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Posts Tagged ‘greater black-backed gull’
Saturday, September 18th, 2010
 Yellow-rumped warbler. Now this was a birdy morning. Just a few days from fall, the sun rising late from Penobscot Bay into a cloudless sky, temperatures possibly as low as the upper-40s. [I need to revamp my weather station.] Jack and I got to the Beech Hill trail at about twenty minutes to seven.
 Scarlet tanager (juvenile and/or female). Not much right away. A hairy woodpecker’s voice. A couple chickadees. A crow in the distance. Towhee, goldfinch, catbird—the usual. But as the sun warmed the eastern sides of things, I knew just where to slow my pace and sneak around curves in the trail to watch for little birds in the warming foliage. Seems the night was good for migration, or something. Because nearly every such spot paid off.
By the time we reached first, about half-way up, I was already hearing the distinctive chip! notes of yellow-rumped warblers—these little guys seem to migrate early, both in spring and fall, and in large numbers—and sure enough they flitted into the very trees I’d stopped to survey. We must’ve stayed there ten minutes snapping photos. And, as usual, other species made an appearance: the voices of flicker and white-throat and jay and nuthatch, and a solitary female (maybe juvenile?) scarlet tanager that hopped up onto a twig not thirty feet away.
 American robin (juvenile). The next such spot also bore fruit: coming up into the open trail just before the summit, we paused to listen to more chip! notes and snap more photos of yellow-rumps. And shortly after, in the spruce grove at the summit, still more ‘rumps. Man, that species is abundant.
But less abundant birds also showed up today—in some cases, surprisingly. Coming down the open trail, I couldn’t help but notice several small birds in overflight, apparently in migration, some chipping like warblers, some peeping like finches. Then a couple small birds flew down close to the field and landed near Beech Nut: juncos. And seconds later, I spotted a pair of kestrels flapping lazily by, scanning the southern slope.
 Yellow-rumped warbler. Down at Beech Hill Road, I caught sight of the resident cardinal family (and heard their chip notes). A tight flock of waxings flew over. And I heard the sudden repetitive cu! notes of a black-billed cuckoo.
Coming back up and over, more ‘rumps in the spruce grove. And the sudden sound of Canada geese coming from somewhere toward the northwest, out in the direction of misty Blue Hill. Then diving into the lower wooded trail we came upon a riotous gang of songbirds: titmice and warblers (redstart, black-throated blue, black-and-white) and chickadees and brown creepers. There were little birds everywhere. One of the black-throated blues was even singing. Alas, it’s hard to get a good photo at any distance in the dim greenery down there.
But because of the bodacious bird activity, we ended up spending more time than usual on the hill this morning. And I left feeling more of a thrill.
For a birder, not many times of year match the start of fall migration.
 Brown creeper. Beech Hill List
Beginning at 6:45 a.m., I hiked all trails.
1. Hairy woodpecker (voice)
2. Black-capped chickadee
3. American crow
4. Eastern towhee
5. American goldfinch (voice)
6. Gray catbird
7. American robin
8. White-throated sparrow
9. Blue jay
10. Yellow-rumped warbler
11. Northern flicker
12. White-breasted nuthatch (voice)
13. Scarlet tanager
14. Song sparrow (voice)
15. Eastern phoebe
16. Savannah sparrow
17. Dark-eyed junco
18. American kestrel
19. Northern cardinal
20. Red-eyed vireo
21. Cedar waxwing
22. Black-billed cuckoo (voice)
23. Canada goose (voice)
24. Tufted titmouse (voice)
25. American redstart
26. Black-throated blue warbler
27. Black-and-white warbler
28. Brown creeper
Elsewhere
29. Herring gull
30. Greater black-backed gull
 Mount Desert.
Tags: American crow, American goldfinch, American kestrel, American redstart, American robin, black-and-white warbler, black-billed cuckoo, black-capped chickadee, black-throated blue warbler, blue jay, brown creeper, Canada goose, Cedar waxwing, dark-eyed junco, eastern phoebe, eastern towhee, gray catbird, greater black-backed gull, hairy woodpecker, herring gull, northern cardinal, northern flicker, red-eyed vireo, savannah sparrow, scarlet tanager, song sparrow, tufted titmouse, white-breasted nuthatch, white-throated sparrow, yellow-rumped warbler
Posted in Lists, Observations | No Comments »
Friday, August 6th, 2010
 Morning glade. Yesterday I read a local news account of a mountain lion sighting in Owls Head, a couple towns down from here. I believe it. In fact, I’ve believed most of the Maine mountain lion sightings I recall in the past couple decades, several of them close by—one in Waldoboro, one in Sheepscot, one in Warren, one in West Rockport, and one a couple years ago no more than a quarter-mile from where I now sit. It was sunning on a ledge overlooking Route 1.
 Common yellowthroat. Since their extermination a century ago, the state doesn’t recognize the eastern cougar as a wild species in Maine. Not enough proof. Some folks have permits to keep the lions as “pets,” see, so maybe these sightings are escapees. Politics plays into it, for sure: if wild mountain lions are accepted as endemic, that’d mean big changes to conservation regulations, hunting regulations, a lot of regulations. Not so popular a prospect, in Maine.
Coincidentally, before Jack and I took off for Beech Hill this early morning, I found out that a friend is heading for Boulder, Colorado, for a while. Boulder is a cool place, a university town, a liberal enclave, a conservation-minded community that happens also to be the main setting of Beast in the Garden, a riveting read by David Baron about the encroachment of humans on cougars’ territory out west. “Watch out for mountain lions,” I wrote on her Facebook wall.
I wasn’t just goofing around.
 Ruby-throated hummingbird (female). All this is to say that during this early morning’s Beech Hill hike, I had big cats on my mind. Lions could’ve been lurking anywhere. They have huge territories, but they scout them in a circuit. If any happened to frequent the hill, they’d likely know Jack’s and my routine.
But I wasn’t really scared or anything. I had birds on the brain, as usual.
It was a hazy morning. I took as a good sign the little family of wild turkeys that scrambled away from my truck as we pulled into the Rockville Street parking lot. Soon after, I’d seen or heard (mostly heard) a dozen species.
 Red-breasted nuthatch. The hot spot today was the summit. As we emerged from the wooded trail into the last little open expanse before the spruce grove at the top, we were met with rollicking, eye-catching, ear-snatching activity. Song sparrows and white-throats, and an eastern phoebe. Red-breasted nuthatches in the spruces. At least one yellow-rumped warbler. Young towhees. A hummingbird, and then another zipping audibly, loudly, by my ears.
It was all very exciting (to me, if not Jack). I didn’t know whether to grab my camera or my fieldglasses.
Descending to the Beech Hill Road side, I could hardly believe my eyes: sure enough, a cat. The first cat I’ve ever seen on the hill (though I think I’ve seen cat scat). A pretty big cat, too—but not a wild one. A black domestic feline hunkered down among the blueberries.
Two swallows on the list today, for the first day I can remember: a tree swallow on the way up, a barn swallow on the way back over and down. Still no chippy (the Beech Hill Road chipping sparrow stopped singing about a week ago), but the other four revealed themselves. Coming back down the lower wooded trail, I had lions on my mind again—seemed a perfect landscape for an ambush—but ran into none. Then, in perhaps the wildest surprise just as we were about to wrap things up, I heard both a greater yellowlegs calling in overflight and a northern cardinal singing in the northeast distance. Simultaneously.
Weird.
Tell you the truth, now that I think on it, I don’t believe I need to worry about getting attacked by a cougar up there.
 Red-breasted nuthatch. Beech Hill List
Beginning at 6:30 a.m., I hiked all trails.
1. Wild turkey
2. American goldfinch
3. Red-eyed vireo (voice)
4. White-breasted nuthatch
5. American crow (voice)
6. Eastern towhee
7. Black-capped chickadee
8. Common yellowthroat
9. Gray catbird
10. Cedar waxwing
11. Hermit thrush (voice)
12. Blue jay
13. White-throated sparrow
14. Song sparrow
15. Eastern phoebe
16. Red-breasted nuthatch
17. Yellow-rumped warbler
18. Ruby-throated hummingbird
19. Savannah sparrow
20. Tree swallow
21. Yellow warbler (voice)
22. Field sparrow
23. Eastern wood-pewee (voice)
24. Mourning dove (voice)
25. Chestnut-sided warbler
26. American robin (voice)
27. Downy woodpecker
28. Barn swallow
29. Greater yellowlegs (voice)
30. Northern cardinal (voice)
Elsewhere
31. Herring gull
32. Greater black-backed gull
 Domestic cat.
Tags: American crow, American goldfinch, American robin, barn swallow, black-capped chickadee, blue jay, Cedar waxwing, common yellowthroat, downy woodpecker, eastern phoebe, eastern towhee, eastern wood-pewee, field sparrow, gray catbird, greater black-backed gull, greater yellowlegs, hermit thrush, herring gull, mourning dove, northern cardinal, red-breasted nuthatch, red-eyed vireo, ruby-throated hummingbird, savannah sparrow, song sparrow, tree swallow, white-breasted nuthatch, white-throated sparrow, wild turkey, yellow warbler, yellow-rumped warbler
Posted in Observations | No Comments »
Monday, February 1st, 2010
 American crow. There shouldn’t be so many crows. I know this. I tend to ignore it, because I like crows. They’re smart—maybe the smartest wild bird—and their language fascinates me. I sometimes obsess over their language. For instance, they’ve got this particular call: two caws, a pause, and two more caws. I’ve also heard a simple five-caw call; this is a five-caw call without the middle caw. What does it mean?
But there are too many. Something’s amiss. Something’s out of balance.
I don’t pretend to know what it is. I just know I have an eye (and an ear?) for balance, so I know imbalance when I see it (hear it?). Something’s out of kilter. Some pattern’s gone akimbo.
The comforting thing is, Nature will abide. Sometimes it takes a while. Sometimes there’s suffering. But in the long run, Nature will restore the balance. It might mean extinction. It might mean—will probably mean—sorrowful loss of life. But Nature will smooth things over eventually.
 Gulls at Clam Cove. Today, as usual, the first bird I counted was a crow. I heard the caw of an American crow soon after awakening, in fact—from bed. An hour or so later, out on the frigid, sun-splashed deck, I heard a black-capped chickadee. An hour or two after that, I heard a goldfinch and house sparrow up the road from me. I think the new tenants of a neighboring rental place must’ve hung a feeder.
This late-afternoon, while driving up to the Rockport Village post office, I looked over the guardrail to Clam Cove and saw a cloud of small gulls flapping actively in the dwindling, angular sunlight. At that moment, I decided to walk that shore on my return. And so I did. It was cold, windy. The sun was just about to set. It must’ve been low tide. I nearly slid down the snowy bank—just barely caught myself. Great plates of ice lay at odd angles on the flat amid crunchy masses of seaweed and rocks and empty clamshells. Away at the edge of the tide were herring gulls, black-backed gulls, and dozens of little gulls—many of them the same Bonaparte’s gulls I saw there a couple days ago, no doubt. Although I’m sure it’s a common sight at this season, I’d personally never seen so many small gulls together. They were half the size of the herring gulls. I took some photos.
Off in the waters at the opposite bank of the cove I saw a good number of ducks too distant to identify. I imagine them to have been black ducks, maybe goldeneyes and buffleheads, maybe a merganser or two. The sun was going down. The wind came gusting from the southwest. It was cold.
The temperature stuck in the 20s (F) all day. Tonight, the sky is clear and the stars are vivid. I feel like I might reach up and touch Orion.
Today’s List
American crow
Black-capped chickadee
Hairy woodpecker
American goldfinch
Herring gull
Ring-billed gull
Bonaparte’s gull
Greater black-backed gull
 Clam Cove, Rockport, Maine, 01 February 2010.
Tags: American crow, American goldfinch, black-capped chickadee, Bonaparte's gull, greater black-backed gull, hairy woodpecker, herring gull, ring-billed gull
Posted in Lists, Observations | 2 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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