Date: 9/3/26 5:51 am From: Ted Levin <tedlevin1966...> Subject: [VTBIRD] 03 September 2026: Hurricane Hill (1,100 feet), WRJ
5:52 a.m. Twenty-two minutes before sunrise. The air is a cool fifty-eight
degrees, with a south-southeast wind whispering at four miles per hour and
occasional gusts reaching twelve. To the east, above the New Hampshire
skyline, the clouds are softly ruffled. Elsewhere, the overcast sky lies
taut as a drumhead—a long, sleepy dawn broken only by a barred owl calling
from its hemlock throne. Plumes of river fog rise and curl like aqueous
smoke from a dozen phantom campfires.
Summer is visibly draining from the hills, leaving streaks of red and the
first glimmers of yellow among the tired green.
*Department of Auditory Transition: *The hum of tree crickets has replaced
the drone of red-eyed vireos, laying down a softer, smoother backdrop for
thought.
6:06 a.m. Ovenbird—the first I've seen or heard in a week—works the ground
beneath the aspens and maples. It pauses to call: a loud, off-key *chip.*
6:29 a.m. A single crow heads west, cawing.
*Department of Contrasting Voices: *A common raven, perching out of sight,
calls and calls—a stationary broadcast to an unknown audience. Nearby, a
brown creeper scaling a pine trunk gingerly whispers its presence.
*The Morning's Roster, eighteen species: *Myrtle warblers, many and active,
rummage among the hardwood leaves; black-capped chickadee; tufted titmouse;
white-breasted and red-breasted nuthatches; American goldfinch, chattering
flocks; blue jay; song sparrow; chipping sparrow; red-eyed vireo (calling,
not singing); gray catbird; lone northern house wren, in rhododendron
shade, loud as ever; mourning dove; northern cardinal, maple red.
Hummingbirds move like erratic electrons around the feeders. They come and
go, always chasing—never a dull moment.
Gray squirrels along oak limbs loosen raindrops.
Broadwings perch-hunt from electric lines and roadside limbs along the
meadow edges, keeping low beneath the canopy, seldom wary. I saw three
yesterday, four the day before—three of them high in the air, circling and
calling, lifted on columns of warm air until they reached the peak, then
folded their wings and slipped south, one thermal to the next. Vermont to
Texas to Costa Rica to Colombia, obedient to the old pull of the season.
