Another Dawn in Paradise

24 July 2024: Hurricane Hill (1,100 feet), White River Jct., Vermont

5:26 a.m. 64 degrees, wind ESE 2 mph. Overcast and dripping (water, not bird song), the air heavy and thick enough to slice. Ten species of birds, including (again) no warblers. Crickets are louder than birds. High summer fade out—even the eastern phoebe and both nuthatches are silent. Crows have something to say on my way home: one drums, a stick-tapping voice. Blue jays keep to themselves … surprise, surprise, surprise.

Best (only) reptile: female gather snake swollen with young hanging around the raspberries.

No amphibians. No mammals. No sun.

Flowers tilting toward autumn: Jerusalem artichoke, goldenrod, black-eyed Susan. No asters accept for daisy fleabane, which has been blooming since May.

For the first time this summer, the song of the American goldfinch trumps that of the red-eyed vireo. Ruby-throated hummingbirds, each no heavier than a paper clip, buzz everywhere, busily darting around like vogue electrons; fledglings compete with adults—lots of chasing, some joisting and poking—knights errant gorging on and defending sugar water. Heart beating 1,200 times per minute in flight and 250 times per minute at home on the sofa.