November 6: In the Whites

Even the truck driver

stops to photograph

the roaring waterfalls.

June 14: Cannon Mountain

Typical raven's joke:

as the tram went past

I mistook the birds for bear cubs.

Posted with Blogsy

March 30: Oh the prolonged yearning that spring in Maine provokes

Yesterday we drove to southern Maine for some birding. Something about moving through the landscape never fails to provide inspiration.

Old snow encrusting the fields retains the patterns of a winter's worth of snow-sledding:

Snowmobile trails criss-crossing--
Celtic knots
a spell to unlock spring.

From East Point Sanctuary in Biddeford Pool, in southern Maine, looking west over water, stone, and beach, we could see the White Mountains looming sharp, clear, and snow-covered on the horizon.

White Mountains shimmer--
clinging specter of winter
on the distant horizon.

June 15: Wildcat Mountain

The danger of heights:
I think the wind
whipped my breath away.

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.

November 20: White Mountains

Drove home to Maine today via scenic Route 2, which winds across northern Vermont and New Hampshire. One of the highlights of the trip is traveling above the Mount Washington valley with breathtaking views across shorn farm fields to a full profile of the Presidentials. Although the sky was gloomy with clouds, the peaks were in full view. As I watched crows gleaning in a field, I wondered what they thought about a part of the landscape that was probably higher than they would willingly fly.

Mount Washington's peak
revealed, conversing with clouds.
Crows lie low below.