Alder flycatcher.
On a summer night at the 44th parallel, bats fly, fireflies flash their quiet lights, and a cool breeze rustles the thick foliage of the hardwoods. On a summer day at the 44th parallel, the birds don’t sing so much as they used to—or they change their songs. Far along with their nesting obligations, they’re wary, they lay low, they engage in instinctive deception. You might hear a plain chip! from the undergrowth, and that’s about it.
Song sparrow.
But if you pay attention and tune your ear, you can ID ’em anyway.
Today—well, today was another lovely one. Blue sky, light wind, warm but not too warm. I worked steadily to finish a monthly task, finished it, then jumped on my bicycle for my usual ride. Didn’t hear as many roadside species as usual. Did notice several typical town birds (starling, house sparrow, gull). Did hear laughing gulls crying overhead at one point. Cruised easily past congested summer traffic on Route 1. Worked up a nice sweat.
On our evening Beech Hill hike, Jack and I got pestered by deer flies. Two or three circled my head pretty much constantly, although none managed to light and bite. Vireos were calling—they can’t not, it seems. Not far from the parking lot I heard a repeated chip note that I recognized as belonging to a phoebe. (I know this chiefly because of listening to that particular chip day after day out back of my place a few weeks ago.) Singing were towhees, veeries, and yellowthroats. Not singing were the pair of mourning doves that we flushed coming up the trail. (In fact, they flew without their typical wing-whistling. Weird.) Not singing were chickadees, or yellow warblers, or—oddly—ovenbirds. I heard no waxwings, either.
Savannah sparrow.
But I did hear the soft peep! of an alder flycatcher up at the edge of the open fields. This is one chip note I’ve come to know just this year. Over the past week or so, I’ve heard it a couple times—and fearlessly listed the bird—but found myself second-guessing a bit afterward. Today, however, after first hearing its peep! I actually saw the bird. An alder flycatcher, sure enough. My guess is it had a nest nearby and is talking to the nestlings, much as a phoebe will do.
Song and savannah sparrows were singing at the summit. I chatted for a minute with a lady painting the matchless view of the bay. I mentioned I keep track of the birds up there and had at that point listed a dozen species. Told her I’d likely have close to twenty by the time dog and I returned.
I was wrong. I heard only two other birds on the way back down: field sparrow and robin. No hermit thrush. No redstart or black-throated green. No ovenbird.
Oh, they’re there all right. They’re just laying low.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 5:45 p.m., I hiked the wooded trails.
1. Red-eyed vireo (voice)
2. Eastern phoebe
3. Chestnut-sided warbler (voice)
4. Mourning dove
5. Eastern towhee
6. Veery (voice)
7. Common yellowthroat (voice)
8. Gray catbird
9. American crow (voice)
10. Alder flycatcher
11. Song sparrow
12. Savannah sparrow
13. Field sparrow (voice)
14. American robin (voice)
Elsewhere
15. Northern cardinal
16. House finch
17. House sparrow
18. Herring gull
19. European starling
20. Laughing gull
Wood lily.
Tags: alder flycatcher, American crow, American robin, chestnut-sided warbler, common yellowthroat, eastern phoebe, eastern towhee, European starling, field sparrow, gray catbird, herring gull, house finch, house sparrow, laughing gull, mourning dove, northern cardinal, red-eyed vireo, savannah sparrow, song sparrow, veery
