Signs of spring

Outside, everyone is singing. Including myself on days when I can't resist bringing the guitar out to play in the warm air under blue skies. A month ago I was stopped in my tracks by a red-winged blackbird belting out "cor-a-lee," but now flocks of noisy blackbirds and grackles seem to be everywhere. An American robin that claimed our yard spends his time whistling from various trees. Eastern bluebirds and meadowlarks serenade the fields when we walk Bear on our free mornings.

Even though birds are on the move and green has broken out on the ground, ice still clings on in the shadows and during colder days. We have crocuses and coltsfoot flowering in our yard, but the only signs of native flowers I've seen in the forest so far are the gnome-like hoods of skunk cabbage popping up in and along our stream. These plants are related to tropical species which use metabolic heat to amplify their smell, often one reminiscent of rotting meat, in order to attract their pollinators, often flies. Operating on the principle that it's easier for the forces of evolution to modify an existing trait for a new task than to mutate an entirely new trait, the heat generated by flowering skunk cabbage melts through ice and snow as well as encouraging pollinators to visit.

Amphibians have also awoken. Spring peepers, like wood frogs, actually hibernate close enough to the air to partially freeze, using glucose as anti-freeze in vital parts of their bodies. The chorus of spring peepers has been hard to miss, although actually seeing the tiny frogs requires effort. They gather around the temporary pools that form on the other side of our property from the stream and the wet land around it. Some warm night soon I hope to head out with a flashlight and search for peepers and other amphibians. The problem is that spring has also meant spring cleaning for us - a massive cleaning out of our house in preparation for a complete rebuild. This also has meant that our internet connection at home has gone from slow to non-existent. I will try to keep writing online through this exciting time of new beginnings, but no promises.