My mother was born on the first day of spring, as was her father before her. The first day of spring is imprinted in my blood and my bones. It is an ache of longing and a sense of home.
The first day of spring is the warming earth. My feet are warmer now as they touch the ground. One less sweater. A lighter coat. Spring boots. The air fluctuates from warm to cold but the earth is no longer frozen. Earthworms come to the surface, the wind bites less and both my skin and the walls of my house are warmer now.
The first day of spring is the changing song of the morning. The cacophony of birds at first light grows louder every day. The “here kitty kitty” call of the tufted titmice, the three-note rising trill of the red-winged blackbird, and the “FEE-be, FEE-be” call of the eastern phoebe ring out as the sun rises. My bones knew the sounds but my brain had to remember what it had forgotten in the months of winter.
The first day of spring is owls on the fence posts looking tired as they hunt into the early morning, working hard to feed their mates and young in the nests. The northern harrier is flying low over the freshly burned field. The male kestrel hunting alone. All winter he and his mate hunted here together but she too is sitting on a nest now.
The first day of spring is the shifting colors of the sunrise. The haze a warmer orange starting to lose the pink of winter. The fish return to the surface of the lake and fishermen return to the shore. Small swarms of bugs rise from the mud at the water's edge and soon the frogs will begin to sing.
The first day of spring is blue-winged teal, ruddy ducks, scaups, and the other migrating ducks appearing in the coves or large flocks in the middle of the lake. The greater white-fronted geese and snow geese head north overhead, calling my attention with their high-pitched honks.
The first day of spring is the return of the loons whose stay here is all too short. Just a brief stop on their way to their summer homes. For a few weeks, I hope to hear them call at sunrise and pray they will come close and say hello.
The first day of spring is robins and blue jays chasing each other with more vigor. Large groups of birds banding together to scream at an owl or hawk hunting in their midst. A snipe foraging in the mud and the killdeer once again laying their eggs way too close to the parking lot.
My mother was born on the first day of spring, as was her father before her. The first day of spring is imprinted in my blood and my bones. It is a sense of belonging and a coming home. It is a gift for which I whisper, “thank you”.
Snipes really blend in don't they? I love all your photos. You have birds that we don't see in Northern California. I saw a Loon once and we don't have Easter Phoebe, we have Black Phoebe and plenty of them.
I am continuously awed with your photographs. I wonder how you get such clear images of some of the birds, especially the raptors! Wow! The colors, the sense of what is happening, everything is incredible. And your words are so filled with wonder and beauty as well. Thank you for sharing your gifts!