Beech Nut.
Several degrees cooler, several degrees brighter. When I awoke, sunlight streamed through the blinds a little earlier than yesterday, and the heat had come on even at its low setting. When I got a look through the windows, I saw a crow flapping along beneath a perfectly cloudless sky.
The hill.
When Jack and I first ventured out, a crow (the same bird?) was hollering from a perch high in the oak overhanging the parking lot where one crow or another often sits and caws. A fine layer of icy precipitation covered the deck like powdered sugar. I heard rain late last night; it must’ve become cold enough to turn.
We hung around indoors for much of the day, dog and I, napping and working, respectively. By mid-afternoon I felt creaky from sitting at my desk, and Jack stretched suggestively. Time for a hike.
Beech Hill today. As we turned onto Beech Hill Road, I spotted a solitary mourning dove flit-flitting its wings as it sailed over the road. No other vehicles in the parking lot. The wind had risen, and I dressed warmly.
Coming up was a breeze. No more slush, no mud—just hard earth or crusty snow. OK, granted, there were a few slick, icy places, but I watched my step. It occurred to me that as a young man I rarely worried about slipping or falling, but now that I’ve got some years behind me, the prospect of a slip hovers naggingly in the back of my mind. Never mind that I’m in pretty good shape for my age. Agile enough, with good legs (from all my bike riding). It must be wisdom borne of experience. Or something. Plus, both my parents fell soon before they died. I do tend to pay more attention to my footing in the shower.
Footprints.
(Speaking of footing, we passed a place on the trail where footprints remained in white relief against the dark earth. An oddity of freeze and thaw, wind and stillness. I took a couple photos.)
No hawks, though I looked for ’em. No crows or chickadees calling. No flicker. No kinglet or creeper. Just a flood of sunlight and a wild blue sky—interrupted only distantly by those kinds of winter clouds that march along out over the ocean. Long icicles hung from the roof of Beech Nut. I put up my hood against the wind.
Coming down, we met a friendly woman and child ascending. Everybody seems drawn to Jack, it seems—and are nice enough to me, at least, since after all we’re leashed together.
Plenty of gulls hanging out down in Clam Cove, I noticed as we coasted down Powerhouse Hill. Funny to realize, in retrospect, that I only have three bird species on my list this sunny day.
Addendum: Tonight’s is by far the starriest sky of the year.
Beech Hill List
1. Mourning dove
Elsewhere
2. American crow
3. Herring gull
Arch.
Tags: American crow, herring gull, mourning dove
