-Henry David Thoreau
Melting, everything dripping and trickling. Could this really be an early end to winter? Probably not. But the birds certainly were celebrating something this morning! Singing, calling, swooping from tree tops. In the area I like to call 'The Hedgerows' there were all sorts of birds I didn't recognize, maybe just passing through, maybe finally arriving after a long journey. One kind was tiny and loud, and flew in a noisy fluttering flock. The other was larger, about the size of a dove, light brown with black and white markings under and on the wings, silent and elegant. It felt special, walking there, the slushy melting snow underfoot, Kiki with her nose to the ground and wet ear-tips, inspecting the edges of the creek now roaring with water. For there were birds, birds everywhere, and after the lonely quiet of deep winter it was a lovely feeling to see and hear these little winged beings, and share the refreshing morning air with them.