Red-tailed hawk (juvenile).
“Brilliant!” say the Brits. And today was all that—in more than one way. The sun and clouds played bright games in the sky, wind gusts sent fallen leaves cartwheeling, and dog and I had a great midday hike on the hill.
Southern distance.
We arrived just past noon. Heard a chickadee right away. Passed Joe and the tractor guy working on equipment—and right away spotted a hawk. It was hovering above the grassy slope, flapping its large wings in place, was clearly a buteo of some kind. I tried for photos, but it veered quickly away. So we continued briskly up the steep part of the trail. With an eye out for the hawk, I admired the brilliant sky.
Over the rise, I spied the distant ribbon of the Gulf of Maine off to the south, glowing like a burning strip of phosphorus. Nearer, Chickawaukie Lake was on fire also, and above them both were dark-and-light, sun-limned clouds. No sign of the hawk, but I heard the voice of a crow.
Then coming around a curve in the trail, a solitary sparrow jumped up into some brush. For some reason I lifted my binoculars instead of my camera, and got a good look at what I first thought, puzzled, to be a chippy but soon realized was an American tree sparrow. It had an especially deep, rich rufous cap. (Later, since this was the first of the species I’d seen on the hill, I looked it up on the Cornell Ornithology website and found out that a tree sparrow “seems to prefer to look for predators out of its left eye.” Weird.) Before I could even think about a photo, it vanished in a little trailside thicket.
Red-tailed hawk (juvenile).
Not too windy, but noticeably colder than yesterday. The dramatic view from the summit, always inspiring, seemed particular so.
As Jack and I hurried back down, a big hawk suddenly approached low above the slope to our left. It looked to be the same bird. I managed to get a series of quick photos of its underside as it veered and hovered and looped above us. A young red-tail, mottled belly, faintly striped tail fan. Then it turned away and headed off to the southwest.
Not a minute later, I spotted a distant hawk screaming across the sky, left-to-right. Through my binoculars it sure looked like the same young bird. A couple minutes after that, it was hovering directly overhead again, so I grabbed several more photos.
On our subsequent descent, I heard the pips of a small flock of larks or finches—same dilemma as the other day—coming from somewhere up over the northern fields. No flicker today for the first time in a while.
Later, in town, I found myself looking for gulls and finding none. Strange. I finally spotted a couple herring gulls around McDonald’s. At the post office, the small collection of resident starlings, young and adult, chattered and squeaked in the tip of a bare-limbed tree. Back home, I heard a kinglet calling from up the hill.
Beech Nut.
Tonight the temperature dipped to freezing. I heard it in the crack of the wooden steps while taking Jack out. I saw it in the tiny star-sparkles on the still green front lawn. I felt it in my inhalations. Soon I suppose snowflakes will be flying.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 12:15 p.m., I hiked the open trail.
1. Black-capped chickadee (voice)
2. Red-tailed hawk (juvenile)
3. American crow (voice)
4. American tree sparrow
5. Unidentified passerine (voice)
Elsewhere
6. House sparrow
7. Herring gull
8. European starling
9. Golden-crowned kinglet
The bay.
Tags: American crow, American tree sparrow, black-capped chickadee, European starling, golden-crowned kinglet, herring gull, house sparrow, red-tailed hawk, unidentified passering
