|
|
 |
|
|
Posts Tagged ‘white-breated nuthatch’
Friday, March 18th, 2011
 Mount Megunticook. I awoke this morning to the faint, swishy sounds of rain outside. But before very long the clouds moved away and the sun emerged and the damp pavement began to dry. And the wind began to blow.
And blow.
 The open trail. By early afternoon, the day had become bright and warm (nearly 60 degrees (F)). And despite the wind’s crescendo—it whirled leaves around, and sent paper litter flying along Route 1, and ruffled the feathers of the crows—I had a hankering to get back on my bicycle. But desk work on a Friday (i.e., the wish to finish up by the weekend) kept me inside until the sun began to sink. Still, through the day, I heard house finches outside. Heard the titmouse singing. Heard chickadees. A cardinal. And a goldfinch in full-out spring song.
Finally grabbed Jack and headed to Beech Hill.
The wind whipped and pushed and rocked the pickup. On our arrival, we saw two vehicles in the parking lot, whose icy snow had diminished noticeably from yesterday. In fact, water gurgled pretty swiftly across the trailhead through the copse of trees. Before very long, I heard the wind-swept queedle! of a blue jay.
Then I noticed a woman walking ahead of us, sidestepping the great swaths of mud up there. She appeared to be on her cell phone and leaning into the wind. Not until Jack and I got near and she turned around did I recognize her as my friend Liz. Jack was glad to see her, too, and we hiked the rest of the way together, copper-colored fields on either side.
 Spruce. The wind was coming from the northwest, from behind us, pushing us along. We met a woman hiking down. “Be careful, or your dog might blow away,” she said, or words to that effect. Great blue-white stripes of clouds filled the sky and collected in hazy masses along the northeast horizon over Mount Desert Island. Some of the other islands were sunlit, some in shade. We saw a good-sized flock of herring gulls swirling in the moving air out over the shore.
Droplets of water fell from the eaves of Beech Nut in crazy, curving trails, thanks to the wind. I’d guess it was blowing at close to thirty miles an hour. A colorful landscape—the sky above the inland hills and beyond the summit of Mount Megunticook, the coppery-bronze of the blueberry barrens and the vertical white stripes of birches—spread off to the west like an oil painting. The spruce grove seemed particularly green.
We descended into the maw of the wind. At one point, my hat blew off. We met a couple of young fellows coming up. They were wearing T-shirts.
Back at the parking lot, I heard chickadees. Then a white-breasted nuthatch. We watched the little birds for a moment before going our separate ways.
 Beech Nut. En route back home, again, I saw a mourning dove (again) on a utility line.
Tonight, no woodcocks yet, but I thought I heard a solitary spring peeper. The wind has subsided a little bit by now, and the cloud-cover has thickened—but it’s not thick enough to obscure a nearly full moon.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 5:30 p.m., I hiked the open trail.
1. Blue jay (voice)
2. Herring gull
3. Black-capped chickadee
4. White-breasted nuthatch
Elsewhere
5. American crow
6. Tufted titmouse
7. Northern cardinal
8. House finch
9. American goldfinch
10. Cedar waxwing
11. Mourning dove
 Northwest distance.
Tags: American crow, black-capped chickadee, blue jay, Cedar waxwing, herring gull, house finch, mourning dove, northern cardinal, tufted titmouse, white-breated nuthatch
Posted in Lists, Observations | No Comments »
Sunday, December 19th, 2010
 December sky. It was a sunny day, to start—perhaps with a bit of haze in the air. When I first stepped out, I heard the voices of a fair-sized flock of finches that settled in some trees across the road. I figured these for redpolls. Also some vocal house sparrows over there. And some crows about, as always.
 Oak. The day proceeded in sunny fashion until midday, when some clouds moved over. I spent much of it attending to errands. Then, at about two, Jack and I proceeded to Beech Hill.
Several cars in the parking lot, it being a relatively mild December Sunday. We met several humans and not a few dogs. The sky proved fairly dramatic as we hiked up. I heard chickadees and a solitary flicker. No wind to speak of. A half-firm, half-soft trail.
Coming back down, we met more humans and a big yellow dog named Gus. Back at the parking lot, I heard the voice of a white-breasted nuthatch.
Returning home, we swung by Chickawaukie Lake. The pond’s surface was nearly completely frozen over. I thought I might see coots or ducks or eagles. In fact, I saw a mere few mallards. No coots. But a total of four bald eagles standing on the ice away out in the middle, one standing solo, and three standing together—a solitary adult, and an adult with two juveniles. The adult appeared belligerent toward one of the two youngsters with it; the young bird first walked nervously away then (when I wasn’t looking) vanished entirely. I never did see it flying across the dimming December sky.
 Red squirrel. Tonight, a veil of clouds is passing over the nearly full moon. I watched the moon while thinking about a friend who passed away unexpectedly yesterday.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 2 p.m., I hiked the open trail.
1. Black-capped chickadee
2. Northern flicker
3. White-breasted nuthatch
Elsewhere
4. House sparrow
5. American crow
6. Common redpoll
7. House finch
8. Golden-crowned kinglet
9. Downy woodpecker
10. American crow
11. Herring gull
12. American robin
 Three eagles.
Tags: American crow, American robin, black-capped chickadee, common redpoll, downy woodpecker, golden-crowned kinglet, herring gull, house finch, house sparrow, northern flicker, white-breated nuthatch
Posted in Lists, Observations | No Comments »
Monday, May 24th, 2010
 Eastern towhee. Up late last night, to the hill somewhat late today: 7:15 a.m. Already you could tell it’d be a warm day.
Last night late, before hitting the sack, I stepped outside with Jack into a world of fog. Despite this morning’s bright sun, in the understory of the wooded trail droplets of water fell intermittently, surprisingly, and the grass and leaves were damp with dew.
 Chestnut-sided warbler (female, in afterglow). The usual warblers were singing—ovenbird, yellowthroat, chestnut-sided, redstart—as well as a couple red-eyed vireos, ever-present on the hill this time of year. I thought I caught the sound of an unfamiliar, high, sibilent warbler, but I couldn’t pick it out of the chorus. Ascending the upper wooded trail, I heard the faint sound of pixies in the undergrowth on either side of me. Some trick of woodland acoustics.
Coming around a curve in the trail, I spotted a flurry of activity in a bush directly in front of us. Right away I recognized a pair of mating of chestnut-sided warblers. The male flew away, the female stayed behind. I got a voyeur’s photo.
Catbird, titmouse, robin. The usual species, an unusual heat. A crow’s voice followed by a raven’s.
 Field sparrow. Once a resident species arrives, it sticks around—rose-breasted grosbeak, alder fly, great crested fly on the open trail, tanager and pewee in the deeper woods. But on our initial climb, upon emerging into the first grassy expanse, I saw a zip, a blur, a fast-flying tiny bird whipping over and just behind us. First-of-year hummingbird. It was somewhat of a relief.
I had another, quite similar hummingbird sighting coming down the main open trail. About the same time, I heard a laughing gull (my first on the hill) and saw a solitary herring gull fly over. The field sparrow continues to sing in its lone hardwood on the downslope. In the distant photo I took, it was eyeing me.
Returning by way of the lower wooded trail, I heard the hoarse voice of a tanager directly overhead. Got a crappy photo or two. Not long after, I heard the black-throated blue with the aberrant call. And a parula. And, oddly, our first black-throated green.
A random thought, perhaps, but at some point this year, I’d like to get a nice photo of a redstart.
This coming weekend—Memorial Day weekend—I’m headed to Monhegan for a couple days. I’m getting excited about the trip, a first in spring for me. I’m told I’ll see many birds. And thanks to my friend Mark, who lives on a many-acred farm, I’ve got a nice spot for Jack to stay while I’m away. Still, I’m gonna miss this guy.
 Scarlet tanager. Beech Hill List
Beginning at 7:15 a.m., I walked all trails.
1. Ovenbird (voice)
2. Common yellowthroat
3. Red-eyed vireo
4. Black-and-white warbler (voice)
5. Chestnut-sided warbler
6. Herring gull
7. Eastern towhee
8. Gray catbird
9. Tufted titmouse (voice)
10. American robin
11. American redstart (voice)
12. American crow (voice)
13. Common raven (voice)
14. Rose-breasted grosbeak (voice)
15. Alder flycatcher (voice)
16. Veery (voice)
17. Black-capped chickadee
18. White-throated sparrow (voice)
19. Nashville warbler
20. Field sparrow
21. Ruby-throated hummingbird
22. Eastern phoebe
23. Tree swallow (voice)
24. Laughing gull (voice)
25. Great crested flycatcher (voice)
26. Blue jay (voice)
27. Chipping sparrow (voice)
28. Pileated woodpecker (voice)
29. Yellow warbler (voice)
30. White-breasted nuthatch (voice)
31. Northern parula (voice)
32. Scarlet tanager
33. Black-throated blue warbler (voice)
34. Black-throated green warbler (voice)
Elsewhere
35. House sparrow
36. European starling
37. Osprey
38. Rock pigeon
 Fog offshore.
Tags: alder flycatcher, American crow, American redstart, American robin, black-and-white warbler, black-capped chickadee, black-throated blue warbler, black-throated green warbler, blue jay, chestnut-sided warbler, chipping sparrow, common raven, common yellowthroat, eastern phoebe, eastern towhee, European starling, field sparrow, gray catbird, great crested flycatcher, herring gull, house sparrow, laughing gull, Nashville warbler, northern parula, osprey, ovenbird, pileated woodpecker, red-eyed vireo, rock pigeon, rose-breasted grosbeak, ruby-throated hummingbird, scarlet tanager, tree swallow, tufted titmouse, veery, white-breated nuthatch, white-throated sparrow, yellow warbler
Posted in Lists, Observations | No Comments »
|
|
| |
| Bird Report is a (sometimes intermittent) record of the birds I encounter while hiking, see while driving, or spy outside my window. —Brian Willson |
|
|
