Northern flicker.
A calmish, warmish morning with a hazy sun. I kind of slept in, but before rolling out of bed I heard robins, finches, and a cardinal singing. Decided Jack and I should take our hike early for a change—considering we’ll be doing that a lot in the coming months. Within 15 minutes of rising, I was letting dog jump into my pickup.
Brown-headed cowbird.
And then I heard a cowbird. Looked up to see a pair of them in the upper branches of a maple overlooking the parking lot. I have mixed feelings about cowbirds—it’s a parasitic species that rolls eggs out of other birds nests and deposits its own there, letting a (say) a tiny wood warbler feed its huge plaintive young instead. Seems crass and lazy. But I figure Nature has her reasons.
As I watched the cowbirds, a great blue heron flew over in the sky beyond them, headed from its island roost to some inland waterway.
Arrived at the wooded Beech Hill trailhead to find an empty car in the parking lot. Right away I heard crows shouting at each other and a goldfinch blathering on about something. We started briskly off. Heard chickadees, a distant flicker, robins calling from the trees, a song sparrow. Rounding the curve before the little footbridge, I heard gulls from away the eastern distance and nuthatches calling from the nearer trees. Also a singing cardinal. Seemed like it might be a birdy morning.
Still a little snow about in the shadows, but not much. About half-way along the upper trail, we surprised a pair of flickers, which darted away into some trees. (One stuck around long enough for a photo.) Then we crept quietly through the brushy fox sparrow area—but saw none, heard none. Perhaps they’ve finally moved along. Plenty of resident song sparrows, though. And I heard the voices of a couple of pileated woodpeckers rattling off in the forest somewhere.
Northern harrier.
Emerging into the upper fields, I stood to snap a photo of Beech Nut on the summit and noticed a harrier up there. It was winging away from us when I spotted it—but then it veered and dipped down and landed near the open trail. And quickly took wing again. I couldn’t tell if it had anything in its talons.
Met a couple women and a (leashed) dog at the summit. I suggested they go ahead on down, because we were liable to dilly-dally. Which we did. It’s hard not to stop to soak it up—such a warming, bare but energy-filled spring landscape, just weeks (days?) away from greening, with birdsong everywhere. Song sparrows, titmice, robins, goldfinches, crows—and a phoebe calling from down toward the road.
As we arrived on the other side of the hill, down at the Beech Hill Road parking lot, the air was full of the music (if you want to call it that) of nuthatches. Those crazy little birds nesting on their minds. A pair of mourning doves exploded from the trail in front of us. Heard the voices of jays.
American goldfinch.
With my toe I tapped the log at the edge of the parking lot, as always, and we started back. Phoebe, goldfinches, titmice. (In fact, this morning must be defined by titmice—many, many of them singing dueling spring songs all over the hill.) As we rounded the final curve before the summit, I saw a pair of crows flapping up into the little spruce grove, where they perched on some upper branches. And then I caught sight of the harrier—or some other harrier—sailing lazily up the eastern slope. The crows had their eye on him. The hawk turned and sailed away to the northeast. The crows cawed, then followed. I looked out over the hazy bay and saw a big bird in flight off that way. Through binoculars, I recognized it as a juvenile eagle.
Coming over the summit, as the crows flew noisily away, I saw a hawk circling high above—the harrier? It seemed to have a bright white rump, but its wings looked more accipiter-like. (I’m not great with hawks in flight.) The hawk circled and soared, never flapping, migrating away to the northwest.
The muddy lower wooded trail echoed with the resounding songs of titmice. (A few chickadees, too.) Heard a solitary peeper at the vernal pool. The morning had warmed such that I’d gone damp beneath my sweatshirt and Jack kept trying to lap up mudwater. We scooted back home to drink, shower, have breakfast.
Beech Nut.
The rest of my day I spent doing my tax return. (Enough about that.) And tonight, I heard three woodcocks calling, flying, displaying.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 8:30 a.m., I hiked all trails.
1. American crow
2. American goldfinch
3. Black-capped chickadee
4. Northern flicker
5. American robin (voice)
6. Song sparrow
7. Herring gull (voice)
8. White-breasted nuthatch (voice)
9. Tufted titmouse (voice)
10. Northern cardinal (voice)
11. Pileated woodpecker (voice)
12. Northern harrier
13. Eastern phoebe
14. Blue jay (voice)
15. Mourning dove
16. Bald eagle
Elsewhere
17. House finch
18. Brown-headed cowbird
19. Great blue heron
20. American woodcock
Tags: American crow, American goldfinch, American robin, American woodcock, bald eagle, black-capped chickadee, blue jay, brown-headed cowbird, eastern phoebe, great blue heron, herring gull, house finch, mourning dove, northern cardinal, northern flicker, northern harrier, pileated woodpecker, song sparrow, tufted titmouse, white-breasted nuthatch
