Without even knowing the date, I could tell Spring had officially arrived when I saw the first Robin hopping around the back lawn in search of a juicy worm or two. I thought about the fact that we see fewer Robins in winter because they are conscientiously less conspicuous (although some of them do migrate short distances). They gather into groups that prefer rural areas, or regions where there are few people, but available food.
In spring the Robins are more obvious because they are moving back into more populated areas. The flocks break up in an activity called " breeding dispersal." Robins are not community nesters. Each pair has it's own territory. This results in the Robins being more obvious to the casual observer because they are spread over a large area.
I had little time to ponder this as a raucous party of European Starlings demanded my attention. Perched together in their customary flocks, I followed their less-than-melodious calls to the treetops and witnessed nearly 50 of them congregating in the nearby oaks. Whipping out my camera, I was able to capture their silhouettes against the overcast sky. The effect, pictured above, is that of an abstract painting.
The only thing that distracted me from that ruckus was the jazzy honking coming from even higher up. Looking straight up into the sky, I spotted the Canada geese, flying in their telltale arrowhead formation. They may be the bane of every park groundskeeper's existence, but I always welcome them back. They are a harbinger of long days of light past 7 pm, soft seasonal breezes, fat raindrops and lush, flowering plants of all shapes and sizes. I smile as I watch them make their transitory trek across my little sliver of sky, thinking, Good to see you again, old friends.
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