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 

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

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^Öwhite 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^Å

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

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. 

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

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