Snowbird

A male robin has been frequenting the crabapple tree behind our house. 

This is what he looked like when he first showed up in January.

He clumsily eats crabapples when the grass is covered with snow 

(as it most often is.)

 When it is cold, he puffs himself up and hunkers down in the sun.

He chases off the white-breasted nuthatches, 

the black-capped chickadees, 

and the downy or hairy woodpeckers when he is near.  

And I've even seen him drive off another male robin.

 I'm not sure when he showed up, 

but since his favorite tree is right outside of our dining room, 

we see him a lot. 

I snapped my first picture of him in the middle of January. 

He doesn't sleep in the tree. 

Some days I never notice him out there. 

Some days he seems to be there all day. 

I'm hoping he has pegged the tree for a nesting site, 

but male robbins don't build nests, 

so perhaps the tree is just one of the look-out posts for his territory. 

Female robins are supposed to follow the males by only a few weeks, 

but although I've seen a flock of robins in the yard on one occasion 

since "our" robins arrival, 

none of them stayed. 

Perhaps the snow on the ground had something to do with that. 

Despite the thick blanket of snow outside, 

spring is definitely "just around the corner."

Our daffodils showed their green, spiky tops last December!

Already the days are longer 

and I must trudge out to the chicken coop earlier and earlier in the morning,

and I close the chickens up later and later each evening.

Already the moon rises big and round behind the barn 

instead of slipping up between the trees in the woods.

I long to hear the trilling of sandhill cranes as they fly over. 

I enjoy the honk of Canada geese down on the pond.

I like the loud chirping of incalculable spring peepers

and the return of birdsong.

I love spring flowers

But I do not look forward 

to the mucky swamp that our lawn will be when it thaws-

and my children will be clamoring to romp in it.

I do not look forward to the return of ticks.

The weeds, autumn olives, multiflora roses, and wild raspberries will take over again.

The tentacles of poison ivy will creep into the "yard."

And all too soon, mowing will begin again.

So I am satisfied to see small signs of spring, 

like "our" robin,

but I have no desire to hurry it along.