Eastern Phoebe.
I found a BB on the Beech Hill trail this early morning. One of those newfangled plastic ones that I was unfamiliar with until I’d collected maybe two dozen a couple-three years ago from the same trail, left there by someone aiming at something, I presume. My initial hope, naturally, is that they weren’t aiming at birds—or any wildlife, really—but I suspect that’s too much to hope for. The BB I found today was bright green.
Fox Sparrow.
When I’m walking the trail with dog, just the two of us, all my senses (usually) focused outward, on the lookout (and listenout) for wild birds whose photos I might take, it’s a lot like hunting, I’ve often thought. The pastime involves stalking, keeping silent, creeping toward something that wants no part of you. The object of the pursuit might be different—capturing an image, a portrait, a memory, a sort of snippet of a bird’s soul, as opposed to its life and blood and body—but the motions are pretty much the same ones humans have used for millennia. So, I think, are the emotions: the dejection of missing a “sitting duck” target, the thrill of a rare capture. It’s something built into me, built into us, the BB gun person and me.
Once when I was a kid I shot a Red-Winged Blackbird out of the air with a friend’s BB rifle. The old kind, with steel alloy BBs. We were sitting in his treehouse. I hadn’t even aimed. I was horrified when the bird dropped, mid-flight, and flapped around on the grass a while before dying. The joy of a decent photo sure beats the guilt I felt that day.
Today’s photos weren’t all that great, but I did manage a confirmation shot of a fox sparrow, one of a pair I encountered perched high in a bare tree. They’re about a month later than a couple years ago, when a little cluster arrived in mid-March and hung around a while.
Again we came upon several woodpecker species, including a calling, drumming, fiery-crested sapsucker. That’s the first time I’d heard a sapsucker’s drum, in my recollection. It’s got a cool sort of syncopated beat.
Poplar catkins.
Twenty-seven species in all this morning—a frosty morning, but calm. The towhees are returning in numbers now and have—like the Savannah sparrows—begun to sing.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 7 a.m., I hiked all trails.
1. Eastern Phoebe*
2. Hermit Thrush
3. Northern Cardinal**
4. American Robin*
5. Mourning Dove
6. Black-capped Chickadee*
7. Brown-headed Cowbird
8. American Goldfinch (v)
9. American Crow*
10. Herring Gull*
11. Eastern Towhee
12. Song Sparrow*
13. Common Raven (v)
14. Northern Flicker (v)
15. White-throated Sparrow (v)
16, Blue Jay (v)
17. Pileated Woodpecker
18. Chipping Sparrow†
19. Red-winged Blackbird
20. White-breasted Nuthatch* (v)
21. Yellow-bellied Sapsucker
22. Hairy Woodpecker
23. Downy Woodpecker
24. Dark-eyed Junco
25. House Finch** (v)
26. Savannah Sparrow
27. Fox Sparrow
Elsewhere
28. Rock Pigeon
v = Voice only
*Also elsewhere
*Voice only elsewhere
†First-of-year bird
Tags: American crow, American goldfinch, American robin, black-capped chickadee, blue jay, brown-headed cowbird, chipping sparrow, common raven, dark-eyed junco, downy woodpecker, eastern phoebe, eastern towhee, fox sparrow, hairy woodpecker, hermit thrush, herring gull, house finch, mourning dove, northern cardinal, northern flicker, pileated woodpecker, red-winged blackbird, rock pigeon, savannah sparrow, song sparrow, white-breasted nuthatch, white-throated sparrow, yellow-bellied sapsucker
