At a certain moment, spring will arrive. Few events are so satisfyingly mathematical. In the Northern Hemisphere, on Monday, March 20, at 4:23 p.m. CDT, it’s still winter. At 4:24, it will be spring.
That’s the cosmic view. But my personal moment of spring begins with the first song of an American Robin.
Not the first sight of a robin, mind you, because a few have been around all winter. Most robins go south in fall, where there's more food. The few who stay skulk in the woods, living on wild fruits.
Here in Iowa, robins sometimes show up in town during late snowstorms. Facebook posts announce, “They’re back!” However, these are probably robins who never migrated. They've been enduring here all winter.
The robin in winter
Sometimes I think the robins of early March look cold and hungry. They’re not singing. Actually, they’re silent as monks.
Wild berries and fruits have been picked over, and food is getting scarce. Until the soil warms to 45 degrees, earthworms don’t rustle in the ground, so robins can’t detect them. No wonder the robins aren’t singing, though they do utter a few mechanical notes that sound sort of like Tuck-tuck.
However, the days are getting longer.
The sound of spring
Flocks of robins come around to the melting pond. They pull up earthworms.
Then it happens — perhaps on a late afternoon heavy with the promise of warm rain.
A robin perches in the Black Cherry tree, clears his throat, and whistles.
Cheer? Cheerily?
He pauses.
I love those first notes, like the violins' bowing as the orchestra tunes up. It’s not the symphony to come. But they’re fresh on the ear. They stir anticipation.
The robin ruffles his feathers. Then he sings.
Cheerily. Cheer up. Cheerio, cheerily? Cheer up! Cheer up!
This is the monk-like canticle that we hear every spring. It is a song heard on every farm, in every neighborhood in North America. On and on it goes, until darkness falls.
Spring has come.
I love this post! Yes, the first singing Robin of the year is the song of the promise of spring. I heard ours in the backyard just a few days ago, even though he's been back for a week. It was around sunset and sounded like a warm spring breeze feels. I didn't move. I just listened and felt honored to be there to hear him.
Listening...
Stopping a moment
From folding towels,
I see a Robin outside the window....
Listening...listening...
Intent to hear
A worm.
How could he??
But I knew.
Focus his key---
Blocking out all else.
In the distance a dog barked
Our Congratulations!
SMK 2021