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Posts Tagged ‘red-shouldered hawk’
Monday, June 6th, 2011
 Ruffed grouse. Last night before bed, I stepped out to look at the stars and instead found myself watching a possum hurry across the parking lot and crash through the leaves up the black hill out back.
 Eastern towhee (male). This morning, I rose early enough for a quick hike up Beech Hill with dog before work. A lovely day, with mild temperatures and hardly any wind. The usual birds made an appearance—resident warblers, a grosbeak today, some towhees scratching about near the trail. I heard both a waxwing and a catbird, which have been relatively silent the past few days. Also a flicker.
The phoebe with the nest high in the eaves of Beech Nut was singing. The landscape was fair.
We returned down the lower wooded trail and heard the parula that’s been calling down there. Also the pewee. About half-way down, Jack and I both noticed a faint rustling of last fall’s leaves to our left, but no bird or animal was apparent. Still we slowed to scan the wooded slope. And then it happened. Something hurried toward us from behind, hissing and bleating and kicking up a small fountain of leaves. We stopped and turned quickly, and I saw right away it was a grouse, realized right away it was protecting its chicks, but got a little nervous right away—because it was heading straight for us, wings outspread, beak low and dangerous-looking.
I’ve come upon grouse in spring two or three times before but have never had one charge right at me like that.
 Eastern towhee (female). I cautioned Jack (who was as surprised as I) not to act, then at the last minute it veered away, crossed the path in front of us, and zig-zagged through the undergrowth emitting what sounded like a loud whine. Only then did I think to try for a photo, and we moved a little ways toward it along the trail, but the bird kept pretty well hidden. So we backtracked slowly—I took care not to step on any hatchlings—and waited for the grouse to return. Which it did, clucking rapidly in a soft but insistent way. About that time, I pushed the video button on my camera. The scene was a bit frantic, but also inspiring—as an animal’s instincts to protect its young always is.
In the wake of the excitement, I thought about the woodcock we flushed a couple days ago and the turkeys from yesterday. They, too, had chicks, I feel sure of it. Eggs are hatching all over the place.
In early afternoon, I took advantage of the glorious weather to head out cycling for a bit. Coming up Powerhouse Hill, with Clam Cove to my right, I caught sight of a buteo circling overhead. I slowed enough to get a good look at its underwing pattern—which included a pair of clear, well-defined wing “windows.” A red-shouldered hawk.
 Evidence of three species. Here at my place, the redstart’s still calling. The phoebes are watching their nest. I haven’t seen the nuthatches lately, but they get pretty sneaky at this time of year.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 7:45 a.m., I hiked the wooded trails.
1. Ovenbird (voice)
2. Black-throated green warbler (voice)
3. Chestnut-sided warbler
4. Red-eyed vireo (voice)
5. Veery (voice)
6. Rose-breasted grosbeak (voice)
7. Common yellowthroat
8. American crow
9. Black-and-white warbler (voice)
10. American goldfinch (voice)
11. Eastern towhee
12. Alder flycatcher
13. American redstart (voice)
14. Cedar waxwing (voice)
15. Northern flicker (voice)
16. Black-capped chickadee (voice)
17. Yellow warbler (voice)
18. Song sparrow
19. Gray catbird (voice)
20. Eastern phoebe
21. Savannah sparrow
22. Northern parula (voice)
23. Eastern wood-pewee (voice)
24. Ruffed grouse
25. Blue jay (voice)
Elsewhere
26 House finch
27. House sparrow
28. Herring gull
29. Double-crested cormorant
30. Mourning dove
31. European starling
32. Red-shouldered hawk
33. Chipping sparrow
34. Red-winged blackbird
35. Northern cardinal
36. Rock pigeon
Tags: alder flycatcher, American crow, American goldfinch, American redstart, black-and-white warbler, black-capped chickadee, black-throated green warbler, blue jay, Cedar waxwing, chestnut-sided warbler, chipping sparrow, common yellowthroat, double-crested cormorant, eastern phoebe, eastern towhee, eastern wood-pewee, European starling, gray catbird, herring gull, house finch, house sparrow, mourning dove, northern cardinal, northern flicker, northern parula, ovenbird, red-eyed vireo, red-shouldered hawk, red-winged blackbird, rock pigeon, rose-breasted grosbeak, ruffed grouse, savannah sparrow, song sparrow, veery, yellow warbler
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Sunday, May 22nd, 2011
 Ruby-throated hummingbird. When I first checked out the world this morning, it was dry. That was a switch. The dryness of the world prompted me to rouse Jack for a hike around Beech Hill. But first—wouldn’t you know?—I caught sight of a phoebe zipping silently away from the nest atop my back window. I guess my nest-abandonment worries were unfounded. (Yet again.) Sneaky little birds.
 Common yellowthroat. We descended the back stairs to the accompaniment of the song of the resident house finch. Also noticed a catbird out there (first at my place this year). Saw crows. Heard an ovenbird. And a titmouse.
No vehicles in the Rockville Street parking lot when we arrived—but plenty of warblers in the periphery. Again, in fact, the first several species on my list today were warblers. Also the voices of a robin, a blue-headed vireo, and gulls. A redstart singing near the little brook. A veery in the trees. The usual rose-breasted grosbeak.
As we came around the curve by the big glacial stones and on through the grove of poplars, I paused to scan the canopy; but when I began to walk again, Jack wasn’t ready to go. I looked to see him staring fixedly off into the undergrowth. I know by now to pay attention to such fixed dog stares and finally made out what he was so interested in: a hoary ol’ porcupine was lumbering slowly along about twenty feet off the trail. We stayed to watch it for a while (too much intervening foliage for a photo) before I advised him that porcupines were off-limits and we continued on our way.
As we ascended, the songs kept coming: black-and-white warbler, goldfinch, jay. At one point, I heard the screams of an osprey and looked up to see one carrying a fish on high—and another swooping low over the trees.
The mew! of a catbird, the chip of a white-throat, the liquid notes of a tree swallow. And soon I heard the call of my first Beech Hill waxwing of the season. Perhaps my concerns about a dearth of that species are also unfounded.
Coming around the turn through the upper fields, I heard the faint dee-dee! of a hummingbird—their subtle call of alarm—and we stopped. As I peered in the direction of the call (they’re hard to spot when perching), another one darted by and sat on a twig not far from us, clearly unaware. A female. I got a pretty decent photo.
 Ovenbird. After a day without savannah sparrows, I saw two this morning—but heard none singing. Must be that nesting time of year.
Heard a field sparrow, though, and a red-winged blackbird. Also a cowbird. And a grosbeak singing loudly again from down toward the Beech Hill Road parking lot.
On our return, soon after we entered the lower wooded trail, as we were walking slow, listening, the sound of wingbeats shot past us from behind, and a handsome male pileated woodpecker appeared on the trunk of a fallen tree not very far away. I remembered that my camera can record pretty decent videos and got about thirty seconds of it poking around. Also snapped a few photos.
Down in the deeper woods, I heard the chiming alternate call of a black-throated blue warbler—and then the whistles of a broad-winged hawk. I even spotted the hawk in the distance through the canopy.
Many good birds. A fruitful hike. But it wouldn’t be my last today.
 Pileated woodpecker. Because Jack and I met my friend Liz and her son, Daniel, for a midday stroll through the Ducktrap River Preserve—a place she’d visited for a bird walk last weekend (led by my friend Kristen) but where I’d never been. Again, we were greeted by warblers’ voices, along with the cries of a rising osprey. Black flies decided to swarm, too, which proved a challenge for us humans but no doubt kept the birds happy. Before long, I’d seen my first-of-year Wilson’s warbler. We heard a pair of ravens fly over, heard the drumming of a grouse, and heard the cries of a red-shouldered hawk. I also caught the rattle of a kingfisher down toward the river—another first-of-year bird for me.
As we came through a stretch of tall conifers, blackburnian warblers began to sing from the canopy. Quite a few of them, each with a slightly different very-high-pitched song. They’re such gorgeous little birds but so hard to see—although I think we each got at least a peek.
An hour or so in, with a least flycatcher calling nearby, I pointed out the song of a tanager coming from a wooded slope below us, but it was Daniel who spotted the bird. Also my first tanager of the year.
Not long after the black flies were joined by mosquitos, we decided to turn back. Right about then I heard a low barking call in the distance behind us. A faraway dog or a barred owl? We stopped, listened, and confirmed that, by golly, it was an owl.
 Scarlet tanager. In all, we counted thirty-one species along the Ducktrap today. Another very fruitful hike.
Back home, checking out the nuthatch cavity, I happened to spot a red blotch on the ground between the tree trunks up the back hill. I squinted, but it sat motionless. Some bit of wind-blown trash? Nope. It finally moved. A male cardinal.
And tonight, not long ago—under the first clear sky I’ve seen in more than a week—I heard the flight song of a woodcock.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 9 a.m., I hiked all trails.
1. Ovenbird
2. Northern parula (voice)
3. Black-throated green warbler (voice)
4. Common yellowthroat
5. Chestnut-sided warbler
6. American robin
7. Blue-headed vireo (voice)
8. Herring gull
9. American redstart
10. Black-and-white warbler
11. Veery (voice)
12. Rose-breasted grosbeak (voice)
13. Blue jay (voice)
14. American goldfinch (voice)
15. White-throated sparrow
16. Osprey
17. Gray catbird
18. Hermit thrush (voice)
19. Tree swallow
20. Black-capped chickadee
21. Mourning dove (voice)
22. Cedar waxwing (voice)
23. Northern flicker (voice)
24. Yellow warbler (voice)
25. Ruby-throated hummingbird
26. Song sparrow
27. American crow (voice)
28. Savannah sparrow
29. Nashville warbler (voice)
30. Red-winged blackbird (voice)
31. Field sparrow (voice)
32. Great crested flycatcher (voice)
33. Chipping sparrow
34. Hairy woodpecker (voice)
35. Eastern phoebe
36. Brown-headed cowbird
37. Pileated woodpecker
38. Black-throated blue warbler (voice)
39. Broad-winged hawk
 Trillium at Ducktrap River Preserve. Ducktrap River Preserve
Beginning at 12 noon, I hiked the trail for a couple hours.
Chestnut-sided warbler
Northern parula
Common yellowthroat
Ovenbird
Osprey
Black-throated green warbler
Black-capped chickadee
Mourning dove
Rose-breasted grosbeak
40. Wilson’s warbler
41. Common raven
Veery
Blue jay
Hermit thrush
American robin
American goldfinch
Nashville warbler
41. Ruffed grouse
42. Magnolia warbler
43. Red-shouldered hawk
44. Least flycatcher
45. Blackburnian warbler
Black-and-white warbler
Northern flicker
46. Belted kingfisher
Blue-headed vireo
47. Purple finch
48. Scarlet tanager
49. White-breasted nuthatch
50. Barred owl
Eastern phoebe
Elsewhere
51. House finch
52. House sparrow
53. Tufted titmouse
54. Double-crested cormorant
55. European starling
56. Mallard
57. Common grackle
58. Northern cardinal
59. American woodcock
Tags: American crow, American goldfinch, American redstart, American robin, barred owl, belted kingfisher, black-and-white warbler, black-capped chickadee, black-throated blue warbler, black-throated green warbler, blackburnian warbler, blue jay, blue-headed vireo, broad-winged hawk, brown-headed cowbird, Cedar waxwing, chestnut-sided warbler, chipping sparrow, common grackle, common raven, common yellowthroat, double-crested cormorant, eastern phoebe, European starling, field sparrow, gray catbird, great crested flycatcher, hairy woodpecker, hermit thrush, herring gull, house finch, house sparrow, least flycatcher, magnolia warbler, mallard, mourning dove, Nashville warbler, northern cardinal, northern flicker, northern parula, osprey, ovenbird, pileated woodpecker, porcupine, purple finch, red-shouldered hawk, red-winged blackbird, rose-breasted grosbeak, ruby-throated hummingbird, ruffed grouse, savannah sparrow, scarlet tanager, song sparrow, tree swallow, tufted titmouse, veery, white-breasted nuthatch, white-throated sparrow, yellow warbler
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Sunday, April 24th, 2011
 American kestrel. Yesterday’s rain and wind must’ve carried some of them here. This sunny humid morning found them up and about, getting to know—or re-know—the woods and fields and hillsides. They arrived into a landscape of green things barely growing—but soon to be quickening toward lushness and ripeness. I can imagine early humans—at this latitude, say—worrying as mud season dragged along whether the time of growth would truly come again. We live with the faith that it will.
 Song sparrow, Beech Nut (Beech Hill, Rockport, 24 April 2011). So it’s kind of fitting that a day like this would fall on Easter Sunday. I don’t know about any kind of divine miracle of rebirth—heck, it’s all a miracle to me.
Jack and I gathered ourselves fairly early to get out to Beech Hill, to see what was shaking up there. While warming a quick mug of coffee, I saw out the window a little flock of waxwings sitting in the still-bare crown of a maple overhanging the parking lot. Crows about. A house finch singing. En route to the hill, I saw a turkey vulture float by. The morning had gone surprisingly mild by the time we started up the wooded trail.
Right away I heard them calling—a phoebe, the distinctive chip note of a white-throated sparrow (first-of-year bird), chickadees, crows, a robin. By the time we’d walked the first straight stretch along the sugarbush, I’d also heard a couple of singing towhees (“drink your teeaaa!”), a singing hermit thrush, the cries of herring gulls. As we snaked along the first curves, I spotted a large hawk flying through the trees. It perched fairly close for just a second then flew off to a more distant perch hidden by trees. I suppose it could’ve been a cooper’s hawk, but it seemed larger—and it was near where I’d heard the red-shouldered a few days ago. I’m going to call it a red-shouldered. Maybe.
 Pileated woodpecker. Then a raven flew over, croaking. I heard song sparrows, more chickadees. The hazy sun warmed the upper eastern trail; soon I had sweat under my hatband, and Jack had begun to pant. At the upper fields, I heard more song sparrows and more towhees—at least a half dozen towhees, all told, each of them singing. Saw a solitary kestrel perched atop a distant tree.
No one else at the summit by the time we reached Beech Nut—but a kestrel (the same bird?) was hovering over the western field not far away. Despite its rapid wingbeats, I managed to grab a few photos.
Continuing down the open trail, I had to contend with a western breeze rushing in my ears, but still I made out the voices of a goldfinch and, somewhere down the southern slope, a tree swallow (first-of-year bird). Also in that direction, I heard a flicker and a jay—and then, carried by the wind, the high trill of a savannah sparrow. First singing savannah of the season.
But even more exciting was the song of a field sparrow that suddenly erupted from down toward the road. Then another. Dueling field sparrows. About that time, a little family was hiking up with a kite, and I stopped to point out one of the singing birds. Near the gate, I met another friendly group with a (leashed) dog—and then heard a (first-of-year) purple finch. A titmouse was also singing from somewhere across the road. Twenty species already.
 White-breasted nuthatch. I hadn’t seen or heard anything new by the time we’d come back up and over, but a pair of kestrels were hunting down the open eastern hillside. Song sparrows still. Oddly, though, the towhees had stopped singing as we made our way back down. Just after we passed the muddiest part of the lower wooded trail, we met a pair of woodland runners racing up. Shorts and T-shirts and (I think) those funny-looking shoes with toes in them. “This is a lot different from running on pavement,” I overheard the woman say.
As we passed the vernal pool, I looked over and saw a male mallard just sitting there. That was a surprise.
Twenty-one species on Beech Hill this morning.
Within a couple hours—although the temperature remained at least 60 (F)—the sky had gone mostly overcast as I took off on a bicycle ride. Which itself proved fruitful: the cry of an osprey (in town), rock pigeons (the business block), a singing cowbird (coming back up Route 1), a cormorant (flying over). At the top of one hill, in the distance to my left, I saw a large, slow-flying bird that at first I took for a great blue heron until I noticed it being harassed by a crow. The crow looked tiny compared to the bird, which could only have been a bald eagle.
 Mallard at the vernal pool. Near Maine Sport, I heard a little commotion above the rush of traffic and looked up to see a pair of low-flying Canada geese. Soon after, across the Camden town line, I heard a (first-of-year) chipping sparrow.
Back home, the little nuthatch family was active. As I watched them I heard a cardinal calling from somewhere behind me. Then a big black bird flew up onto the trunk of one of the hillside oaks—a pileated woodpecker. I snuck in for my camera and crept back out to snap photos. At one point it paused, reared back, and let fly. Theirs is such a joyous call.
A little while ago, to a background of peepers, I was admiring the stars between a few small, faintly illuminated clouds when there came the sudden, sweet flight song of a woodcock.
The nest, the egg, rebirth. It’s all a miracle to me.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 8:45 a.m., I hiked all trails.
 Dripping stem. 1. Eastern phoebe
2. White-throated sparrow (voice)
3. American crow
4. Black-capped chickadee
5. American robin
6. Eastern towhee (voice)
7. Hermit thrush (voice)
8. Herring gull
9. Red-shouldered hawk (?)
10. Common raven
11. Song sparrow
12. American kestrel
13. American goldfinch (voice)
14. Tree swallow (voice)
15. Blue jay (voice)
16. Savannah sparrow (voice)
17. Northern flicker (voice)
18. Field sparrow
19. Purple finch (voice)
20. Tufted titmouse (voice)
21. Mallard
Elsewhere
22. Cedar waxwing
23. House finch
24. Turkey vulture
25. Osprey
26. Rock pigeon
27. Brown-headed cowbird
28. Double-crested cormorant
29. Bald eagle
30. Canada goose
31. Chipping sparrow
32. White-breasted nuthatch
33. Northern cardinal
34. Pileated woodpecker
35. American woodcock
Tags: American crow, American goldfinch, American kestrel, American robin, bald eagle, black-capped chickadee, blue jay, brown-headed cowbird, Canada goose, Cedar waxwing, chipping sparrow, common raven, double-crested cormorant, eastern phoebe, eastern towhee, field sparrow, hermit thrush, herring gull, house finch, mallard, northern cardinal, northern flicker, osprey, pileated woodpecker, purple finch, red-shouldered hawk, rock pigeon, savannah sparrow, song sparrow, tree swallow, tufted titmouse, turkey vulture, white-breasted nuthatch, white-throated sparrow
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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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