July 9: Chilly fog descends after days of heat

No longer sultry--
pulling on my flannel shirt
after heat wave's past.

July 8: Tomato plant

After a day's work
I feel inspired watering
the tomato plant.

July 7: Seen in passing

Observed while driving through the town of Round Pond this evening...

Just before sunset,

old man on his porch, eating

a fat slice of pie.

July 6: Early morning run before it gets too hot

Eighty-two degrees.
After my run, how cool
the dewy bushes.

July 5: Fiona's birthday

My niece turned seven today, and we had a family celebration at her parents' camp on a lake in Union. As we were all feasting with much merriment, a spectacular sunset was bubbling up behind the trees, turning the water pink. Later, the neighbors set off loud by pretty fireworks. And all around the camp, illusory fireflies glittered in the darkness.

Diffusing sunset.
Fiona blows out candles.
Fireflies blink on... off...

July 4: Joy of waking to sunshine on a summer holiday

Sun shining through blinds.

Outside, a runner pads past.

Cat still sleeping.

July 3: Holiday weekend begins

Paul finishes mowing,
picks cherry tomatoes.
Finally, sunshine.

July 2: Entropy

After breakfast--
sweeping peony petals
from the tabletop.

July 1: Summer marsh

This morning I visited Scarborough Marsh with my bird guide friend Derek in hopes of seeing a couple of unusual birds that have been reported there recently: Black-necked Stilt and Seaside Sparrow, both of which breed south of Maine. IF&W biologists were out in the marsh with mist nets carrying out some sort of bird research--as luck would have it, right where the stilt has been hanging out, so we had no hope of seeing that bird, but we watched and waited for the sparrow.

As we stood on Eastern Road, all around us many Nelson's Sparrows sang their odd song, a drawn-out spshhh that sounds just like water dropped into a hot frying pan--appropriate for a humid morning. Blackbirds tooted in the reeds. Sun began to disperse the fog lingering over Pine Point, and darker clouds portending afternoon rain rolled in from the west. Here and there white egrets feed silently in the pannes, while Willets startled up from their nests, flashing the white crescents on their wings. Along the edge of the trail, wild roses perfumed the salty air. A Glossy Ibis flew overhead.

Our patience paid off. Derek eventually spotted a Seaside Sparrow singing not too far off in the marsh. I picked up on the song and eventually got some very good looks at this life bird. Not a bad start to my morning. Then I had to rush north to get in a half day's work.

Anxious Willets flush
from marshy pockets, crying.
That kind of morning.

June 30: Wildcat Mountain

Our birding tour continued with a morning visit to Wildcat Mountain in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. Wildcat ski area faces Mount Washington, and a ride up the gondola to just below the summit can offer a spectacular view of the highest mountain(s) in New England. Fortunately we had clear skies and a warm day for this quest for Boreal Chickadees and other boreal birds. We were even able to see the observatory on the summit of Mount Washington, which had been completely enshrouded by thick clouds on last night's visit, invisible even as we stood near it.

The ski trails were speckled with clusters of white bunchberry flowers. On the observation deck at the summit, we were serenaded by Winter Wrens and thrushes, and later joined by backpackers hiking on the Appalachian Trail, happy to have bagged another peak.

We didn't find the chickadee, but no one complained.

Up the mountainside.
Below my swinging feet,
birds sing in treetops.

Mt. Washington (left) and Mt. Adams, from Wildcat Mt.

June 29: Mount Washington

After last night's late night at Fenway, I was barely awake early this morning when we embarked on a bird tour to the White Mountains, on a quest for the rare and elusive Bicknell's Thrush. The thrush breeds in dense boreal forest, a very limited habitat due in large part to deforestation of its breeding grounds and its winter home in the Caribbean. Here in northern New England they are limited to just a handful of mountaintop breeding sites, including Katahdin, Mount Washington, and Bigelow Mountain. So not only is the bird scarce, but its preferred habitat of impenetrable spruce thickets--combined with its disinclination to jump up and sing from visible perches--also makes it challenging to see those few that are around to be found.

To help us see the thrush, our guide, Derek Lovitch of Freeport Wild Bird Supply, chartered a private van tour that took us up the Mount Washington Auto Road after-hours, which was a treat in itself. We had the mountain to ourselves for a couple of hours, so we were able to walk up a stretch of the road to look for alpine birds like American Pipit, visit the mist-shrouded windy summit (where we couldn't see any of the buildings), and put in a concerted effort to find Bicknell's Thrushes in the appropriate habitat and elevation.

As the thrush's crazy, flute-like song rose from the wall of flagged and stunted spruces, dramatic clouds shifted and scudded overhead, glowing in the day's last light. A combination of rain and sun produced a fragment of a rainbow, visible touching down on a distant peak. We were ultimately rewarded with good looks at birds flying back and forth across (and at one point on) the road. But even before we saw the bird, my spirits were already high; I was most definitely wide awake, maybe for the first time all day.

A single thrush sings
under scudding sunset clouds.
My heart touches the sky.

Visit Freeport Wild Bird Supply for more information on this and other bird tours.
And/or you can read our guide's blog post about this trip.