Purple finch.
Today had a hazy cast to it. I heard house finches out there, and the notes of a cardinal. I saw mostly cloudy skies—but the sun poked through a time or two. The temperature reached about 80 degrees (F), I bet, and I might’ve had a nice bike ride, but I was writing and got into the groove. However, I yanked myself out of the groove in late afternoon to take Jack to Beech Hill.
Garden cart.
The sky had gone completely cloudy by then, and a lively wind had risen. You could feel it in the air—the promise of some kind of storm. Could yesterday’s bluster have foretold this promise? Can you detect signs of coming weather? Or are modern forecasts simply projections based on the eyes of satellites? Why do hurricanes form in tropical oceans? Some combination of season and warm fronts and ocean currents, sure—but why do those things happen? Can it all be traced back to the tilt of the planet? Without its tilt, without our seasons, would life have sprung forth on earth in the first place?
These are a few of the crazy questions I found flitting about in my head on our invigorating ascent up the unsettled hill.
Also, of course, the birds. Right away I heard chickadees, waxwings, and goldfinches. I thought I might’ve seen warblers hanging around with the chickadees, but I couldn’t be sure. I did hear crows—and watched several do a sort of crazy aerial dance just at treetop-level down the southern slope. I wonder what that was all about? Something to do with the promise of some kind of storm?
Heard a towhee and a catbird amid the tangles over where the blackberries grow. Ate a couple dozen blackberries, a half-dozen blueberries. Wondered why the catbirds are so quiet these days, and the blueberries so ripe. So many possible reasons.
Birch.
In fact (I thought during our return hike), when tracing back the reasons for things, wouldn’t you always end up at the very beginning? I.e., why did the universe form in the first place? It’s fun to observe and calculate and declare with certainty the “why” of things. But really, seems to me, it’s just so much speculation.
We met a few humans and dogs on the trail, among them a runner coming up the hill. Getting out in the air before the the approach of dusk and weather. Nearing the parking lot again, while looking for chickadees, I happened to spot a quiet bird perched high in a hardwood. Looked like a purple finch, to me, but I couldn’t say for sure until it suddenly dipped down and landed in a bush not far away. A finch, all right. A comely female.
It took a couple hours, but as darkness fell I saw lightning in the southern sky, and soon after I heard thunder. And soon after that, it rained for a spell. Not a huge storm, but a refreshing one. Now, in its wet wake, I hear crickets chirping out there as if nothing had happened. Or are they chirping so brightly exactly because of the rain? Why are they chirping, exactly? Just now? Tonight?
Know what? I’m not sure I even want to know.
Beech Hill List
Beginning at 4:30 p.m., I hiked the open trail.
1. Black-capped chickadee
2. Cedar waxwing (voice)
3. American goldfinch (voice)
4. American crow
5. Eastern towhee (voice)
6. Gray catbird (voice)
7. Song sparrow
8. Purple finch
Elsewhere
9. House sparrow
10. Northern cardinal
11. Herring gull
12. Mourning dove
Tags: American crow, American goldfinch, black-capped chickadee, Cedar waxwing, eastern towhee, gray catbird, herring gull, house sparrow, mourning dove, northern cardinal, purple finch, song sparrow
