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Posts Tagged ‘common raven’
Wednesday, August 31st, 2011
 Jack on the trail. I’ve mentioned this before, but some of my best birding happens when I just stop and stand still.
Today was another lovely one—mostly sunny, slight northwesterly wind, warmish. I spent a fruitful morning at my desk, then my bandwidth conked out for some reason. It’s frustrating when you count on it as much as I suppose I must, but it did get me thinking that perhaps I shouldn’t be counting on it so much. I took it as a sign that it was time for a bike ride.
 Chestnut-sided warbler. Another nice ride. Not many birds to speak of—roadside crows, gulls in the blue, a cardinal in Rockport Village—but fragrant air, full lungs, deep breathing, sweat. I love riding my bike.
On my return, the bandwidth was still out, and I had a message reporting a server crash. Which I would’ve noticed a lot earlier, had I bandwidth. And which I could’ve fixed remotely, had I bandwidth. Instead, I high-tailed it to the datacenter and fixed things there. Then I drove home, grabbed Jack, and we headed for Beech Hill.
No one else there when we arrived. Heard chickadees, crows, and a goldfinch. A thin layer of wondrous clouds had moved over, though the sun still glowed brightly and blue still showed through. Just as we started up the steep slope, I heard a peep! and we stopped. In some tall brush to the left of us, sparrows were darting about. White-throats, keeping well hidden. As we stood there, I heard a raven from somewhere in the northwest (where I believe they keep a nest). Suddenly, a towhee flitted between two bushes and disappeared—I saw its white-edged tailfeathers. And just then a little bird appeared, a female chestnut-sided warbler, eyeing us. Tried for some photos, but the bird didn’t stay. As I was looking for where the chestnut-sided got off to, another warbler, a male yellowthroat, poked its head out. And I heard the call of a waxwing.
 Crows and harrier Within just a minute or two, I’d added six birds to my list. They were being secretive, sneaky, furtive—or calling from a distance. All it took was a moment of standing still and paying attention.
Nearing the summit, I heard a wood-pewee singing from down the southern slope. First one of those in a while. And at the berry patch (about a dozen each of black- and blueberries), I heard the note of a hairy woodpecker. New total: eleven species.
But since I eschew prime numbers when it comes to my bird lists (crazy, I know), I felt a need to ID one more species. No new birds until we got close to the parking lot. I had a feeling, and so we stopped. Stood still. Sure enough, I heard the mew! of a catbird. Granted, I had a feeling I might hear one down there in the thicket of small trees, where I know they’ve nested. But still.
So if you’re birding and having little luck, just find a nice spot and stand there. Chances are, if you pay close enough attention, you’ll discover something cool.
 Beech Nut. Tonight, the air has a fragrant smell, with a hint of salt air. I could breathe air like this for the rest of my life without complaining.
Addendum: As I processed my photos for this entry, I realized that the image I thought would show three crows in flight actually shows two crows and a northern harrier. Guess that explains why they (there were about a half-dozen crows in all) seemed to be kind of ganging up on that one bird. (And it also leaves me with the lucky prime number thirteen.)
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 6 p.m., I hiked the open trail.
1. Black-capped chickadee (voice)
2. American crow
3. American goldfinch
4. White-throated sparrow
5. Common raven (voice)
6. Eastern towhee
7. Cedar waxwing
8. Chestnut-sided warbler
9. Common yellowthroat
10. Northern harrier
11. Eastern wood-pewee (voice)
12. Hairy woodpecker (voice)
13. Gray catbird
Elsewhere
14. Herring gull
15. Northern cardinal
Tags: American crow, American goldfinch, black-capped chickadee, Cedar waxwing, chestnut-sided warbler, common raven, common yellowthroat, eastern towhee, eastern wood-pewee, gray catbird, hairy woodpecker, herring gull, northern cardinal, white-throated sparrow
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Friday, August 12th, 2011
 Cloud beyond Beech Hill. On a sunny summer afternoon, if your world faces east, you might enjoy a cool view of the gathering twilight, the lengthening shadows, the lazy feel of the end of another day. If, on the other hand, your view is oriented to the west, you’re liable to bask in the warm orange light of the sun as it starts its descent beyond the inland hills.
 Bee. I won’t tell the tale of the kind of work day this turned out to be. I’ll just mention that I awoke to the slight sound signaling a text message arriving to my cell phone. And that I didn’t eat breakfast until 3:30 p.m. After breakfast I rode my bike fast along a sunny, mild landscape frequented by robins, jays, sparrows, cardinals, crows. And after my bike ride, I grabbed my dog’s leash, hooked up my dog, and we high-tailed it for Beech Hill. The open trail.
The open trail climbs the western slope of the hill. The day had grown later than usual by the time we arrived, but sun flooded the hillside, warmed the summer grass. Coming up along the road, I heard the voice of a red-eyed vireo—a common bird on the other, wooded side of the hill these days—which got me thinking about the path of the sun, the rotation of our planet, and why direction matters. Had we hiked the wooded trails, all would be dim and green and cool and kind of languid. There would be close sounds, like rustling poplar leaves and scurryings in the undergrowth. But on the side we chose, the sounds were wide and distant, and the day was plain and bright and vivid. Jack trotted along. I swung my arms.
Bees attending the trailside wildflowers. Waxwings sailing over in pairs and threes. Goldfinches everywhere. Crows were congregating down at the sunny base of the eastern field. Two couples sat in the grass on either side of Beech Nut.
 American crow. I imagined the poignant, lovely calls of wood-pewees and hermit thrushes down the wooded slope. Here in the sun, Jack and I ate a few blackberries.
In summer, the eastern sides of things might cater to the young and impatient—rise early, get busy, play until you’re exhausted come shady afternoon. The western sides might have an allure to the more mature among us, who busy themselves with routine responsibilities early and yearn for warmth and sunsets—being in the afternoons of their lives.
Or maybe I’m all mixed up. Who knows?
All I knew this afternoon was the thrill of hearing the low croak of a raven and the newly familiar chip note of a chestnut-sided warbler. And the taste of blackberries. And the lovely long view of the bay.
Tonight, the moon seems full but distant—somehow smaller than usual. I had the windows open, and Jack got all riled a minute ago after having caught the scent of something out the screens. I think of the olive-green afternoons of my youth and the afternoons yet to come. Still compelled to chase the sun.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 6:15 p.m., I hiked the open trail.
1. Red-eyed vireo (voice)
2. American goldfinch
3. Eastern towhee (voice)
4. Savannah sparrow
5. American crow
6. Cedar waxwing
7. Common raven (voice)
8. Gray catbird (voice)
9. Common yellowthroat (voice)
10. Chestnut-sided warbler (voice)
11. Black-capped chickadee (voice)
12. Song sparrow
Elsewhere
13. White-breasted nuthatch
14. Northern cardinal
15. Herring gull
16. Mourning dove
17. House sparrow
18. American robin
19. Blue jay
20. Laughing gull
Tags: American crow, American goldfinch, American robin, black-capped chickadee, blue jay, Cedar waxwing, chestnut-sided warbler, common raven, common yellowthroat, eastern towhee, gray catbird, herring gull, house sparrow, laughing gull, mourning dove, northern cardinal, red-eyed vireo, savannah sparrow, song sparrow, white-breasted nuthatch
Posted in Lists, Observations | No Comments »
Monday, August 8th, 2011
 Blackberries. The appearance of ripe blackberries never fails to astonish me. I’ll be hiking along a scrubby summer trail one sunny day in August, and suddenly there they are. It’s as if they appear by magic overnight. (Perhaps they do.) And then I eat a handful.
 American lady. This day began a little soggy—which perhaps shouldn’t have surprised anyone, considering yesterday’s drenching—but dried up pretty quickly. The low clouds pulled back to reveal a blue sky beyond a slow stampede of great, high cumulus. There were gulls up there, too, and cardinals singing in the shady tangles out back. I spent a relatively leisurely day at my desk, catching up from a relatively frantic weekend, rediscovering my bearings.
Early in afternoon, with no sign of a a rumored thundershower, I jumped on my bike and pedaled to town. Bank, post office. Turned and pedaled the other way up to where I like to buy my tubes (I might’ve forgotten to mention the flat tire I had to change on Saturday). I’ll bet the high temperature didn’t rise out of the 70s (F), but I worked up plenty of perspiration nonetheless. At one point, in Rockport Village, a robin darted across the road not three feet in front of me—so close I could see the whites of its eyes. OK, not really. But close enough.
Coming back south I noticed a small collection of Canada geese in a little pond. Heard a nuthatch. Mourning doves on utility lines. Roadside crows.
After work, I decided Jack might like a hike up the open Beech Hill trail for a change. Also, I felt like avoiding the prospect of larval deer ticks on the wooded trails, for this is the season.
 Gray catbird. The sun shone down around the piles of mountainous clouds, and my bird list began to mount. First I heard the coos of a dove. Then the familiar voices of goldfinch and waxwing. By the time we reached the summit (it doesn’t take that long), I’d added a raven and an osprey to my list. We took a quick side-trip down along the blueberry fields on the wooded side, and the ospreys kept screaming. I spotted them finally—a family apparently, stretching their wings—soaring lazily over the northern hillside. It was down along those fields when I stumbled on the blackberries.
I’m sure I let out a whispered cry. “Whoa.” “Cool.” Something like that. First I took some pictures, and then I picked some blackberries.
Blueberries might be sweeter and more delectable. But there’s something about the little bite, the slight crunch of a ripe, juicy blackberry. There’s a lot of juice in a blackberry. I introduced Jack to their sweet-sour juiciness.
This cool, blue evening the sky cleared completely. And the waxwing moon set whitely in the southeast sky. It must be a blackberry moon.
Later: after midnight, I spotted a possum loping swiftly along the shoulder of Route 1, headed in my direction. It took a left into my parking lot and looked for a moment like it was headed up the back stairs—but then I heard the slight sound of it climbing the hill.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 5:30 p.m., I hiked the open trail.
1. Mourning dove (voice)
2. American goldfinch (voice)
3. Cedar waxwing
4. Chestnut-sided warbler
5. Common raven (voice)
6. Eastern towhee
7. Osprey
8. American robin (voice)
9. Common yellowthroat (voice)
10. Savannah sparrow (voice)
11. Gray catbird
12. Song sparrow
13. Alder flycatcher (voice)
14. American crow (voice)
15. Eastern wood-pewee (voice)
16. Red-eyed vireo (voice)
17. Black-capped chickadee (voice)
18. White-breasted nuthatch (voice)
Elsewhere
19. Northern cardinal
20. Herring gull
21. Canada goose
 Southeastern field.
Tags: alder flycatcher, American crow, American goldfinch, American robin, black-capped chickadee, Canada goose, Cedar waxwing, chestnut-sided warbler, common raven, common yellowthroat, eastern towhee, eastern wood-pewee, gray catbird, herring gull, mourning dove, northern cardinal, osprey, red-eyed vireo, savannah sparrow, song sparrow, white-breasted nuthatch
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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