Date: 6/29/20 6:39 am From: Ted Levin <tedlevin1966...> Subject: [VTBIRD] June 29, 2020: Coyote Hollow, Thetford Center
5:10 a.m. 62 degrees, wind NW 2 mph. Sky: cloud clotted, thick, low, and without highlights; columns and tendrils of fog merge with the floor of the sky; visibility curtailed. A thick river of fog traces the course of the East Branch of the Ompompanoosuc. Truncated worldview: vivid green and saturated; leaves washed and shiny. Inside the woods, away from the open road, fairy tale darkness. From crown to ground, rain streaks on tree trunks; some wide, some narrow. Permanent streams infused and on the move; upper gurgles; lower murmurs. But neither approach late April standards and without more rain will likely dry out . . . again.
Birds enthusiastic. Juncos trilling. Thrushes fluting. Black and white warbler whispering. Black-throated blue warblers buzzing. House wrens chattering. Ovenbirds screaming. Catbird, a mockingbird with imagination, inventive and not inclined to mimic, never repeats the same phrase in succession. Crows cawing. Doves cooing. Out of the gloom, barred owl hooting. Chestnut-sided warblers rambling. Yellowthroats whistling. Hairy woodpecker in the uppermost branch of a skeletal birch, muted. Phoebes, distinctly guttural, as though clearing their throats. Tanagers and bittern hushed and hidden. Pewee a dispirited whistle. Jays complaining; chicks beg. June on the threshold July, summer ripening.
Coyote Hollow, my topographic intimacy; a personal panorama endlessly revised and edited by eons by erosion and natural selection. A thousand dramas, big and small; a thousand solutions. Years pass like minutes. Decades like hours. A pileated flys into unmarred emptiness followed by his voice.