The hills (from Beech Hill).
This morning, when swimming up out of my dream about my new dog, something about the timbre of the cardinal’s voice out the back window tipped me off to the awesomeness of the day to come. Sun, check. Breeze, calm. Smell of the air, fresh. Aside from the cardinal, I counted ten species calling pretty much simultaneously: eastern phoebe, song sparrow, tufted titmouse, downy woodpecker, American robin, house finch, goldfinch, mourning dove, house sparrow, crow.
Mourning dove.
The cardinal, phoebe, and mourning dove were not shy. The locally dominant individual of each species gave forth from conspicuous perches very near where the dog and I walked. Got a photo of the dove.
On our Beech Hill walk at late morning, I overdressed. Right away, in fact, I ended up wearing both my sweatshirt and loose, long-sleeved T-shirt tied around my waist. The temperature must’ve been about 72 degrees (F). Even the breeze on the summit felt warm. I heard the call of a pileated woodpecker, a phoebe, a titmouse, a robin, chickadees. I saw a female harrier soaring low over the bronze-grassed hill. Song sparrows sun from conspicuous places, and I couldn’t help but wonder when the first savannah sparrow would arrive. (Savannahs own the grassy part of Beech Hill.) No swallows today, nor vultures, nor broad-wings. I did spy a distant hawk, but I couldn’t tell if it was a redtail or perhaps even the marsh hawk I’d seen rising to continue its spring migration.
Great egret, Weskeag Marsh.
Back home, as soon as I got out of the pickup, I spotted another hawk—again, I couldn’t tell if it was a red-tailed or broad-winged or harrier or what. All I could tell for sure is that about a half dozen crows herded it noisily away to the south.
In early afternoon, my friends Kristen and Paul showed up to check out my new iPad. But more fun was our quick trip to Weskeag Marsh on Buttermilk Lane. On the way, I chuckled internally at a few ring-billed gulls perched strategically on a high roof across the road from McDonald’s. Readily evident at the marsh were black ducks and killdeers and gulls and crows. Behind us sang a red-winged blackbird. Facing a suddenly stout (but warm) south wind, we saw in the farthest pond little ducks, green-winged teals no doubt. I happened to spot a solitary adult bald eagle soaring up over the conifers on the far side. But leave it to eagle-eyed Kristen to ID two notable species: blue-winged teal (a pair) and great egret (an individual). Both were first-of-year sightings for me.
Buoy.
I rode my bike again, saw rock pigeons and Canada geese—somewhat fewer—at Aldermere farm. (Aside: I’m up to 160 miles already this year.) Then dog and I headed for the breakwater, spotting a pair of buffleheads in Clam Cove along the way.
It was approaching 6 p.m. I wore sandals and a T-shirt and jeans: the perfect dress. The wind had died down, and the water’s surface on bay side of the breakwater spread calm and smooth and reflective. A slightly choppier surface on the harbor side had nonetheless attracted a few long-tailed ducks, which I heard chatting and gossiping as they took wing on their evening flight back out to sea. But the action was on the island side: loons (several, a couple in breeding plumage), eiders, red-breasted mergansers. Herring gulls and black-backed gulls wheeled and sailed and cried. I could hardly believe the calm in that direction.
Nearing the shore again, a breeze kicked up, roughening the surface again. Cardinals and house finches and robins sang to the waning day.
Gull.
Today’s List
Northern cardinal
Song sparrow
Tufted titmouse
American robin
House finch
Mourning dove
Downy woodpecker
House sparrow
American crow
Eastern phoebe
American goldfinch
Herring gull
Pileated woodpecker
Black-capped chickadee
Northern harrier
Ring-billed gull
Black duck
Red-winged blackbird
Killdeer
Green-winged teal
Bald eagle
Blue-winged teal
Great egret
Rock pigeons
Canada goose
Bufflehead
Common eider
Red-breasted merganser
Common loon
Long-tailed duck
Great black-backed gull
Calm sea.
