Black-capped chickadee.
A brilliant sun this morning. Crows dipping and dodging, hunting and cawing, fulfilling their strong, genetic destinies. (I love those big black birds.) Also the usual house finch. Chickadees. Gulls flying over.
The day warmed. A bit of a southerly breeze. By early afternoon, I knew I’d be going out cycling.
Black-capped chickadee.
Which I did. And the way north was swift and thrilling; and the way south took a little effort. Gulls about. Rock pigeons in town. It’s crazy how one day there’s still snow on the ground, and the next the grass is deep green and growing, and the forsythia’s in bloom. (In fact, I noticed the forsythia bustin’ out yesterday but forgot to mention it.)
Got out with Jack at the end of the day. Oddly, at 5:30 p.m., the parking lot serving the wooded Beech Hill trailhead was full of vehicles—most with people just sitting in them, and a couple of guys out chatting. I chose one of two available parking slots and pulled in. Still a clear skuy, but the warmth of midday had lessened some, and a pretty good wind had picked up. Good thing I’d worn a hooded sweatshirt.
The usual birds on the lower trail—herring gulls’ voices, a few chickadees, the caws of a crow. I heard robins singing right away and soon saw a secretive hermit thrush flitting about in the some brush. The landscape remains bare and brown, with only a few tiny buds on twigs to hint at the spring explosion to come.
Not very far along the trail I heard a loud deep cry, like a throaty cluck, or one note of a cuckoo’s call. We stopped. I was about to turn back and follow the sound when I heard it again and realized that whatever bird was responsible for the sound had been flying overhead. I scanned the skies but saw nothing. I couldn’t imagine what it might be. Perhaps a raven—they make really crazy sounds. I’ll never know.
American robin.
About half way up, I saw a silent brown bird zip across the trail, but I didn’t get a good look at it. Another thrush? some kind of sparrow? The natural world is full of puzzles and mysteries.
Farther on, another nondescript bird crossed our paths. We stopped again. Saw it flitting in the undergrowth but couldn’t get a fix on it. (Many sightings are maddening like that.) Then we met a group of people hiking down—a friendly bunch, with a friendly dog on a leash. Nice to know that at least one of the vehicles parked at the lot had carried actual hikers.
At the clearing place, the first glimpse of fields, yet another brown bird flew by. But this time I got a good look at it: a phoebe. It perched on a long stem of grass, diving after insects.
We turned toward the summit, and I heard a woodpecker drumming. But no way can I tell a woodpecker’s species from its drumming. A hairy? A downy? The dead snag it’d settled on carried sound well—it had to be a couple hundred yards away. Never did spot the bird, though. It shall remain incognito.
White-breasted nuthatch.
As we reached the top of the hill, I heard the voice of a song sparrow, and the phoebe at Beech Nut was fluttering around up there. Some kind of fly hatch had happened, I noticed, which got me excited for warblers. Speaking of which, suddenly I heard a loud chip! coming from the little wood near the top, and I actually caught sight of its source—but it didn’t look like a warbler, to me. At least not in the brief peek I got before it flew away. A dark bird, larger than most warblers. A yellow-rump? I don’t think so. But who knows?
No harrier on the hill. No hawk of any kind. I did see a couple herring gulls sailing around out toward the blue bay.
Returning down the lower trail, I kept thinking I heard bird calls. One sounded like a nuthatch. (Or maybe not.) One might’ve been a turkey or grouse. (Can’t confirm it.) But then I did hear the clear voice of a hairy woodpecker—and even saw the bird, a vocal one, dashing from tree to tree. It was headed south, up the slope toward the sun. Can’t say as I’d really blame it.
Nothing much else to report up there. Except there were only two vehicles in the lot when we returned. Each with a driver just sitting inside.
On our way home I saw a mourning dove on a utility line. Then, above the deck out back, I watched for a while as the resident nuthatches kept up their sweet nesting displays. Also heard a house sparrow and a cardinal. And watched a couple crows flap secretively away to roost.
Beech Nut.
A starry night again.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 5:30 p.m., I hiked the wooded trails.
1. Herring gull
2. Black-capped chickadee
3. American crow (voice)
4. American robin
5. Hermit thrush
6. Eastern phoebe
7. Song sparrow (voice)
8. Hairy woodpecker
Elsewhere
9. House finch
10. Rock pigeon
11. Mourning dove
12. White-breasted nuthatch
13. House sparrow
14. Northern cardinal
Tags: American crow, American robin, black-capped chickadee, eastern phoebe, hairy woodpecker, hermit thrush, herring gull, house finch, mourning dove, northern cardinal, rock pigeon, song sparrow, white-breasted nuthatch
