OK, maybe
Punxsutawney Phil was right. Maybe both Stonewall IV,
New Jersey’s groundhog, and I got it wrong earlier this
month when we weighed in with our prognostication on
winter’s demise and spring’s imminence. As easy a call
as it was to declare spring had arrived on February 2,
one look out the window any time Sunday provided enough
evidence to the contrary.
But I’m an
eternal optimist. If you can believe the extended-range
forecast, by Friday it’s supposed to be close to
50-degrees and raining. So consider this past weekend’s
record-setting blizzard a mere meteorological
aberration—winter’s last gasp, if you will. There are
plenty of other harbingers of spring that are already
(or were and will soon be again) in the air.
Other
furry critters that didn’t see their shadows on
Groundhog Day have been sighted all over creation; most
notably raccoons and skunks. Their appearance is a sure
sign that spring is just around the corner. (The latter
don’t necessarily have to be seen to have their presence
verified.) Waking up from hibernation, the equivalent of
a short nap this year, they are hungry and looking for a
mate with whom they can settle down and raise a family
in the months ahead.
Flocks of
Red-winged Blackbirds and Grackles will appear later
this month, filling the air with their cacophony.
Cardinals and other song birds that overwinter were just
starting to warm up their vocal cords, their relative
silence morphing into the familiar lyric songs by which
we recognize them. Listen for their return shortly along
with Carolina Wrens and Song Sparrows that will join
them, filling the air with a sweet, melodic symphony.
Migratory
waterfowl will appear en masse on the open waters of
lakes and reservoirs. I have witnessed huge flocks of
common mergansers, hungry from the long journey to their
northern breeding grounds. They will shortly stop over
for a few weeks to gorge themselves on herring and other
small fish that are also waking up from months of slowed
metabolic activity.
And the
smoky bouquet of wood stoves and fireplaces will
grudgingly yield to the unmistakable aroma of grilled
steak and hamburgers on outdoor barbeques.
Spring is
slowly unfolding now, right before your eyes. Daylight
is increasing as the minutes of darkness wane; a subtle
shift by roughly a minute each day that began in late
December.
I feel
like the Wizard of Oz, bellowing at Dorothy and her
three friends; “Pay no attention to that man behind the
curtain!” Ignore all that white stuff outside your
window. The Great Rummo has spoken. The Earth continues
on its course through space. We will shortly rendezvous
with that place in our orbit around the sun where the
hours of daylight will equal the hours of darkness. The
equinox will dawn.
And even
if there are a few more bumps in the road along the way,
take heart: Phil’s controversial prediction was over ten
days ago. Spring is that much closer.
n
