I’m not sure about you, but in the middle of the work week I just started to feel exhausted. Early mornings, long drives and sad self-made lunches can just take some of the fun out of life. Then there is the stop at the grocery store on the way home, which is one of those simple, mundane and excruciating little chores that I’m sure we all love with equal verve. Raise your hand if you get the idea I’m trying to summon from our collective human experience.
Then, there comes the spring letdown. For a moment we hear that today is the first day of spring and we are all infused with a momentary rush of energy. Like a young child packed to the gills with Halloween candy we experience euphoria and we find ourselves deliriously happy at the prospect of the change of seasons. But, as is the case with that candy-induced high, there comes the inevitable crash. Our visions of green grass, warm sunshine, flowers and spider webs in the meadow are dashed against the jagged rocks of reality. It is still cold, the wind can be quite raw, and I even heard a meteorologist use the S-word for an upcoming forecast.
So it was with a sort of tired resignation that I associate with much of adulthood that I got out of my car at the grocery store. I had been listening to the confirmation hearings of our most current Supreme Court nominee on NPR and I was feeling more than a little despondent when I killed the engine and opened up my door. Then, quite suddenly and remarkably, I was transported to an entirely different reality when a wave of birdsong came crashing into me; a soothing, restorative rush of something pure and joyful in the world.
The birds doing the most singing were red-winged blackbirds, but there were also American robins adding a note or two into the chorus. But what really got my attention was the gathering of robins on a large swath of lawn next to the parking lot. These birds were quietly exploring the cool, thawed and damp ground for worms that were finally able to come up to the surface after months of being locked underground. There is just something that smacks of optimism as a herd of these little prospectors combs the fragrant earth in search of a tasty morsel. To see those vibrant, living birds hopping across the grass while other birds sang from the treetops was so refreshing that it actually caused me to stop and stand in the middle of the road; mesmerized and completely consumed with joy.
At that point the thought of going inside became even more excruciating than before, but I had to go. I couldn’t stay in the parking lot because I had to get home and write this column for you. In I went, out I came and then I got back into my car and made the last leg of my journey home. On the way I saw ducks and geese flying in the sky and this will only increase as the smaller ponds thaw and the ducks have a lot of water to explore. At one point I saw a pair of mallards who looked absurdly happy in a melt water puddle in a field. The size of a small kiddie pool and only inches deep, you would never find a more self-satisfied pair of mallards in the world. Pure joy.
But the most interesting bird sighting on the way home came when I was less than half a mile from my driveway. Large open hayfields sit right next to the road and the phone poles provide perfect perches for the local birds. As I moved along the fields I noticed a small shape up on one of the wires and I guessed that it was one of the mourning doves that seems to enjoy sitting out in the open. But as I got closer and closer to the bird I saw that the angle of the tail was all wrong. This bird had a more upright posture than the mourning dove and I eventually got close enough to confirm my suspicion.
This was no mourning dove. This was an American kestrel! A small, beautifully-colored falcon of North America, the kestrel is a bird that I should be able to see all throughout the year, but in my neighborhood they seem to vanish in the autumn and then they reappear in the spring. Consulting the list of bird sightings that I mentioned last week, I discovered that once again this species had arrived right on time. The fields are about to burst into life and once again someone is watching for signs of voles and mice in the brown stubble. Let the drama of the hunt begin!
So, dear reader, take heart. April will provide us with tantalizing hints of what is to come and by the time May arrives we will all finally be able to live the dream we have been dreaming all winter. The lilacs will bloom, the hummingbirds will return and mornings can be spent sitting in the warm sun while listening to birds sing with the greatest energy and enthusiasm of the entire year. We are almost there. Go about your chores, do all of the little things that you have to do and know that spring is about to put on the show we have all been waiting for.
Bill Danielson has been a professional writer and nature photographer for 24 years. He has worked for the National Park Service, the U.S. Forest Service, the Nature Conservancy and the Massachusetts State Parks and he currently teaches high school biology and physics. For more in formation visit his website at www.speakingofnature.com, or head over to Speaking of Nature on Facebook.