Stepping outside, the first thing I hear in the gloom is the startled croak of a Great Blue Heron, as if it had standing in the parking lot.
There’s a stiff breeze at a quarter to six, enough to make it a tad chilly even in the mid-sixties. Other than a feeble-sounding American Robin somewhere on the wind, not much else stirs before 6. Several large bats wander home.
Sunrise these days is at 6:19, but it will be another hour until the first rays strike the balcony. The usual birds are up and vocal by a few minutes after six: Cedar Waxwings, American Goldfinches, Chimney Swifts, Barn Swallows. There is almost no real chorus here now, except for Carolina Wrens, a weak Gray Catbird, and a Northern Cardinal; the Song Sparrow has fallen silent or left in the last few days.
Raptors and corvids are up in the air early: an adult Bald Eagle swoops around the entrance to Plummer’s Hollow at 6:05, and a Red-tailed Hawk is already soaring over Bald Eagle Mountain soon after. A pair of Common Ravens takes to the wind.
Just before sunrise, small flocks of robins begin to take off from the nearby trees and head to the hills. Rock Pigeons begin their commute as well. Then, at 6:22, a skein of 90 Canada Geese goes over west to east, calling.
Ten minutes later, an old friend is back. The first Osprey I’ve seen in months soars near the towers, then heads on.
A few European Starlings show up only by 6:46, not long before the first Turkey Vulture. A Black-and-white Warbler sings once, loudly, at the hour, from the confluence trees. Finally, at 7:13 AM, the local Downy Woodpecker shows up, active and vocal as always.
After an hour of departures, 218 Rock Pigeons have commuted from Tyrone over the mountain, and I stop counting when the first one returns. This is the highest total for a full count since last November; commuter pigeon numbers tend to increase gradually throughout the first part of the year, but I’ve never recorded over 300.