Cool and breezy and quiet on the trails with Jack this morning. Cloudless still, droughty still, and not as many birds as last year at this time (other, perhaps, than a whole bunch of House Finches). I did catch a glimpse of a vireo and heard the call of a hawk. Still, a lovely, not-too-hot hike.
Back at the house, meanwhile—like yesterday—things were hopping: many quail, a calling flicker, doves and sparrows and starlings. The highlight in afternoon: a female Bullock’s Oriole catching spiders in the roses.
Supposed to reach 100° (F) tomorrow.
Grandeur Peak Area List Beginning at 7:24 a.m. (8:24 MDT), I hiked a few hundred feet up a mountain.
Nice hike this early morning—even coolish, what with a partial overcast (and even some curtains of rain that I don’t believe ever hit drought-parched ground). The usual suspects, fourteen species in all.
Back at home, the quail were about, s they have been every recent day. California Quail were brought here back in the 1800s and have made themselves at home—to the point that they tend to hang out in the neighborhood, perhaps for the variety of fruit and other food, along with water. Yesterday, I spotted a teensy little baby quail hanging out with its mom. Sometimes the males will perch on the spherical top of the chainlink fence post and give their rather loud exotic call.
I never saw California Quail until I moved out here. Then again, I’ve never been to California.
Grandeur Peak Area List Beginning at 6:59 a.m. (7:59s MDT), I hiked a few hundred feet up a mountain.
I’d seen a few Blue-gray Gnatcatchers before moving to Utah—all during migration at Monhegan, I believe— but these feisty, entertaining little birds are common nesters where dog and I hike every morning. By now, I feel kinda like we’re pals.
This morning was mostly (mercifully) overcast and so not as unseasonably warm as in recent days. The gnatcatchers were as usual vocal and active, flitting from twig to twig, dive-bombing scrub-jays, warning Jack and me away from their nest deep in a scrub oak patch near the bluff. Their calls when we pass near are bright and varied and urgent. They flash the white feathers of their tails.
Last year we passed an active gnatcatcher nest every day where the trail passes through a shady tunnel of greenery. Over winter, the nest disintegrated—but I still look fondly at the little scrub oak crook where it sat and think of the tiny bird nestled there, warming the eggs and protecting the hatchlings.
I guess I kind of have a thing for gnatcatchers.
Grandeur Peak Area List Beginning at 6:55 a.m. (7:55 MDT), I hiked a few hundred feet up a mountain.
