Date: 1/21/25 6:51 am From: Ted Levin <tedlevin1966...> Subject: [VTBIRD] 21 January 2025: Hurricane Hill (1,100 feet), WRJ
7:05 a.m. (eleven minutes before sunrise). Minus four degrees, wind
South-southwest five miles per hour, gusting to eleven. Neck gaiter stiff
with frozen exhalations. Sky: clear, cold, subtle; a few orphan clouds
close to the New Hampshire ridgeline, gray-blue tinged with lavender;
bright half moon low in the west; in the east, pastels, primarily yellow
and orange. The molten sun peeks above the Connecticut River valley—welcome
sunlight warms my strip of exposed face. No river fo
Yesterday's snow still lines the north side of rough-barked
trees—zebra-stripes. Lingers in the crevices of horizontal limbs. Old
footprints reduced to depressions.
Above the White River, seventeen crows head west, a piecemeal flock,
scattered and silent. Three crows head north, single file; rain *caws* down
on a frozen world. One exuberant raven plays in the river of cold air,
tumbling, sailing, spinning.
Bird with a carefree agenda ... must know where its next meal comes from.
Moody cardinal, a dash of red. Blue jays and mourning doves, back and forth
across the road. Red and white-breasted nuthatches call beyond my
sightline. Low over the treetops, seven robins, bunched together, fly
south—if they're looking for warmth, they'll be flying for a while. If
they're looking for food, there may be withered crab apples and
winterberries in the next valley—my side of Hurricane Hill, now fruitless.
Titmice inspect bark and store seeds, maintaining a busy schedule—back and
forth across the road. Behind my house to the feeders, one seed at a time.
Lilacs, maples, ashes ... any tree is acceptable if the back is grooved or
peeling.
