Date: 5/14/26 4:04 am From: Ted Levin <tedlevin1966...> Subject: [VTBIRD] 14 May 2026: Hurricane Hill (1,100 feet), WRJ
4:57 a.m., twenty-eight minutes before sunrise. Forty-six degrees, with an
east-southeast wind at five miles per hour, gusting to thirteen. No fog
below; only gray striations above. Drizzle softens into rain. Across the
White River, near the summit of Dothan Hill, the lights of a farmhouse glow
through the gloom. The sun eases above the New Hampshire skyline, noticed
only by creatures attuned to the finer gradations of daybreak.
4:57 a.m. A vocal changing of the guard. Uphill, a barred owl calls from
the hemlocks; downhill, from the far edge of the meadow, a woodcock *peents*.
Close at hand, someone has loosed the robins. Two wood thrushes, on either
side of the road, begin to sing. And deeper in the woods, where the owl
still holds court, a hermit thrush lifts its song, making a beautiful
mockery of every other feathered voice.
By 5:13 a.m.: juncos trill. Titmice scold. A grouse drums. A lone song
sparrow stutters in the lilac. The world stands on the bright, trembling
verge of morning.
5:18 a.m.: A robin works the shoulder of the road, gleaning stray worms.
*Among the Birds:* an airborne duck, wings a blur (common merganser?);
red-shouldered hawk, mourning dove, eastern phoebe, eastern wood pewee,
least flycatcher, sparrows—song, chipping, white-throated, field (first in
five years)—eastern towhee (more than a week in the neighborhood),
warblers—ovenbird, yellowthroat, myrtle, black-and-white, black-throated
green—blue jay, a disgruntled raven honking, American goldfinch, house
finch, and rose-breasted grosbeak.
5:39 a.m.: three wet crows drip silently from the naked crown of a dying
maple. Birds and raindrops scatter as I pass beneath.
