It’s funny how fast things can change in both life and in nature. This has been a week of change and only time will tell what happens next. Coinciding with the change of seasons, these new developments may have gone unnoticed had I not been distracted. I have spent a lot of time outside this week whether driving to clear my head or walking and looking for a way to start fresh. With a pang of sadness I let go of the past and look to the future for a silver lining. One day at ease with everything; the next there is change is on the wind, blindsided by this new beginning.
For the most part I have enjoyed the winter. Winter for me is the familiarity of dark-eyed juncos silhouetted against a backdrop of fresh fallen snow and American tree sparrows that flutter through the bare branches and dried grasses of the winter landscape. It is the shortened days with bitter wind that blows the
snow buntings around as effortlessly as dry leaves. Soon these winter visitors will sense the coming change and begin their journey northward; to mate, to breed, to rear, to begin again. The small things that I have taken for granted and the ins and outs of the daily grind wash away in the melting snow
But just as I prepare to say goodbye to another season, a new batch of old friends has already sensed the change. The days are longer and the weather is becoming milder. The twigs and branches have begun to swell, buds are forced from their winter nap and the ice has receded to open water and flowing streams. The dark bodies with a shock of red and yellow on the wing begin to call from dried reeds and power lines. The red-winged blackbirds are returning.
With them come the grackles, the brown-headed cowbirds and the rusty blackbirds, aptly named for their call that mimics a rusty hinge on an old screen door. In flocks that darken the treetops and seem endless in the clear sky, they return, as if almost all of them at once until there are no marshy areas without the cacophony of calls. For me, it is the return of the blackbirds, all of the black birds, that opens the floodgates to spring and begin the change.
As if released from huge cages and set to soar, the turkey vultures return on March 15. Saturday the 14th we did not see a singe one in the trip from Cleveland to Toledo. On Sunday however, hardly a patch of sky was without them as many celebrated their return in Hinckley. Crows too are on the move, in large numbers at dusk while heading to their roost. Common golden-eye and ring necked ducks are in the open water of the marshes and lakes. Their black and white patterns reflect the gleaming sun making them easy to spot and observe. Double-crested cormorants are returning as well. Their slick black bodies and long bills cutting through the air and water like a knife and their wings spread in the sun while drying their feathers are a sure sign that better weather cannot be far off. American coot soon join them, their white bills a stark contrast to their dark bodies. The awkwardness of their movements and takeoff as they run across the surface of the water with their oversized feet is something that can’t help but to make me smile no matter how dark the mood. It’s almost here.
Other little changes and arrivals are making their debut this week. The first spring peepers began their chorus on the warmer nights only to be silenced when the mercury dropped. The “peent”ing sounds of the American woodcocks in their sky dance to find a mate at dusk and dawn are found in wet meadows around the area. The first snowdrops are up and blooming, setting the tone for the season to come.
It’s almost here, let the change begin and wash away the past. Ready or not, it is happening. I can either sit back and watch it unfold, or I can get out and let it renew my senses and loosen the tense coil that I find myself in. In a word, it is time to “spring”.
For the most part I have enjoyed the winter. Winter for me is the familiarity of dark-eyed juncos silhouetted against a backdrop of fresh fallen snow and American tree sparrows that flutter through the bare branches and dried grasses of the winter landscape. It is the shortened days with bitter wind that blows the
snow buntings around as effortlessly as dry leaves. Soon these winter visitors will sense the coming change and begin their journey northward; to mate, to breed, to rear, to begin again. The small things that I have taken for granted and the ins and outs of the daily grind wash away in the melting snowBut just as I prepare to say goodbye to another season, a new batch of old friends has already sensed the change. The days are longer and the weather is becoming milder. The twigs and branches have begun to swell, buds are forced from their winter nap and the ice has receded to open water and flowing streams. The dark bodies with a shock of red and yellow on the wing begin to call from dried reeds and power lines. The red-winged blackbirds are returning.
With them come the grackles, the brown-headed cowbirds and the rusty blackbirds, aptly named for their call that mimics a rusty hinge on an old screen door. In flocks that darken the treetops and seem endless in the clear sky, they return, as if almost all of them at once until there are no marshy areas without the cacophony of calls. For me, it is the return of the blackbirds, all of the black birds, that opens the floodgates to spring and begin the change.As if released from huge cages and set to soar, the turkey vultures return on March 15. Saturday the 14th we did not see a singe one in the trip from Cleveland to Toledo. On Sunday however, hardly a patch of sky was without them as many celebrated their return in Hinckley. Crows too are on the move, in large numbers at dusk while heading to their roost. Common golden-eye and ring necked ducks are in the open water of the marshes and lakes. Their black and white patterns reflect the gleaming sun making them easy to spot and observe. Double-crested cormorants are returning as well. Their slick black bodies and long bills cutting through the air and water like a knife and their wings spread in the sun while drying their feathers are a sure sign that better weather cannot be far off. American coot soon join them, their white bills a stark contrast to their dark bodies. The awkwardness of their movements and takeoff as they run across the surface of the water with their oversized feet is something that can’t help but to make me smile no matter how dark the mood. It’s almost here.
Other little changes and arrivals are making their debut this week. The first spring peepers began their chorus on the warmer nights only to be silenced when the mercury dropped. The “peent”ing sounds of the American woodcocks in their sky dance to find a mate at dusk and dawn are found in wet meadows around the area. The first snowdrops are up and blooming, setting the tone for the season to come.
It’s almost here, let the change begin and wash away the past. Ready or not, it is happening. I can either sit back and watch it unfold, or I can get out and let it renew my senses and loosen the tense coil that I find myself in. In a word, it is time to “spring”.
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