Date: 9/6/24 5:10 am From: Ted Levin <tedlevin1966...> Subject: [VTBIRD] 06 September 2024: Hurricane Hill (1,100 feet), WRJ
5:47 a.m.: 48 degrees, wind SE 2 mph. As the world awakens, low clouds skim
above the worn-green landscape, corrugations softened by humidity—duller by
degrees than yesterday. Cloud congestion weaves through the New Hampshire
ridgeline, the output of a thoughtless river; hills poke through like
fog-bound islands. Pastel colors across the east and north, primarily pinks
and yellows, everything else blue-gray or soiled white. The blockade of
sunrise, measured by the songs of crickets and katydids, the hum of
southbound cars. Seventeen species of birds, including two warblers (common
yellowthroat and black-throated green); brown creeper; hermit thrush; a mob
of common grackles, low over the treetops; and a lonesome female
ruby-throated hummingbird, back and forth from lilac to feeder, the pergola
all to herself.
An army of goldenrod and Jerusalem artichokes brightens what the sun
doesn't (which is pretty much everything).
When I left home, the crows at roost cawed in gray light. Disembodied
voices planning for the day:
- Where to go.
- What to do.
- How to spend an early September morning below the flow of southbound
birds and above the shadows of napping owls.
Whatever the crows decide, I support their decision. Coal-black and
brilliant crows (by sheer numbers) rule the valley, conversing,
discovering, raiding, and applying simple solutions to complicated
problems.
