First Spring Arrivals in February

Everyone measures time by the watch and the calendar, but for some the rhythm of nature is still almost as important a measure. The earth and sky itself has the great cycle of the seasons, from which humans are partly distanced, but which most animals still live by exclusively.

About this time of year, when the days are longer and the sun higher, the birds begin to respond. The male glands swell and produce the hormones that prompt him to song and other displays. Most vocal lately has been the permanent residents, who are already on their nesting grounds, such as the cardinal, the nuthatch, the titmouse, and the chickadee. I wait eagerly for the moment of spring's first arrival, which for me is measured by the first day I hear the song of the red-winged blackbird. That happened yesterday, February 15.

Most years it happens in mid-February around St. Valentine's day. A little research into this holiday reveals that birds are the emblem for this celebration. It was the day when the birds came together to choose mates for the fast-approaching breeding season. Like most of our notions about romantic love, the holiday has its origin in medieval times, about 700 years ago.

Going back even further, there was a pagan festival in ancient Rome in the middle of February, which was a fertility rite. The medieval church appropriated this date and attributed it to a legendary Christian martyr, who was given the name Valentine. For most of the common folk the festival and love itself retained its raw earthy flavor, but for the nobility of that time love became courtly, a more spiritual adoration of "the noble lady."

Besides the advent of song, birds begin to move. The red-winged blackbird has spent the winter just a little to our south, where snow does not cover the ground so thoroughly. The first scouts feel the urge and head north, finding the marsh or wet meadow where last year's nesting took place and declaring their renewed ownership for the coming spring. The females are not here yet, but the song is for their benefit. When that song is heard, it is "first spring." The redwing also spreads his wings and displays the bright red epaulets that give him his name. For ducks such display is more important than the song.

The flocks of goldeneye ducks that can be found on the Connecticut River begin to chase each other and females over the waters, paddling furiously. The male stretches his head forward, then up into the sky, then back so far the bill touches the tail and points into the sky behind him. Finally he jerks the head forward, emitting a harsh raspy cry, and spurts ahead to show off his bright orange feet.

There are other species that ride those warming winds from the southwest in February, and you should look for them now. Already the graceful black sails of the turkey vulture are furled above our trees as this bird glides in search of the rich carrion first created by the snowpack, then revealed as it melts. Notice the wings, held with tips higher than the body as the bird teeters a bit on its perpetual glide, yet never faltering.

Several people have told me they have seen robins, but these birds are not yet moving north. It is just a flock that has been here all along, but is now leaving the fruiting trees and bushes in the wild where it gets its winter food, for the bare patches of softening ground in our yards where worms and fallen berries might be found.

Finally, the bluebird will be heard or seen. Their sweet but gentle calls will fall from a seeming empty sky, but if you look up, you can see them fly high overhead. A few of them stay here all winter, eating the same fruits as the robin, but their numbers are now swelled by birds from the south. Unlike the robin they pair off quickly and look for that nesting cavity during first spring. So celebrate Valentine's Day by putting up that nest box in your yard.