Atop Hawk Mountain, Pa., 2010

Atop Hawk Mountain, Pa., 2010
Photo by R.E. Berg-Andersson

Sunday, January 21, 2018

A Taste of Spring

For a few short moments, I could forget it is just a week after mid-January. The temperature had gone into the upper 40s or low 50s F and the last batch of snow and ice had melted. The frozen soil was turning muddy in parts as I walked our nearly 1/2 an acre, picking up brush and other garbage blown in from other pails and then caught in fencing and snowed over.
Brook, once the ice melted (Margo D. Beller)

There is a titmouse singing its high-pitched spring song. The white-breasted nuthatches are singing their high-pitched, nasal song. They seem to think it is spring. The black-capped chickadees are searching the bushes and tree branches for any grubs or insects foolish enough to think it spring. I see a couple of daffodils and at least one hyacinth has been so fooled, sticking their noses above the defrosting soil.

I leave my property and take a walk. I feel the need to get out now that the ice has melted and the road is merely wet and not treacherous. Just a few days ago local waterways were thick with ice. Along the linear park near me called Patriots Path, the Whippany River was solid ice and you could see where the heavy rain that fell before the recent freeze caused the river to overspill its banks, creating a frozen wonderland.

Today, however, as I walked the water was flowing in the local brook and the nearby dog park had 18 cars parked in the lot and across the road - 18 people (at least) taking 18 dogs (likely more) out in the mild air to let them run around, not minding that their feet (man and dog) were getting mucky.

Whippany River overflow and freeze (Margo D. Beller)
I continued along the road and saw a number of robins flying around, picking at branches and also at the thawing grasses and dirt. Until now they have been living off what they can find, including the fruits left on the poison ivy and other vines or shrubs. (Some need a good freeze until they are palatable.) Now, the robins are looking for protein.

I walked and I was not alone. There are others out walking or jogging along the road. When it is arctic cold and wind chills in the negative numbers, the inclination is to stay in and hibernate like a bear, at least for me. So when it is finally warm and the sun is out, I try to be out too. I want to be part of a greater world, not stuck indoors. (However, I hope the bears are still in their dens!)

One particular woman is walking much faster than I am. I watch her move on, earbuds in, ignoring the world. I was stopped at a pond and saw that in the thawed part there were mallards - first a pair, then (when I moved out of direct view) about a dozen, males and females. And something else, a lone American black duck, a pleasant surprise. Like the mallards, black ducks are dabblers. They will swim on the surface and put their heads into the water to feed. Unlike the mallards, male and female black ducks look alike. So while I don't know whether this particular duck was male or female, I do know I got to see something the woman bopping to her personal soundtrack in her own little world did not (presuming she'd even care).

Ducks on pond - mallard pair and, on ice at left, a black duck (Margo D. Beller)
Reluctantly, I came home through the community garden where lately, for the first time in a while, I've heard the honking of the Canada geese that come down to the grassy field to feed and rest. Where were they during the freeze? Some office park lawn, no doubt. There are lots of those out here in the NJ suburbs.

As I write, the clouds have moved in and it is getting close to sunset, nowadays right around 5pm ET. There will be clouds and drizzle tomorrow, heavy rain the day after. It will be even warmer but then, as usual, once the rain is gone it will turn colder. Soon it will be the end of January. Then it's February. "Spring" is over until the real thing comes along.

When I was born, that particular February day was the coldest on record. I have to remember that when we have these January thaws. They are but a respite, a taste of spring, a reminder that no matter how bad (or cold) things get there is always another chance for a better day.