Central Mass Bird Reports, 2005
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This is an archive of bird reports that give an extended narrative of a bird trip, or that give an extensive compilation of bird sightings. To contribute, you can email to rsquimby@wpi.edu.
I rummage through miscellaneous equipment scattered about the trunk of the car, extracting items best suited to the day�s endeavors. I amble around to its front, stooping downwards awkwardly as I place them squarely in the makeshift illumination provided by the headlights. I don protective hip boots, grunting as I coax them on. I raise myself slowly, relieved to step away from the glare of artificially generated light and into the salmon-tinged aquamarine sky blossoming over the landscape. I sense a warm day developing, one that will ease the discomfort of wading through the wetland�s murky, icy depths. I secure the car, instantly surrounded by a pervasive quiet, fostering a revitalizing attenuation of my senses, one that I will require to evade detection by waterfowl. Joints popping and cracking as I enter the trail, my pace quickens as my legs welcome the extended hike over the weathered asphalt�s fissured surface. Absorbed by the penetrating quiet, I part the dense foliage, ensconcing myself unobtrusively along the northern shore of Pottapaug Pond. Crisp white semicircles flicker intermittently upon the water. Golden maple leaves float upon the wind as I cautiously extend my scope. I discern bright yellow eyes and black necks nestled into white breasts. Roused from their torpor by my presence, they survey me warily and slowly paddle away. I glimpse their prominent tertials, applied with the delicacy of a calligrapher�s touch. The squat shapes intermingle, jockeying for better positions within this ideal feeding ground. Raising and lowering their russet bodies, the Hooded Mergansers engage in a subtle choreography known only to them, an extraordinary semaphore of rapidly extended and retracted crowns. I carefully part head-high grass, the rapidly rising sun guiding my steady footsteps through the marsh�s pungent, aromatic mud. A sharp, two-syllable vocalization banishes the morning�s silence, bringing me to a halt. At first dismissing the noise as having been generated by a poorly secured pack, I slow my pace, readjusting its myriad straps. I advance forward, confident I will not so easily betray my presence again. The sound repeats. I freeze, detecting a slight shift in its location. Plodding through the muck, I peer into the depths of the thick grass, seeking movement. A bright white circle abruptly appears, dashing out of view into the matted tangle ahead. A clear GET-IT reaches my ears. Creeping onwards, a mocking THAT-THAT-THAT punctuates the sloshing of my boots. While gazing at the jumble of marsh grass before me, a prominent, slightly decurved bill mated to a gray face sprints across my field of view. A hair�s breadth above the dank vegetation, black flanks barred with white dart across a tiny expanse of water. I am dismayed, but not disappointed. Like most observers, I was allowed only a moment�s glimpse of a Virginia Rail. Sequestered in its chosen domain of impenetrable reeds, a triumphant TOO-BAD TOO-BAD TOO-BAD meets my ears. I extract my boots from the mud�s unrelenting embrace, squishing a path onto marginally drier terrain. A soft tan belly richly streaked with chocolate bolts past, quickly dispelling my temporary disenchantment. Veering up into the clouds, bland face and bulging crop pivoting in momentary acknowledgement of my presence, the Merlin continues on its way. I bring binoculars to bear upon the murmuring, flustered brown forms scattering in its wake. A dense flock of Song Sparrows populates the branches of a stout willow sapling. The bulk of them forage eagerly, a hardy few standing guard, heads twitching constantly as they survey the entirety of their feeding area. Swamp Sparrows emerge, fluffing their feathers in the sun, regaining their composure. A snatch of song splashes against the madrigal of crystalline introductory notes streaming from the bolder members of the loose band of Song Sparrows. A lower burbling accompaniment to the Song Sparrows, its first phrase also consists of three syllables. They ripple outwards, ascend briefly, and quickly fall back to earth. A dim shape appears behind the Song Sparrows, and I spish eagerly, hoping it will stop to investigate the unexpected noise. The bird responds, nimbly jumping up to a better vantage point atop a sagging cluster of Joe Pye Weed. In clear sunlight, field marks merge to form a concrete image of a bird. Its overall grayish cast, the delicate streaking upon a pale breast, the barest hint of an eye ring, strong olive back and scapulars, and its agitated behavior draw my eyes towards the photograph of a Lincoln�s Sparrow contained in my field guide. The finch-like song sways me at last, continuing against the delightfully steady aural backdrop of Song Sparrows. A series of irregular white patches drifts upon the open water, craning forwards and backwards in irregular intervals. The gently bobbing procession forms a thread of white, pulsing forward like a wayward caterpillar suddenly seizing an opportunity to transport itself across some unanticipated expanse free of obstruction. Black heads merge into gray upper bodies, a stray speck of red appearing as a bill plunges into the water to feed. Shapes advance, their smooth outlines at the water�s surface broken as they forage by the appearance of ponderous green toes. As their silvery wake surges towards me, I shift my weight to maintain my view, mud noisily clenching my boots. The flock of American Coot surge aloft upon labored wingbeats, accompanied by the madcap pattering of their comically extended oversized feet upon the water�s surface.. A brown blob flinches, releasing its awkward hold upon the banks of the vast sinkhole. A pudgy black vertical stripe briefly glows in the sun and vanishes. Pale cinnamon feather tips glisten, a wary eye ruefully admitting detection as a compact head courses along the water�s surface. Diving noiselessly, the dark smudge periodically reappears, systematically feeding within a compact circle. Resurfacing once more, it strikes out in a new direction. I have underestimated the rate of travel of the unknown shape, and as dense tussocks of marsh grass suddenly move into view, it abruptly disappears within their depths. Off-white undertail coverts rearrange themselves at the edge of one of these miniature islands, an angular head reaching backwards to preen. Grooming concluded, the Pied-billed Grebe retracts its tail and plants its hindquarters firmly against the muck, now completely invisible. The grebe�s disappearance reinforces my suspicion that the flush of activity accompanying many birds� morning feeding forays has concluded. An extended interval of silence develops, and I rise to go, pondering whether to remain or seek out other viewing areas. A keening ER-EEE ends my ruminations. Transfixed by the outburst of sound, I press against the huge bank of grass to my left. An open body of water lies ahead, and I fear that advancing too quickly will flush any wildlife savoring its seclusion. I creep onward, obeying a sudden instinct to clap my hands. A staccato series of notes slides downward, a giggling taunt. Heartened that my ruse has elicited a response, I clap my hands again in quick succession, my ears met with a sharp KEEK! in response. I near the grass� edge and swivel around its boundary, my eyes met with the sight of a solid gray neck, black face, and a yellowish bill scurrying away. Resettling further along the water�s edge, the rich earth tones of the Sora Rail�s outline quickly dissolve against an identically colored background. Confident I am surveying a landscape only temporarily devoid of interesting subjects, I unpack a spartan folding chair. Resituated upon it, I resume viewing. Presently, lithe contours break the surface of the water beyond. Glistening flanks appear again, followed by broad, elongated tails. A pointed furry speck moves closer, twinkling wavelets rippling away from it. Unflinching eyes return my gaze, and are gone. The unfamiliar mammal is joined by a companion, and the pair gambols gaily across the water�s surface, rhythmically breaching and plunging. Their motion abruptly ceases, and the marsh waters reacquire a radiant gloss. Moments pass. Two tawny triangular heads appear, each with silvery chunks of fish wriggling in toothy jaws. Meal concluded, the River Otters depart, elastic undulations carrying them away. In my efforts to secure an unobtrusive view of the energetic otters, I retreated further into the soggy marsh grass. After consolidating gear and securing better footing, I decide to explore its depths further. I look skyward to gauge the time of day, eyes met by jet-black tails flitting haphazardly downwards. They dance over the tops of the weeds ahead, emitting a steady chant of SEE... SEE-me SEE-me SEE-me. Hovering on the rising wind, a single ink-black wedge bordered with ivory pumps energetically, suspended against the spotless light blue sky. Extended dark legs flushed with pink meet fawn-colored earth, followed by a beige breast flecked with brown. Its companions follow, alighting in the field�s sparse stubble, gleaming eyes and needle-sharp bills tilting into the breeze. The birds slowly fan out, profiles dropping as they become absorbed in their feeding. Harried by the erratic gusts, they periodically flutter aloft, double-note calls preceding their brief forays above ground. Scattered by a particularly powerful blast, the American Pipits disperse, nimbly taking wing as the wind reaches a crescendo. As I sit down once again, a sandpapery trill draws my attention. Surprise morphs into incredulity, flaring into my abdomen. Not wishing to dislodge the singer, I rise and gingerly step forward, ears brimming with anticipation. The song repeats, hoarse and mildly abrasive. I frantically scan the tangle before me, discerning a slender yellow leg clinging to the base of a patch of reeds. I glimpse an irregular movement, and a nondescript ball of chocolate fluff surreptitiously darts out of view. I arrive at a small break in the shadowy undergrowth, a disheveled ball of feathers the size of a cherry tomato turning to confront me. Freezing momentarily, it upbraids me with burry, dissonant, scornful chatter, concluding with a bristling TZUK! A mahogany crown contrasts sharply with a white throat glowing with agitation. An afterthought of a tail appears, rich chestnut and laddered with narrow black stripes. Fluttering into the shade, white flecks on a blackish-brown back appear in stark relief. Suddenly silent, the Marsh Wren is absorbed by the recesses of the cattails. I retrace my steps over the irregular hummocks of boggy terrain, longing to resituate myself in an environment allowing me to remain upright more easily. Reentering the coppery open fields, a strong breeze cools my brow, the unexpected gusts a soothing relief. Mammoth folds of vegetation ripple softly in the wind as the sun is engulfed by solemn steel-gray clouds. The landscape below is transformed into a shifting patchwork of ominous cloud shapes racing rapidly over the ground, punctuated by mirror-bright patches of open water. My boots disturb a pool of water. Startled at the unexpected noise, I pause. Astonished, I find myself standing in a pool of water nearly a yard across filled to the brim with crayfish! Under a sparkling sun, the puddle fairly teems with the doughty olive-gray crustaceans. One pugnaciously swipes at the toe of my boot as I carefully remove myself from their midst. I pause to scan the distant roadbed, and notice an energetic shape disturbing the highway�s earthen edge. A minute puff of dust scatters upon the wind. A sprightly tuft of feathers lands on a nearby clump of weeds, promptly returning to its point of origin. Faint auburn wing patches come into view in the scope. Evenly distributed streaks upon a buffy breast and a grayish upper mandible distinguish themselves. A striking white eye-ring pivots towards me. A bill opens, four leisurely notes drifting to my ears. Taking in the road�s steady procession of vehicles, the bird shrewdly waits for the short burst of traffic to abate. Hopping back to the edge of the roadway, it resumes its fitful ablutions. A well-defined back shrugs, and crisp stripes emerge. As the bird is brushed aside by an unexpected gust of wind, I make out an even white line outlining a notched tail. I fumble for my field guide, weighing possibilities. Comporting itself at last, the Vesper Sparrow darts to the edge of the sea of marsh grass. My eyes are met with the taut outlines of a fellow birder. We briefly chuckle at one another from our respective vantage points. Infuriatingly incoherent greetings are shouted. VESPER SPARROW!!!! WHA??? %&#@! VESPER SPARROW!!!! IT�S GONNA SNOW TOMORROW?!?!?! !@#&% VESPER SPARROW!!!! THERE�S A WHEELBARROW?!?!?!?! Ranks close at last. Intelligence is quietly exchanged. Vesper Sparrow. Wow. Ya. Eyes craving relief from scouring the mildly claustrophobic depths of the marsh, I transport myself to more uncluttered surroundings. The glassy expanse of the twin ponds is occasionally disturbed by random blotches of light-gray ripples generated by a mercurial breeze. I trace the shoreline of North Spectacle Pond with my scope, squat brown shapes evenly spaced along a lengthy portion. Two glistening lilac-colored dots appear, their respective wakes generating twin arrowheads of movement. As the female American Wigeon diligently raise and lower their bills from the water�s polished surface, the air is filled with the sound of whistling wings. Shimmering emerald green heads and elegantly pointed black tails adroitly touch down. A quartet of male American Wigeons joins the females, the birds refamiliarizing themselves with one another as they feed. A trio of American Black Ducks appears at the edge of the wigeons, chalk-white wing linings flashing in the sun as they alternately forage and preen. The water�s surface now churns with activity as the mixed flock forages with a steady rhythm. My interest in waterfowl now fully engaged, I direct my attention to South Spectacle Pond, hoping to discover other waterfowl flying overhead from the nearby marsh adjoining Bassett Pond. I squint into the windswept curtain of diaphanous clouds high overhead. A boisterous Common Raven careens along their border, emphatic GONK! calls dropping like sonic bombshells from the heavens. As its burly shape disappears below the western horizon, elongated wings pierce the lower edge of a stray cloud. Graceful gray outstretched necks materialize, highlighted by gleaming brushstrokes of white. Pinned against the cloud�s border, five sets of iridescent bottle-green speculae appear, tilting further upwards against the sky. Additional silhouettes follow. The Northern Pintails loop towards me, throwing caution to the winds in characteristic fashion. Three sharply mottled backs and distinct nutmeg heads burst into view, announcing the appearance of three females, their earth-brown speculae glinting in the sun. The razor-sharp outlines of their flying wedge disintegrate. They scatter wildly, zig�zagging and wobbling in a chaotic blur, a prolonged groan of air pulsing through outstretched wings as they alight, foaming water streaking behind them. The birds rearrange their feathers with almost magisterial flourishs, sleek contours quickly emerging from the temporary disarray of landing. Their magnificently tapered tails twitch once more, aristocratic profiles quickly becoming absorbed into the ranks of the other ducks. Encouraged by the number of new arrivals, I glass the horizon. I continue to make use of the enormous cloud bank to the southwest, its radiant white color allowing me to pick out birds at a great distance. A wandering flock of crows fills the air with a penetrating din, their charcoal mass drifting lazily by. I scan the area in front of them to see if a raptor has incurred their wrath. Detecting no genuine alarm, I shift my attention elsewhere. A flurry of blue-gray wings angles towards me. I readjust my focus, realizing this new movement is closer than I had realized. Expecting a robust flock of Rock Pigeons to fill my scope, I am delighted to discover more waterfowl headed towards me. They weave through the sky in a series of fitful twists and turns, intermittently regrouping into a compressed flock. Overhead at last, sides stippled with brown come into view. Extensive slate�blue wing coverts follow. Jumbled shapes touch down, my gaze pursuing them across the pond�s surface. Blue-winged Teal have arrived, brightening the water�s surface with their bravura white facial crescents. As if drawn by an unseen hand, they drift towards the other ducks, bodies scarcely disturbing the water�s surface. They halt at the outskirts of the mixed flock, content in their own company. Their bills dip demurely into the water�s surface, a stark contrast to the voracious abandon with which the other ducks feed. Lower back throbbing from hunching over my tripod, I stand and stretch, stinging sweat dripping into my eyes. I extract a bottle from my backpack. An inviting surge of carbonation rapidly exits as I twist the cap and take a welcome swallow. Refreshed, I resume viewing. As the birds satisfy their appetites, their energetic multitude thins gradually, quick vivid successions of clamoring wings departing with a sudden urgency. Eager to discover their next destination, I exit as well. As I slake my thirst, the ponds are silent once more. American Black Duck 2 American Coot 1 American Crow 52 American Goldfinch 11 American Pipit 5 American Robin 45 American Wigeon 6 Bald Eagle 1 Belted Kingfisher 1 Black-capped Chickadee 4 Blue Jay 13 Blue-winged Teal 18 Bobolink 3 Brown Creeper 1 Canada Goose 28 Chipping Sparrow 6 Chris Buelow (hardwickum ornithologicus omniscientii maximae) 1 Common Flicker 2 Common Merganser 6 Common Raven 1 Dark-eyed Junco 5 Dickcissel 1 Double-crested Cormorant 5 Downy Woodpecker 1 Eastern Bluebird 3 Field Sparrow 1 Golden-crowned Kinglet 5 Green-winged Teal 8 Hairy Woodpecker 1 Hermit Thrush 1 Herring Gull 3 Hooded Merganser 14 Killdeer 2 Lincoln's Sparrow 1 Mallard 7 MARSH WREN 1 Merlin 1 Mourning Dove 16 Northern Cardinal 3 Northern Harrier 1 Northern Pintail 8 Pied-billed Grebe 1 Pine Warbler 6 Purple Finch 1 Red-bellied Woodpecker 1 Red-tailed Hawk 1 Red-winged Blackbird 23 Ring-billed Gull 2 Ring-necked Duck 14 Ruby-crowned Kinglet 3 Savannah Sparrow 9 Semipalmated Plover 1 Snow Bunting 1 Song Sparrow 25 Sora Rail 1 Swamp Sparrow 18 Tufted Titmouse 9 VESPER SPARROW 1 Virginia Rail 1 White-breasted Nuthatch 3 White-throated Sparrow 5 Wild Turkey 13 Winter Wren 1 Wood Duck 11 Yellow-bellied Sapsucker 1 Yellow-rumped Warbler 11(report from Chris Ellison).
Walking slowly along the shoulder of Route 122, I gaze upwards at a breathtaking ribbon of constellations burnished to a lustrous sheen. An incremental increase in brightness pervades my vision. The subtle shift in color from black to mauve dims the shimmer of starlight only marginally. Cygnus and Lacerta are framed in a stretch of lavender sky compressed into a glittering serpentine shape by the roadbed's contours and the mature forest wedged against the highway. An immense shape darts into the interior of a red pine. A branch tip dips almost imperceptibly downwards. Scanning the tips of the tree's branches, two small tufts stand out in sharp contrast to the rest of the tree's jagged silhouette. A massive head furtively shifts position, revealing a Great Horned Owl returning from an unsuccessful hunt. The gathering light entices me into the forest interior, and I sprint across the road, quickly embraced by the moist folds of the emerald boughs. Squatting at the edge of the embankment, a swelling tide of bird song envelopes me. As I squint upwards into the dew-saturated branches, my ears are peppered with mild chatterings. A cluster of petite gray forms careen into the graceful curves of the overhanging branches, scattering countless silvery droplets of dew. Quickly resettling, they begin preening energetically, luxuriating in the copious moisture. Directing my gaze to the portions of several different tree branches where they join directly to tree trunks reveals many avian shapes. Having strategically situated themselves away from the worst of the night's tempestuous weather, they emerge from their nocturnal safe havens, temporarily perplexed by the sudden calm. Slurred trills reverberate above me. Shifting my gaze upwards, lime~Vcolored contours appear, coal'black eyes glinting expectantly in the sun. A second jumble of notes pierces the surrounding shadows as a green outline streaks across my field of view. Alighting briefly upon the lone sunlit branch ahead of me, the Pine Warbler soon doubles back, sprinting over my head to join its comrades in the depths of the pines. Strengthening sunshine accompanies my hike into a habitat transition zone, the solid wall of evergreens abutting Route 122 giving way to a blend of deciduous and coniferous trees. A wiry snatch of song pulsates from the top of a hickory, bringing my footfalls to a halt. Cottony undersides mated to a soft yellow facial patch flit out of sight. Crisp white wings bars add luster to an otherwise subdued profile. I reposition myself behind the tree, attempting to gain a better view. A pair of saffron'hued legs distinguishes itself from this mass of soft facial contours, and abruptly exits my field of view. A group of similarly colored silhouettes appear, obligingly dancing out to the tips of the branches. Saturated with flecks of off-white, the birds' black throats convey a grizzled appearance. Their distinctive call seesaws from the branches to my ears, a steady see'sip, see'sip, see'sip. This pleasant cadence is suddenly interrupted by a sequence of sharply contrasting sounds. A string of emphatic single notes, ZEET-ZEET-ZEET-ZEET, draws my attention away from the two'syllable refrain I initially detected. I yearn for concrete shapes to match with the vocalizations around me, and I am soon rewarded. A compact flock of Black'throated Green Warblers appears in the upper reaches of the hickory, accompanied by a lone Blackpoll Warbler. My meanderings have brought me to the magnificently repaired John Fiske Bridge. Savoring the increased width and substantially improved structural strength, I unpack a scope. Scrutinizing the perimeter of the vast adjacent pond, I discern an elegant form adorning a gnarled branch. An agitated band of raucous Blue Jays swoop and dive at a streamlined shape sporting warm brown upperparts accentuated with a broad swath of gunmetal gray. The jays mount several sorties, unable to shatter their opponent's repose. With remarkable poise, the male American Kestrel propels itself aloft, neatly singles out its most vociferous adversary, and swoops upward with formidable talons fully extended. Stunned and terrified by their enemy's sudden display of effortless power and resolve, the jays scatter like chaff upon the wind, the air permeated with an abrupt silence. Chuckling at the retreating jays, I focus my attention upon the surrounding vegetation in hopes of discovering other feathered shapes fleeing the wrath of an irate raptor. A plump light-brown shape flecked with white timidly emerges from the branches of a nearby oak, uttering an expectant KEEK? KEEK? KEEK? Its vocalizations inflected with a sense of relief at the kestrel's departure, it flutters further into the open, yellow wing linings tinged with pink. Bringing its robust white bill to bear upon the undersides of the brightening leaves, the female Rose'breasted Grosbeak extracts a sickly wasp from their midst. After gulping her quarry with aplomb, she flies purposefully away, streaking out over the pond's broad expanse to the woods beyond. My gaze falls upon the muddy shore she has just traversed, and I marvel at its varied hues of brown and gray. A patch of white sprinkled with light brown suddenly sprints into the far reaches of my field of view. It settles upon the exposed muck with blurred, whirring wingbeats. A bold ivory accent stripe begins bobbing methodically, soon followed by a coal-colored eye line. A pale yellow bill eagerly gleans the myriad insects, tiny fish, and larvae the cool gray waters provide. Whistling sporadically, the compact figure steadily travels the length of the shore, reaching a floating tree limb, which it keenly explores. It quickly extracts a wriggling grub as an invigorating breeze increases in intensity. The sunlit mudflat is enveloped in sudden shadow by a procession of billowing clouds. Ocher feathers tousled by the sudden momentum imparted by the stiffening wind, the Spotted Sandpiper takes to the air on trembling wings, thrust further west upon the heels of the clouds. As the sandpiper's coral pink legs recede into the distance, my gaze falls upon the birches passing beneath it, their slender limbs bobbing and swaying in the bracing current of air. Flocks of grackles and cowbirds dance crazily upon the erratic gusts, dissuaded from settling upon one perch after another. Squash~Vcolored feathers appear, clinging to a bucking branch. Swiveling my scope upon the tiny figure, I distinguish a blue-gray upper body. Gamely angling its body into the wind, the tiny figure shivers with relief as the gusts subside. The sun reemerges, saturating the landscape with forgotten warmth. After a final shudder, the bird regains its composure, preens briefly, and gazes attentively into the open air in the vicinity of its perch, two-toned bill glinting in the sun. Several spirited feeding forays yield only limited results. Hungering for more conclusive field marks, I study a petite white semicircle upon its face. Closer examination reveals an irregular eye ring. Repositioning itself upon its perch, a triangular patch of yellow and green upon its back shifts into view. With sudden resolve, the female Parula Warbler departs, pushing doggedly into the diminishing winds. I gaze with dismay at the gaping holes in my daily field card, and am struck by the absence of birds of prey from the morning's totals. Scanning the open sky in hopes of detecting familiar shapes riding the thermals, a loose kettle of Turkey Vultures materializes against the clouds, reinvigorating my hopes. With unhurried grace, each bird traces several sure'footed arcs against the sky. They coalesce into a languid ellipse, masterfully exploiting the steady increase in thermal activity that accompanies the afternoon sun's intensity. Multiple pairs of orange legs and regal gray secondaries glow softly. Monstrous prehensile primaries coax the warm air to do their bidding, magically propelling their possessors in any direction they wish. Two immature birds tip and sway closer into view, their heads a patchwork of black, plum and asphalt gray. They are soon joined by two adults who position themselves squarely above and below the youngsters. Having executed this maneuver with the utmost precision, I contemplate whether the parents have chosen to lead by example, if the young are teaching the old, or if an unshakable natural instinct has drawn all four birds to the choicest portion of the air column. My thirst for raptors stimulated by the aerial ballet of the vultures, I retrieve a road atlas from my pack. Course plotted, I strike out for a more productive viewing area. An unblinking eye stares back at me from the shrubbery adjacent to the entrance to Cook's Canyon Sanctuary. A chestnut head stripe appears above it, shifting into the sunlight. A uniformly pale bill adroitly plucks berries, creeping steadily along the robust sumac branch. Boldly streaked chests appear, surrounding the head and bill I first glimpsed. Soon the tree is filled with a mass of animated shapes displaying faded yellow on the sides of their breasts. Foraging in earnest, white throats swiveling in unison as they peer into the upper reaches of the sumac, they pass beyond the brownish head and pudgy pale bill, still my primary source of interest. A smooth gray face and breast mated to the boldly patterned head and pinkish bill finally emerge into stronger light, and I am subjected to the curious stare of a White-crowned Sparrow. As it sprints across the nearby clearing, the battered branches of a neighboring pine fill with minute flashes of movement. Cascading flecks of searing yellow rimmed with vibrant orange flit downwards. Penetrating, sibilant TZEET- EET-ZEET calls break the early morning stillness. They drift towards the first flock of muted mustard breasts, closing ranks with it, enlivening the amoeba-like mass of streaked brown with their colorful dancing forms. The swirling mass of Yellow-rumped Warblers and Golden'crowned Kinglets is a captivating spectacle, filling the air with uninterrupted movement. Their shapes dart energetically through the air, riding upon the opaque, glowing sunbeams angling into the recesses of this secluded glen. I force myself to break away, realizing that the ideal time to view my desired subjects is fast approaching. I have long suspected the rocky overlook further ahead to be an ideal raptor viewing sight, and I redouble my efforts to reach it. I emerge upon a sun-marbled path abutting a picturesque but depleted brook. I peer down the steep embankment running to the water's edge and distinguish a russet tail and bold spots. Wings flicker. A spotted dingy white breast moves out of the shadows. The somber tail is sedately raised and lowered, accompanied by muted KUK calls. It is joined by another identical shape. The pair climbs further up into the reaches of a meager maple sapling, their bulky shapes enormous in comparison to the feathered sprites that were the recent focal point of my attention. Two enchanting pairs of bottomless black eyes fix me with a dreamy stare. I overestimate their accommodation, and the Hermit Thrushes flee at my approach. Black'and'white Warblers feed in a pallid sun, clinging obstinately to the tree trunks bearing the brunt of a fickle wind. An inquisitive PREET?!? rings out from the densest foliage on the far side of the brook. A Rufous-sided Towhee appears, seemingly surveying the grove's dark, still depths for any sign of avian companionship. Nonplussed, it returns to the interior of the bayberry from which it came. A dense carpet of freshly fallen leaves glistening with the night's accumulated dew leads me to my observation point. Fashioning a seat out of my jacket~Vstuffed backpack, I situate myself upon the surface of the exposed rocks, astonishingly warm in an early autumn sun unobstructed by vegetation. Common Flickers call enthusiastically. They undulate gaily against the tree line demarcating the broadest expanse of the shallow valley below, their disembodied glowing white upper tail coverts the only visual indication of their presence. I systematically shift my gaze across the boundless expanse. Stray dots float into view, my heart quickening as their number grows. Elegantly fanned tails, zebra stripes glowing in the strong sun, continue to concentrate. A graceful stream of raptors, highlighted against a backdrop of minimal clouds, glides nearly single file into view. Stocky wings tilt upwards, the birds moving into an ocean of cobalt sky. The accretion of minute flecks continues, the birds displaying trailing wing edges accentuated with crisp black. Glassing upwards, I realize I am gazing at a significant number of Broad'winged Hawks. I scan their uppermost ranks, attempting to ascertain a total number. A huge silhouette lumbers into view, brawny physique dwarfing the birds below. Smoothly negotiating the prevailing thermals, it limns the outlines of the concentration of Broad-wings, effortlessly doubling back to inspect their number more closely. A bold patchwork of brown and white reveals a juvenile Bald Eagle peering into the depths of the kettle with a glinting eye. Soon satisfied, its imposing contours drift off towards the horizon, allowing the dispersed Broad-wings to reconverge. As I establish a count well into the hundreds, the churning multitude dwindles, pockets of birds dissolving into the heavens. While immersed in the activities of the Broad-wings, I have given short shrift to the growing din generated by a flock of crows. I redirect my attention to other portions of the landscape, searching for its source. An agitated flurry of iridescent ebony wings fills my field of view, an agile shape sprinting powerfully through its center. Fleeing crows scatter before the bold advance of a Cooper's Hawk streaking through a cluster of pines, a freshly felled American Robin in its talons. Faced with concrete evidence of their adversary's hunting prowess, the crows alight with comic disarray in a distant oak. Their clamor continues, directed towards one another rather than the feisty hawk. The raucous tumult having subsided, I glance skyward. Attention drawn to the passing banks of clouds, I pause to examine them in earnest. Intermittent wing beats appear, and I study the sudden movement with my binoculars. The energetic sprite continues its stubborn, haphazard advance over the countryside despite the potent winds. The diminutive shape draws nearer, and the full outline of the raptor soon appears. Its prominent scapulars are dotted with white and mated to bold brown streaks on an off-white breast, belly, and flanks. These details, coupled with its peripatetic flapping, convince me an energetic immature Sharp-shinned Hawk is passing overhead. Hunching down against the unyielding rock face and squinting into an unforgiving sun has brought about an inevitable soreness in my muscles. I long for another immersion in the cool forest interior. Standing stiffly, I am delighted that my prolonged canvassing of open sky has revealed such a satisfying smattering of raptors. The sudden shade is immediately soothing, reinvigorating me as my eyes readjust to the comparative gloom of the woodland. Startled at my approach, a cluster of White-breasted Nuthatches cease their industrious foraging long enough to glance at me, whining impertinently. I slacken my pace, not wishing to inadvertently flush additional wildlife. I have chosen an ideal moment to remain stationary: a bold chocolate brown shape charges towards me along a low stone wall. I instantly drop to the ground in an attempt to lower my silhouette. I timidly peak from behind a maple sapling at the patch of wall that contained the mammalian profile. Temporarily panic'stricken, I anticipate an unwanted face-to-face encounter with the bear cub, and hastily plot a retreat from the area, beads of sweat drenching my brow. I glance upwards and view an elongated shape leaping onto the trunk of an enormous pine. Babbling with relief and surprise, I realize a fisher is scrutinizing me. Curiosity perhaps satisfied, its bushy tail rockets out of sight into the upper reaches of the tree, now invisible. As an onrush of cars softly announces itself in the distance, I emerge from my reverie, and rejoin the nuthatches. American Crow 38 American Kestrel 3 American Robin 43 Barred Owl 1 Belted Kingfisher 3 Black and White Warbler 4 Black'capped Chickadee 14 Blackpoll Warbler 3 Black'throated Green Warbler 11 Blue Jay 51 Blue'headed Vireo 1 Broad'winged Hawk 268 Brown Creeper 1 Carolina Wren 2 Chipping Sparrow 6 Common Raven 3 Common Yellowthroat 4 Cooper's Hawk 3 Double'crested Cormorant 5 Downy Woodpecker 1 Eastern Bluebird 2 Eastern Phoebe 5 Eastern Towhee 1 Field Sparrow 1 Golden'crowned Kinglet 9 Gray Catbird 4 Great Blue Heron 1 Great Horned Owl 1 Hairy Woodpecker 1 Hermit Thrush 2 Herring Gull 3 Mourning Dove 18 Northern Cardinal 7 Northern Harrier 1 Northern Mockingbird 1 Northern Parula 1 Palm Warbler 2 Pileated Woodpecker 1 Pine Warbler 7 Red'breasted Nuthatch 1 Red'tailed Hawk 2 Ring'billed Gull 1 Rose'breasted Grosbeak 2 Ruby'crowned Kinglet 5 Ruffed Grouse 3 Sharp'shinned Hawk 4 Spotted Sandpiper 1 Tufted Titmouse 7 Turkey Vulture 28 White'breasted Nuthatch 8 White'crowned Sparrow 3 Yellow'rumped Warbler 59(trip report from Chris Ellison).
The depths of the nearby foliage teem with significant numbers of other immature birds. Cedar Waxwings whirl by, quickly situating themselves in the shrubbery closest to me. The comically disheveled shapes of the juvenile birds settle upon an exposed branch, their paler eyes and throat conveying a sense of bewilderment at the variety of foodstuffs available to them. Two younger birds gamely flycatch, securing three plump Black Carpenter Ants. Perhaps reveling in the newness of perceptions formulated outside the confines of a sturdy nest manned by attentive parents, eight juvenile American Robins also appear to survey the world with equal measures of wide-eyed expectancy and curiosity. A pleasant jumble of eggshell^�white throats, soft apricot breasts, and backs and tertials sporting jaunty white stripes, they demurely nibble upon the sumac berries surrounding them. A dissonant, muted whistling reaches my ears, and as I glance skyward, the Cedar Waxwings rise, a beige elastic amoeba drifting lazily upwards.
My attention is drawn to other hyperactive shapes furtively darting through the air. Angular, streamlined bodies and opaque wings coalesce into the shapes of dragonflies. Abruptly scattering at the Waxwings' sudden exit, they quickly close ranks, reassuming their positions several feet above the riot of vegetation beneath them. The oscillating sheen of each pair of wings creates the effect of viewing diamonds caught in a whirlpool. Frantically readjusting my scope, I sift through the boldly colored wing patterns and bodies, attempting to attach name to shape. I discern the searing phosphorous white abdomen of Common Whitetail, the startling yellow and green of Halloween Pennant, the delicate tincture of lavender at the posterior tip of a Twelve-Spotted Skimmer, and the jet-black wing bases of a Widow Skimmer. The countless emerald thoraxes ceaselessly pulsing to and fro comprise a cloud of Common Green Darners. The steady background drone of Red-breasted Nuthatches accompanies my efforts. Each nasal pulse coincides with my brain's registering the shape of each Darner. I realize I must ruthlessly allocate my time in order to savor the riches of other habitats, and I rise to go NOW- NOW- NOW- NOW- NOW^�
Peering into the forested depths of the steep hillside, my ears and eyes are drawn steadily upwards, attempting to discern a shape darting amongst the sun-dappled hemlock branches. A small, glistening orb appears to adhere to the trunk of the tree furthest from me. The compact black pearl shifts to the right in the scope, revealing an elliptical blot of soft color, a shade of orange approaching that of the sunlit jar of marmalade that was upon my breakfast table a scant two hours ago. A charcoal eyeball mated to diffuse moss green and brown appears next, followed by blurry wing bars and a more sharply striped back. The compact tripartite spiral of vocalization uttered moments ago repeats itself. Wiping the sweat from the corner of my eye, I steady my scope again in time to see a somber Blackburnian Warbler sprint into the daylight beyond.
I edge into the clearing at the base of the slope, and tread warily along the edge of an open field bordering the marsh, reluctant to scatter any birds as the soggy terrain tugs at my boots. I settle into a comfortable position behind a squat willow sapling, tilt my scope skyward, and survey the intricate, speckled folds of the cirrocumulus clouds overhead. As the cloud mass shifts to the east, a minute cottony fleck dislodges from this sea of white, spiraling downwards, broadening in its dimensions and acquiring an increasingly silver color. The trailing edge of the wings flushes dove-gray, ebony legs following behind. The bird whirls counterclockwise, a saffron, dagger-like bill glinting in the sun as it sharply alters its pitch, descending rapidly into a glide level with the treetops bronzed with summer sun. The massive three-toed feet of the Great Egret thrust forward, planting themselves firmly in the shallow, rippling waters of the marsh. Unperturbed by my presence, the bird assumes a feeding posture, quickly wresting an unsuspecting small fish from the murky depths. I focus upon the dense vegetation behind it in hopes of detecting any movement meriting further scrutiny. Amplified by my scope, Queen Anne's Lace, Giant Goldenrod, and Joe Pye-Weed assume stupefying proportions, each plant's surface a seemingly boundless universe unto itself. A burly, zebra-striped shape streaks into view and lands assertively upon the Queen Anne's Lace furthest from me. Dissatisfied with this image, I attach a higher power eyepiece to my scope, and am rewarded with a detailed view of mustard-yellow spots on a squat, angular head. Systematically probing the white blossom with its mouthparts, sturdy legs nimbly carrying it across the plant's surface, the insect abruptly stops, perhaps aware of its weight causing the plant to sway slightly. Reversing direction and pivoting sharply, an impeccably attired Bald-faced Hornet is now in full view.
Enchanted by both the utility and sudden novelty of a highly magnified subject, I point my scope into the shady depths of the oak canopy four hundred yards away. The breast of a Great Crested Flycatcher appears, as delicate a shade of yellow as the yolk of a hard-boiled egg. A small branch stirs in the rising breeze, revealing a pair of Black-and-white Warblers. They leisurely delve into the crevices of the nearest tree, gradually spiraling out of sight behind its trunk. My attention is drawn to two extraordinarily slender shapes protruding outwards from one branch's outer leaves. They delicately twitch in a rhythm out of sync with the gentle rise and fall induced by the steady breeze. The inward portion of the leaf cluster expands and shifts position in a peculiar fashion, rapidly lengthening and increasing in size. Graceful limbs fully extended, a breathtaking Northern Walkingstick juts out from the tuft of foliage. It adroitly swivels behind the leaves, methodically reorienting itself.
Collapsing my scope, I wade into the underbrush, plodding steadily towards my excursion's last vantage point. I stand with my back against the late afternoon sun, peering intently down hill into a slight depression. A monstrous glacial erratic, long since departed or buried beneath the earth's surface, excavated this natural amphitheater now brimming with lush Orange Jewelweed. With the declining angle of the sun, its luxuriant leaves resemble a kaleidoscope, slowly flushing metallic green followed by a waxy lime and a final vibrant emerald. Almost comical, a slight whimsical spattering of cinnamon accentuating their globular, pumpkin-orange blossoms, the tube-like depths of the Jewelweed prove an irresistible temptation to my desired subject. A muted drone gently surges through the random chatter of other birds making a last feeding foray. The delicate dry rattle moves closer, sound and form converging into the shape of a black and gray asterisk. Darting into the last of the sun's rays, it is accompanied by others of its kind. The air is now filled with several pairs of oscillating wings, shimmering shapes eagerly investigating the profusion of provender before them. Minute red specks flit gaily across a portion of nature's palette entirely their own, dominated by pulsating variations of cranberry, crimson, and burgundy. The movements of the Ruby-throated Hummingbirds acquire a sudden urgency, each bird moving in increasingly compact grids around a cluster of blossoms. Having imbibed their fill, they hover briefly over the area, ensuring that no delectable flower has been overlooked, and depart with the last of the sun's rays.
American Crow 17 American Goldfinch 38 American Redstart 3 American Robin 57 Baltimore Oriole 3 Barn Swallow 11 Barred Owl 1 Belted Kingfisher 2 Black-and-white Warbler 1 Black Duck 5 Blackburnian Warbler 1 Black-capped Chickadee 6 Black-throated Blue Warbler 3 Black-throated Green Warbler 5 Blue Jay 13 Blue-gray Gnatcatcher 1 Blue-winged Warbler 1 Broad-winged Hawk 1 Brown Creeper 1 Canada Goose 19 Cedar Waxwing 23 Chestnut-sided Warbler 1 Chipping Sparrow 3 Common Yellowthroat 3 Double-crested Cormorant 5 Downy Woodpecker 2 Eastern Bluebird 4 Eastern Kingbird 3 Eastern Phoebe 4 Eastern Towhee 1 Eastern Wood Peewee 4 Gray Catbird 7 Great Blue Heron 2 Great Crested Flycatcher 1 Great Egret 1 Great Horned Owl 1 Green Heron 1 Hairy Woodpecker 2 Hermit Thrush 2 Herring Gull 1 House Wren 4 Indigo Bunting 1 Killdeer 5 Least Flycatcher 2 Least Sandpiper 1 Mourning Dove 13 Northern Cardinal 3 Northern Flicker 3 Northern Harrier 1 Osprey 1 Pileated Woodpecker 1 Pine Warbler 4 Prairie Warbler 1 Red-breasted Nuthatch 6 Red-eyed Vireo 2 Red-shouldered Hawk 1 Red-tailed Hawk 2 Red-winged Blackbird 48 Ruby-throated Hummingbird 7 Savannah Sparrow 5 Scarlet Tanager 3 Solitary Sandpiper 1 Song Sparrow 7 Spotted Sandpiper 1 Swamp Sparrow 4 Tree Swallow 14 Tufted Titmouse 1 Turkey Vulture 8 White-breasted Nuthatch 7 Wild Turkey 13 Wood Duck 3 Wood Thrush 1 Lepidoptera: Cabbage White Clouded Sulphur Hummingbird Moth Mourning Cloak Orange Sulphur Spicebush Swallowtail Odonates: Common Green Darner Common Whitetail Halloween Pennant Twelve-Spotted Skimmer Widow Skimmer Other: Northern Walkingstick Bald-faced Hornet Botanica: Blue Vervain Butter-and Eggs Common Mullein Fragrant Water-Lily Orange Jewelweed Square-stemmed Monkeyflower Wild Teasel Yellow Pond-Lily(report from Chris Ellison).
Driving west on Bay Road through Hadley, the fleeting, supple, metallic twinkles of Eastern Meadlowlark and Bobolink engulf my ears, contrasting sharply with the raucous gaggle of American Crows flying parallel to my car, high above me. The sultry air, filled with wisps of dandelion, the intoxicating scent of freshly mown hay, and the lustrous whiteness of the variegated shapes of cumulus clouds, heralds the arrival of summer weather. Nimbly plying the air on scimitar-shaped wings, Barn Swallows twist and dive, mouths agape with a playful eagerness. As I enter the largest gravel parking area on the east side of Hockanum Road abutting the Halfway House Trail, a humid breeze tousles the branches of the tree line, coaxing a steady stream of tantalizing vocalizations out of the landscape. This initial burst of activity temporarily subsides as I expectantly canvas the upper branches of the multitude of maple, oak and hickory trees lining this busy stretch of Route 47 South. My eyes are suddenly drawn to a minute pair of yellow legs dancing in and out of view in the gently swaying branches of an oak 300 yards further south on the west side of the roadway. Snatches of wiry, ephemeral song, combined with glimpses of an ebony crown gleaming like a lump of anthracite coal, betray the presence of a Blackpoll Warbler amongst the catkin-laden foliage. Unusually obliging, it remains tautly poised in full view upon an open branch, awaiting the arrival of an unsuspecting insect to provide its morning sustenance. Lunging forward, its bill abruptly snaps shut around the shape of a succulent Pigeon Horntail, soon wriggling in desperation. The doomed insect's outline neatly disappears in two rapid gulps. Drenched with dew, the asphalt beneath my feet is streaked in delicate rainbow patterns. The accumulated moisture quickly dissipates, flickering skyward in steamy, gossamer plumes. As I advance further south along the west side of the roadway, a large open field arouses my curiosity. Each saturated, bejeweled grass stalk has been temporarily transformed into a glittering prism, the meadow shimmering softly in the increasingly intense sunlight. The simmering humid air, now filled with the first stirrings of insect life, pulsates with a growing intensity. As I glass its myriad contours, a sudden burst of speckled black and beige rockets into view, creating a slight disturbance in the grass beneath it. Propelled by flickering wing beats, the shape neatly arcs along the slope of the lush hillside, its quarry still twitching in its talons. Alighting adroitly upon the gnarled branch of a dead ash, the American Kestrel neatly picks apart the substantial grasshopper. Eating concluded, it calmly surveys the landscape, anticipating the arrival of its next meal. Breaking my gaze away from the poised raptor, I continue to scan the landscape. My eyes move further back to the skyline, hungering for glimpses of additional raptors traversing the horizon. Several undulating flecks appear, edging closer in haphazard fashion, their coloration alternating from jet black to mustard to searing yellow. Their querulous, burry chatter fills the air as they suddenly plunge earthward, settling in to the knotty upper branches of a smoke-gray snag. An anonymous brown shape flits downward, dislodged by the Goldfinches' tumultuous arrival. Sporting buffy wing bars and putty undersides, the shape continues feeding, periodically flitting in animated circles into the small cloud of insects swirling above the bare branches. Uttering its characteristic winsome whistle, the Eastern Wood Pewee feeds as the Goldfinches continue jousting for ideal perches on the branches above. Intrigued by the activity unfolding at this overlap of mature forest and open grassland, I decide to prolong my examination of the meadow perimeter. The pleasant dip in temperature encountered as I enter the markedly cooler shaded woods from the expansive sun-drenched countryside presents an ideal opportunity to pause and unearth a small folding stool from the depths of my daypack. A minute, zebra-striped form darts overhead, settling neatly against a rotted tree trunk several yards from the meadow's edge. An elliptical white patch inches methodically upwards. The shape of a Downy Woodpecker turns in sharp profile, rapidly ascending nearly the full height of the decaying snag. With a gravity-defying sweep of its wings, it grasps the underside of an exposed limb, vanishing as quickly as it appeared. I quickly seat myself upon my nearly forgotten stool, bracing myself against the nearest tree trunk. Refocusing my binoculars, I eagerly await the bird's reappearance, neck and back throbbing in discomfort as I contort myself into a better viewing position against the tree trunk's mercilessly abrasive surface. A full five minutes elapses, the incessant whine of mosquitoes stretching interminably from moment to moment. At last, the bird reemerges, confirming my suspicions of its having constructed a nest and successfully hatched young by streaking away with a fecal waste sack clutched in its bill. Standing slowly, I brush the remaining ants and stray catkins from my sweat-soaked shirt, relishing an unexpected cooling breeze blowing upon my back. Stretching my upper body back to some state of comfort, movement in the tree canopy captures my attention. A massive off-white bill prods a leaf, masterfully plucking a green caterpillar from its underside. Bulky contours emerge, waddling comically along an overburdened branch. Accentuated by a bold silver-gray eye stripe, a chestnut head peers down at me. Scrambling legs frantically tuck themselves beneath pearly flanks mottled with brown. With a dramatic flourish of striking yellow wing linings, the female Rose-breasted Grosbeak regains its composure. Struck by the comparative silence that has accompanied my observations of the last few minutes, I push further into the periphery of this mature woodland, ears hungering for stimulation. A perfectly symmetrical fan-shaped tail, accentuated with russet streaks spreading outwards from a nut-brown center, pauses momentarily in the passing rays of the sun before retreating through the slender branches above. An underbelly washed with saffron yellow presents itself, soon followed by an outstretched head and neck saturated with a subtle blend of gray and cinnamon. Pivoting with a measured certainty, its smooth contours systematically canvassing each point of the compass, the shape rotates at last to face me. FRE-E-P! In a blur of feathers, vacant bobbing branches replace the Great Crested Flycatcher's outline, a blue-gray thunderbolt careening through the leaves. I am subjected to a baleful stare emanating from a peculiarly disembodied pair of glowering, pumpkin-orange eyes. Tightly gripped talons ride the ebb and flow of a swaying branch, revealing the form of a decidedly non-plussed juvenile Sharp-shinned Hawk. Swiveling hurriedly away from me in a half circle, the flummoxed raptor presents its striking rufous upperparts, highlighted with a smattering of white spots. As if separated by unseen hands, the emerald canopy parts, the hawk springing aloft into a cloudless azure sky. Shady calm restored, a thin, slightly decurved bill emerges from the side of a massive hickory, delicately probing the crevices of its richly textured bark. A vague outline shifts tentatively forward, perhaps disbelieving that the drama of the last few moments has actually passed. An ashen gray throat slowly rises and falls. The bark suddenly expands in a flickering bloom of cream and light brown, a slight figure appearing on top of and then dissolving into the swath of lichens skirting the tree. A single spare ZEEP! reaches my ears. Continued scrutiny reveals the presence of a Brown Creeper, neatly rotating itself downwards as it prepares to execute its diagnostic plunge to the base of another tree. Temporarily satiated, the bird drops noiselessly downwards to an unseen destination. Suddenly cognizant of the wealth of birding opportunities awaiting me at my arrival point, I retrace my steps, temporarily blinded as I step from the forest's edge into intense sunlight. I bound up the short sandy wash, my hiking boots sinking readily into the rapidly softening asphalt. While negotiating the steadily increasing flow of morning traffic, I look quickly overhead, a Red-tailed Hawk spiraling upwards on the strengthening thermals. Its appearance inflames a pair of Eastern Kingbirds. Animated jabber accompanies their relentless swoops and dives directed at the hawk's hulking shape, individual vocal outbursts coinciding with the passage of each car on the road. pit-pit-pit-pit-pit-pit-pit-pit DZ-EEB! DZ-EEB! DZ-EEB! DZ- EEB! DZ-EEB! The forest interior accessed through the network of Halfway House, Conglomerate Rock, and Taylor's Notch trails is cloaked in a sweeping tapestry of alternating light and shade, presenting the challenge of attaching shape to song. Much is gained from patiently peering into the shadows. The emphatic chip-BANG of a Scarlet Tanager resounds from the heights of a White Oak. Its branches part at the mercurial bidding of the wind, blue sky appearing behind its arresting crimson and black silhouette. Erratic movement appears below it. Two disjointed blotches of color, one beige, the other a crisp white, shift sharply downwards in tandem, uttering a piercing ACK! call note. An avocado hue, equal portions of olive and yellow, swivels out of sight, reemerging in the sunlight in the form of a female Black-throated Blue Warbler. A captivating series of evenly spaced, sliding notes, originating from a lone clump of Rosebay Rhododendron, draws my attention away from the animated warbler. A cinnamon shape flits downward, blending perfectly into the forest floor. Continuing to sing, it fosters the mildly disquieting impression of vocalizing from some unseen realm. I inch forward, ochre polka dots scurrying feverishly away. Spishing steadily, I succeed in arresting the contour's movement. As I drop to a crouch to better study its markings, the Veery eyes me unflinchingly, deciding whether I am friend or foe. Perhaps engrossed by the sun dancing across my brown boots, it dashes towards me, stops short once again, and abruptly takes wing before I can successfully shift position. As I follow the slender stream paralleling the Halfway House Trail, stout stands of glossy Christmas Fern glisten in the filtered sunlight. A furtive shape darts amongst the gossamer filaments of Water Horsetail, clumped in sprightly clusters against the glinting waters. A rapidly escalating SNEA-ker SNEA-ker SNEA-ker SNEA-ker bursts from the vegetation. A luminous white breast, highlighted by a capricious sprinkling of black speckles, flits into view, quickly followed by a roughly triangular shape covered in muted orange bordered by chocolate brown. Angular head comically bobbing in unison with its feet, the Ovenbird demurely dips its bill into the stream's rippling sheen. After methodically probing a small pocket of Interrupted Fern, it scurries away at my approach, dashing towards the drier elevated slope to the southeast. As I edge away from the sharp southwest bend of Conglomerate Rock Trail, stray luxuriant stands of Staghorn Clubmoss stretch towards the Ovenbird's departure point, inviting further study of the growing wealth of plant life that continues to appear. Clusters of young Mountain Laurel, jagged trunks sporting their partially detached slivers of russet bark, stir in a refreshingly sudden breeze. Veeries call invitingly from their interior, beckoning me further along this last sinuous turn of the Halfway House Trail that leads to the Skinner House. A sense of anticipation propels me through the remainder of the steep hike. I have combined my birding activities with a visit to a spectacular photography exhibit HEEER- HEEER-HEEER-HEEER-HEEER displaying the stunning scenery of the Mount Tom and Mount Holyoke Ranges. I welcome the opportunity to wallow in others' rich perceptions, to drink in still further the aesthetic delights I've treasured today, and learn of some new sublime, previously hidden vantage point from which to study birds. As my eyes adjust to the cool interior, I relish viewing the area's sumptuous landscape cloaked in a variety of guises so unlike those I have seen today. The mellow, diffuse greens of earliest spring, the lithe, velvety contours of summer fog, the riotous extravagance of autumn color, and the sobering, ascetic proportions of a dove-gray and aubergine winter landscape unfold before me. The musical sloshing of my replenished canteen beats time to my footfalls crossing a shaded deck. Savoring the champagne air, I wearily settle into an immaculate white rocking chair, the ceaseless caroling of an Indigo Bunting a fitting conclusion to the day's outing. "Focusing on the Range: A Community Photo Exhibit" continues at the Summit House at Skinner State Park in Hadley, Massachusetts until August 28th.Complete list:
American Goldfinch 13 American Kestrel 1 American Redstart 2 Baltimore Oriole 3 Barn Swallow 15 Black Duck 1 Black-and-white Warbler 5 Blackburnian Warbler 1 Blackpoll Warbler 3 Black-throated Blue Warbler 1 Black-throated Green Warbler 6 Blue Jay 9 Blue-gray Gnatcatcher 1 Blue-headed Vireo 4 Blue-winged Warbler 2 Bobolink 6 Brown Thrasher 1 Brown-headed Cowbird 9 Carolina Wren 1 Cedar Waxwing 14 Chestnut-Sided Warbler 7 Chimney Swift 23 Chipping Sparrow 2 Common Grackle 19 Common Yellowthroat 4 Downy Woodpecker 1 Eastern Kingbird 2 Eastern Phoebe 3 Eastern Wood Pewee 1 European Starling 19 Field Sparrow 1 Gray Catbird 3 Great Blue Heron 1 Great Crested Flycatcher 2 Hairy Woodpecker 1 Hermit Thrush 1 House Wren 2 Indigo Bunting 1 Killdeer 1 Least Flycatcher 7 Louisiana Waterthrush 1 Magnolia Warbler 1 Northern Flicker 3 Northern Harrier 1 Northern Mockingbird 2 Northern Parula 1 Ovenbird 4 Pileated Woodpecker 1 Pine Warbler 1 Prairie Warbler 2 Red-bellied Woodpecker 1 Red-breasted Nuthatch 3 Red-eyed Vireo 11 Red-tailed Hawk 1 Rock Pigeon 19 Rose-breasted Grosbeak 2 Rough-winged Swallow 11 Ruby-crowned Kinglet 1 Ruby-throated Hummingbird 2 Rufous-sided Towhee 3 Scarlet Tanager 4 Sharp-shinned Hawk 1 Song Sparrow 1 Spotted Sandpiper 2 Swamp Sparrow 1 Tree Swallow 18 Tufted Titmouse 3 Turkey Vulture 11 Veery 4 Warbling Vireo 5 White-breasted Nuthatch 4 White-throated Sparrow 5 Wild Turkey 1 Winter Wren 1 Wood Duck 5 Wood Thrush 3 Yellow Warbler 5 Yellow-rumped Warbler 1 Yellow-throated Vireo 2(report from Chris Ellison).
Bracing my staff against the earth, I press forward, as Rose-breasted Grosbeaks, Scarlet Tanagers and Wood Thrushes become especially vocal. A sibilant ZEE- ZEE-ZEE-ZEE-ZEE-rises above the steady drone of Moose Brook. Canvassing the shadowy interior of the surrounding cool dense stands of Hemlock, I discern hues of muted white, gleaming black, and searing orange. A feathered shape dances in zig-zag fashion from branch to branch, joined by two others. Three Blackburnian Warblers, two males vying for the affections of a lone female, soon mesmerize me. A pair of Wood Thrushes squabble relentlessly, dogfighting in and out of the trees. A Least Flycatcher's che-BEK che-BEK seems to encourage their ferocity. A Rufous-sided Towhee, perhaps apprehensive at being enmeshed in the melee, periodically emerges with furtive movements at the tops of the thickest surrounding shrubs, PREET-ing at each appearance. Entranced by the momentarily chaotic ebb and flow of avifauna around me, I attempt to enliven the scene still further by imitating a Barred Owl. Throwing my head back, hands cupped about my mouth, I burst forth with the most spirited rendition of HOO-HOO-HOOHOO, HOO-HOO HOO-AAAA that I can muster. The two squabbling Wood Thrushes drop immediately to earth as if pulled by unseen strings, energetically cocking their heads in different directions, attempting to determine the source of the threatening sound. I delight in the opportunity to savor the rich speckling on each bird's breast, now a guilty pleasure.
The sun-dappled upper canopy of this mature deciduous forest yields further rewards. The slender shape of a lone Yellow-throated Vireo appears at the tip of a monstrous oak branch, impelling me forward with its insistent call of he-MAY, he-MAY. Its hyperkinetic foraging brings it into close proximity to a sudden incandescent flash of red. My eyes alight upon the shape of a Scarlet Tanager, ebony wings glistening as it vaults to the top of the oak. Tracing the tanager's outline from tail to bill, my gaze locks onto a fan-shaped, zebra-striped tail crossing the expanse of sapphire sky above, disappearing across the edge of Ridge Road. At last poised at the edge of the roadway, I unsling my scope, hunkering down painfully behind a stone wall, scanning the treetops on the west side of Ridge Road. I am rewarded with breathtaking views of a pair of Broad-winged Hawks constructing a nest, providing the most engrossing viewing at this particular point in my morning's itinerary.
Welcoming the opportunity to allow my calves and feet to recover from the relentless push uphill, I rise slowly, realigning my feet lengthwise against the steep slope, and descend to the car.
Arriving at Mandell Hill situated immediately off of Barre Road in Hardwick, gaudy Baltimore Orioles whistle from the birches abutting the East Quabbin Land Trust entrance. The array of birds present is clearly savoring the swelling tide of insects. Peripatetic Blue-gray Gnatcatchers lunge ceaselessly into their ranks, the inquisitive buzzing of Black-throated Blue and Parula Warblers an absorbing aural backdrop. Set in motion by the morning's soft breezes, a male American Kestrel glides overhead, alights at the top of a distant Ash, and begins to preen its silvery-gray wings. Sustained observation reveals the shape of its mate perched several feet below. A distant PEENT! announces the presence of an American Woodcock. The wealth of Bittersweet and Honeysuckle tangles in the surrounding fields produce Blue-winged and Nashville Warblers. The boundless energy of singing House Wrens and Mockingbirds seems to propel the morning's first flight of Turkey Vultures ever higher into the sky, a Red-tailed Hawk making a concerted effort to orbit above the flock of lumbering behemoths. Its view of the countryside now unobstructed, its keen eyes fixed upon some distant quarry, its silhouette plunges earthward at the eastern horizon. A flock of Wild Turkeys gingerly skirts the edge of a cornfield, a Carolina Wren eagerly foraging along the stone wall behind them.
I coast into the Cook's Canyon Sanctuary parking lot to find the shrubbery lining South Street in Barre teeming with Yellow-rumped Warblers. As I exit the car, a strident jumble of notes emanating from the underbrush reveals itself to be a Brown Thrasher. As soft rain begins to patter on asphalt, the bold silhouette of a Northern Flicker undulates through the air with a sudden urgency, depositing itself upon the trunk of a nearby snag and quickly excavating a wriggling grub. A trio of Magnolia Warblers flits sporadically overhead. Their crisp yellow and black undersides drop down from the forest canopy, slowly receding into the shrubs as the rain intensifies. The steady WEE-SEE WEE-SEE WEE-SEE WEE-SEE of two pairs of Black-and-white Warblers pierces the gloom.
Arriving at the Rock House Reservation parking lot, I discern haggard Blue Jays staring at me disconsolately from the surrounding tree branches. A slight breeze stirs the foliage, the scant rays of the sun struggling through the clouds. I walk quickly over the damp hiking trails, eager to survey the newly created butterfly garden beneath the property's power line transect. The gently escalating trill of a Prairie Warbler brings me to an abrupt halt. The songster soon appears at the top of a compact Cedar. Detecting a sharp TSICK! call note, I remain in place, focusing upon the slightest movement of the leaves of the young birches before me. An azure head coupled with a pale lower mandible darts to the edge of the closest sapling. The Indigo Bunting emerges fully at the end of a branch, its iridescent outline sparkling in the sun. Scanning the sky to gauge the weather, I observe four Rough-winged Swallows masterfully thinning the ranks of the growing numbers of insects. Hiking deeper into deciduous woodlands, the conversational cadence of Red-eyed Vireos mixes with the continuous nasal whine of Red-breasted Nuthatches. Intermittent sunshine illuminates a soggy expanse of pasture appearing over a low stone wall. Squatting behind it, I glass the clumps of vegetation not savored by the cows plodding out of the drizzle. They situate themselves serenely under a gigantic hickory, Killdeer sprinting haphazardly to and fro before them. A Least Flycatcher's che-BEK che-BEK keeps time with my footfalls on my return hike, with additional accompaniment provided by the erratic serenade of a Tennessee Warbler.
I wend my way eastward along Route 9, gunmetal gray clouds racing across the sky. As I sprint up Route 32, Common Grackles stream across the highway as if attempting to match their pace, their cacophony of squawks, grunts, and squeals rising above the onrush of air swirling inside my car's interior. The morning's increasingly unsettled weather seems to have stabilized as I back into the gravel lot abutting Winimusset Wildlife Management Area. I hike along the periphery of the boggy overgrown tangle, working my way southwest, yanking the hood of my parka down over my eyes to blunt the moist, capricious winds and wavelets of occasional drizzle. A Northern Harrier negotiates a sudden heavy gust of air, bobbing crazily on its currents. Small flecks of ochre and beige detach from the marshy tangle. A soft blush of yellow appears around the lores of one of the birds, and I soon distinguish a robust troop of Savannah Sparrows. Pushing forward through the waist high vegetation, I stir them aloft, a pair of Bobolinks following suit. The male Bobolink returns to earth, clinging to the tallest stand of grass, fluffing his plumage to maximum effect before he leaps into air once more, as if buoyed by the intensity of his song.
Reaching the water's edge, I view a supremely poised Osprey, every feather edge taut with anticipation, carefully surveying the depths below. Hooded Mergansers stretch and preen, shake off their evening slumber, and launch noiselessly into the water surrounding the branch-strewn island that is their nighttime roost. An American Coot waddles along the length of the far shore, as if lamenting its being equipped with such gigantic feet. Pausing to glass the sky, I detect a Greater Yellowlegs flying south. Vanishing into the swelling cloudbanks, its ethereal TU-TU-TU call falls gently to earth. Wood Ducks whine urgently, a low rumble of distant thunder perhaps adding to their apprehension. Somberly emerging from behind an uprooted snag, their gaudy silhouettes become momentarily motionless, gauging the strength of a pallid sun. They are suddenly aloft in a tumult of whirring wings. I rise to go as the heavens burst, a Gray Catbird mewling in protest.
Birds recorded: American Coot 1 American Kestrel 2 American Redstart 7 American Woodcock 1 Baltimore Oriole 4 Barn Swallow 17 Barred Owl 2 Belted Kingfisher 1 Black Duck 3 Black-and-white Warbler 8 Blackburnian Warbler 3 Blackpoll Warbler 1 Black-throated Blue Warbler 7 Black-throated Green Warbler 15 Blue Jay 19 Blue-gray Gnatcatcher 5 Blue-headed Vireo 8 Blue-winged Warbler 2 Bobolink 2 Broad-winged Hawk 2 Brown Thrasher 1 Brown-headed Cowbird 11 Canada Warbler 1 Carolina Wren 1 Chestnut-Sided Warbler 12 Chimney Swift 14 Chipping Sparrow 11 Common Grackle 21 Common Yellowthroat 6 Downy Woodpecker 2 Eastern Kingbird 1 Eastern Phoebe 4 European Starling 28 Field Sparrow 3 Gray Catbird 6 Great Blue Heron 2 Great Horned Owl 1 Greater Yellowlegs 1 Hairy Woodpecker 2 Hermit Thrush 3 Hooded Merganser 5 House Wren 3 Indigo Bunting 1 Killdeer 4 Least Flycatcher 1 Louisiana Waterthrush 1 Magnolia Warbler 3 Nashville Warbler 4 Northern Flicker 5 Northern Harrier 1 Northern Mockingbird 3 Northern Parula 5 Osprey 1 Ovenbird 7 Pileated Woodpecker 1 Prairie Warbler 1 Red-bellied Woodpecker 2 Red-breasted Nuthatch 6 Red-eyed Vireo 13 Red-tailed Hawk 1 Rock Pigeon 32 Rose-breasted Grosbeak 7 Rough-winged Swallow 4 Ruby-crowned Kinglet 1 Rufous-sided Towhee 5 Savannah Sparrow 11 Scarlet Tanager 7 Sharp-shinned Hawk 1 Solitary Sandpiper 1 Song Sparrow 5 Spotted Sandpiper 1 Swamp Sparrow 3 Tennessee Warbler 1 Tree Swallow 18 Tufted Titmouse 9 Turkey Vulture 14 Warbling Vireo 3 White-breasted Nuthatch 6 White-throated Sparrow 5 Wild Turkey 11 Wilson's Warbler 1 Winter Wren 2 Wood Duck 7 Wood Thrush 8 Yellow Warbler 7 Yellow-bellied Sapsucker 2 Yellow-rumped Warbler 21 Yellow-throated Vireo 1(report from Chris Ellison).