Red-tailed hawk.
It was just one of those mornings. Yesterday evening’s heavy rain had ended, but the world was slick and wet, and the sky gray with fast-moving clouds, and I felt for some reason tired despite having just awakened. Instead of taking a morning hike, Jack and I dilly-dallied, had breakfast, goofed around. I heard crows and jays calling out among the trees.
Mount Desert.
The day proved interesting, weather-wise. Bright sun suddenly emerged in mid-morning but then disappeared just as suddenly, and a dark, low wall of clouds sped across the sky above the islands, moving from south to north. In afternoon, the sun emerged again for a while. Again it vanished. More than once I saw great groups of crows flocking, flapping, cawing. I’ve noticed that crows tend to hold their annual conventions in fall. One must be scheduled soon.
At some random point during the day, I believe standing out in a mist with the dog, I heard the voice of a waxwing.
Toward late-afternoon, as by magic, winds swept the clouds away. Blue sky overspread everything. As Jack and I headed off to do errands, I happened to notice a large, vivid rainbow arcing over in the east, its shimmering foot planted squarely in the bay. As the sun set, we headed to Beech Hill.
Nearing South Street, I noticed a little flock of robins fluttering in some roadside brush. Unidentifiable sparrows flitted across the road in front of us. As we headed up the open trail, the wind whipped crazily through the trees, raising a great rushing noise from everywhere.
Rain cloud.
After a minute or two, I heard a jay. Then a yell0w-rump. Otherwise, I heard only the wind. But as we climbed the steep rise, I spotted a hawk floating high above the summit. At first I thought it a harrier, but I soon recognized it as a buteo. A flash of red in its tail gave me a clue as to its species. I snapped off a few photos—or tried to. The wind whipped both hawk and me.
We reached the top, and I couldn’t help but stand and admire the eastern view—the sun setting behind us, the look of the islands and the foliage below, much of it going red or orange or yellow. Down below I saw movement: a pair of harriers, soaring low above the eastern fields, their wings looking reddish in the orange, angled sunlight. I watched the birds until my fingers began to feel slightly numb in the wind and chill.
Coming back down, the wind roared like a banshee. What a blustery day. Clouds of hayseed and dust spiraled around my head. A solitary sparrow hopped-flapped along the trail in front of us. (It behaved like a savannah sparrow, but I couldn’t make a definite ID.) Then I stopped for a moment to admire the sunset over the inland hills.
On our return home, it was nearly dark. The strident chip! of a cardinal sounded from somewhere behind us as we reached the door.
Sunset.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 5:30 p.m., I hiked the open trail.
1. Blue jay (voice)
2. Yellow-rumped warbler (voice)
3. Red-tailed hawk
4. Northern harrier
5. Sparrow (sp.)
Elsewhere
6. American crow
7. Herring gull
8. Cedar waxwing
9. American robin
10. Northern cardinal
