloudless. Not a cloud in the sky. This seemed somehow promising—if somewhat scary—so we took only a few minutes, dog and I, before heading up to Beech Hill. (Although I did take time to make coffee.)
 Mourning dove.
No cars in the lot. At first, again, I heard only the commoner birds: chickadee, goldfinch, robin, herring gull down the road. But soon (again) came the voices of towhees. And then, ascending the upper woodland trail, I heard what at first sounded like the song of the catbird I heard the other day. And in just the same place. But again—as the other day—I thought I detected double-phrasing. Like a thrasher. I couldn’t see the bird beyond the tangles along the trail edge, but after passing I couldn’t help asking the dog to accompany back down a ways to take another look.
There it was: brown thrasher. Thus, I’ve gone back and changed my listing of a catbird on 26 April (Monday). None of those just yet. Oh, they’ll be here—but they’ve been beaten by a thrasher.
We came upon a red squirrel hiding just a few feet off the trail. Then just a few paces farther along, I heard the quay note of a hermit thrush—and the bird itself hopped up to a hidden twig (but not that hidden) not twenty feet from us. Good look, no possible photo.
 Chipping sparrow.
The air warmed quickly in the sun as we climbed the greening hill. But at the summit a quick wind howled in the little huddle of spruces. A huge wind, racing in from the west or northwest or southwest. I couldn’t listen well for all the wind. But I did hear savannah sparrows. Saw a couple, too, flitting about on the trail in front of us as they are wont to do. Not much else, though, until we reached the base of the open trail on the other side of the hill. The chipping sparrow that’s claimed one particular spruce down there was calling loudly from one of its branches. I caught sight of the bird for a change.
On the trail we met a mother with a young son. She also carried a baby. And a kite. On our return ascent we came upon the little family in a place of sailing wind. Sure enough, she’d managed to get the kite airborne, and the little guy was flying it like a pro. I snapped a couple photos.
There, off in the wind, the field sparrow. Coming back down the wooded trail: a titmouse. And a downy woodpecker. And, rather thrillingly, a blue-headed vireo. As we stopped to listen to the vireo, dog and I were suddenly cloaked in a cloud of black flies. A chickadee flitted in some hardwood branches above us, picking off flies.
I thought I’d be ending up with 17 species today—until I heard the voice of a crow from the parking. Looked up. The crow was chasing a raven.
 Great black-backed gull.
I went cycling this afternoon. I spent much of that time working at not getting blown over—but I also came upon a pair of ospreys soaring over a stretch of Route 1 near the Rockville Street farm. Such handsome birds. I’m glad I live among them.
And in late afternoon, dog and I hit the breakwater. Lots of birds today—and still-warm temperatures, and lighter winds. Black-backed gull, eiders, about a half-dozen red-breasted mergansers, a couple guillemots, one in mixed plumage and one in its full summer outfit. From the harbor side, I heard the yodel of a loon.
Yesterday we had sun and drizzle and, in some places, snow and sleet—even what some have called “hail.” Today we had sun and blue sky and wind and warmth. And flies. And an expectancy of warblers.
Beech Hill List
At 7:30 a.m., I walked all trails.
American robin (voice)
Black-capped chickadee
American goldfinch
Herring gull (voice)
Eastern towhee
Brown thrasher
Hermit thrush
White-throated sparrow (voice)
Mourning dove
Eastern phoebe
Common raven
Savannah sparrow
Chipping sparrow
Northern harrier
Field sparrow (voice)
Blue-headed vireo (voice)
Tufted titmouse (voice)
American crow
Elsewhere
House finch
Rock pigeon
Downy woodpecker
Osprey
Common grackle
Great black-backed gull
Common eider
Red-breasted merganser
Black guillemot
Common loon
 Afternoon sky, Rockland Harbor.
Tags: American robin, black guillemot, black-capped chickadee, blue-headed vireo, brown thrasher, chipping sparrow, common eider, common grackle, common loon, common raven, downy woodpecker, eastern phoebe, eastern towhee, field sparrow, great black-backed gull, hermit thrush, herring gull, house finch, mourning dove, northern harrier, osprey, red-breasted merganser, rock pigeon, savannah sparrow, tufted titmouse, white-throated sparrow 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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