Two islands.
Up early. Overcast. Cool. Slight breeze. Reheated a cup of yesterday’s coffee, poured it into a travel mug, put the leash on the dog, headed for Beech Hill.
Chestnut-sided warbler.
In case you’ve been wondering, I don’t write down the birds I hear and see. I’ve got a system. As soon as I get out of the pickup, I listen for birdsong—and I hear it. This morning, simultaneously, I heard the voices of an ovenbird (ever-present on the hill in spring), a robin, and a black-throated green warbler. Within a few seconds, I heard the passionate fee-bee of a chickadee. Here’s what I do in my head:
“One, ovenbird. Two, robin. Three, black-throated green. Four, chickadee.”
Then if there’s a lull—i.e., no new birds heard or seen for a while—I’ll keep repeating that last little clipped sentence to myself silently: Four, chickadee. I repeat it until I hear bird species number five.
“Five, yellowthroat.”
Mourning dove on Beech Hill trail.
I’ve used this system for a couple-three years, and it seems to work great. On my return home, I’ll sit and jot down the list, in order, as near as I can remember. As far as I know, I’ve never listed a bird I didn’t see or hear; however, I’ll occasionally recall a bird or two I somehow missed counting in situ. This morning, for instance, I came home thinking I’d counted twenty-six species—but when I talled ’em up, the total was twenty-seven.
Purple sandpipers.
I tend also to remember the count at certain mileposts. A memorable one this morning was: “Seven, blackpoll warbler.” A first-of-year bird, and one I’ve seen only a few times in my life. And I nearly always remember the count when we reach the summit, Jack and I. Today, I’d only reached sixteen when we arrived at Beech Nut—I’ve counted twice as many at that stage—but I heard or saw quite a few birds beyond that point.
Not only did we see and hear birds: coming up the upper wooded trail, emerging from a tree-cloaked section of trail, a sudden boom erupted from the popple to our right—and we stood and watched as two big white-tailed deer dashed off ahead of us through the greening woodland. After they’d disappeared, Jack turned and looked at me with a transparent expression.
“Did you see that?” he asked.
“Deer,” I said.
“So, do we chase ’em?”
“Naw.”
The weather was odd. As we set out, a ripply gray blanket covered the sky overhead and to the west of us, while a cantaloupe-colored field spread across the eastern horizon, above the bay. But by the time we were returning via the lower wooded trail, a bright sun had come out, and I saw few clouds at all up beyond the branches of the hardwoods. The clouds had simply, suddenly burned away. But that, too, was temporary: by early afternoon, the day seemed gray again. Then bright again come late-afternoon. Fickle, the weather this day.
Common eider.
At one point on the hill, a chestnut-sided warbler flitted so near that I had trouble focusing. It was backlit anyway. Not a great photo. Coming down and around the open trail, dog and I noticed a mourning dove walking down the hill in front of us. It continued that way for 40 or 50 yards.
As we headed back across the parking lot to the pickup, I heard the jeers of a blue jay. “Twenty-six, jay,” I said to myself. Turned out it was species number twenty-seven.
This evening, we walked the Rockland breakwater. One notable sighting there: a tree swallow, soaring in the breeze only a few feet above us as we approached the first granite stones. I turned on my camera in hopes of getting a photo of it in flight, but I managed only a shot of it perched oddly on the breakwater itself. Soon after, it veered over to the little beach below and pecked around a bit. I figured it must’ve been gathering nesting materials.
Also saw a laughing gull, a pair of black guillemots in flight, and—lo—purple sandpipers. Seems those little fellas should be back in the Arctic by now.
(Still no hummingbirds today. I’m starting to worry a little.)
Tree swallow.
Beech Hill List
At 6:15 a.m., I walked all trails.
1. Ovenbird
2. American robin
3. Black-throated green warbler
4. Black-capped chickadee
5. Common yellowthroat
6. Tufted titmouse
7. Blackpoll warbler*
8. American crow
9. American goldfinch
10. Chestnut-sided warbler
11. Eastern towhee
12. Mourning dove
13. Nashville warbler
14. American redstart
15. Field sparrow
16. Tree swallow
17. Savannah sparrow
18. Song sparrow
19. Double-crested cormorant
20. American kestrel
22. White-throated sparrow
23. Chipping sparrow
24. Yellow warbler
25. Black-and-white warbler
26. Gray catbird
27. Blue jay
Elsewhere
28. House finch
29. Northern cardinal
30. Herring gull
31. Rock pigeon
32. Great black-backed gull
33. Laughing gull
34. Common eider
35. Purple sandpiper
36. Black guillemot
Penobscot Bay.
Tags: American crow, American goldfinch, American kestrel, American redstart, American robin, black guillemot, black-capped chickadee, black-throated green warbler, blackpoll warbler, Chesnut-sided warbler, common eider, common yellowthroat, double-crested cormorant, eastern towhee, field sparrow, herring gull, house finch, laughing gull, mourning dove, Nashville warbler, northern cardinal, ovenbird, purple sandpiper, rock pigeon, savannah sparrow, song sparrow, tree swallow, tufted titmouse
