The Robins are back. Have been. They are already getting fat. I heard them a few days ago. Maybe a week. If it wasn’t them it was another bird that I haven’t heard all winter that got me looking. They showed up rather thin and weak. At least the first few I saw bob bob bobbing around did. It makes me wonder how far they go when they leave and what that neighborhood is like. Do those locals note their comings and goings?
We must have a lot of worms and other such food here for them. Probably why they’re here. Go to where the food is. Like a refugee. Does a war ensue where they winter come spring? Are other more remote birds on the march into that winter haven driving the Robins back hither? Maybe some hibernating Meerkats or others wake up hungry for Robin flesh forcing a hasty retreat back north. Maybe none of the above, perhaps it simply gets too warm.
Snow Geese have been around off and on all winter. As have the Bald Eagles that started showing up in the last ten years or so. One pair likes to perch up on top of the hill in Dad’s old now dead tree. The tree he wanted to be buried under because he swore he died there one hot sunny dry afternoon while he watched his corn crop down on the bottom turn first gray from green then white from gray. During a drought. In other words he saw his crop die and it nearly killed him.
He did get to be buried under that old tree. Sort of. I placed a small branchlet on his corpse at his wake to fulfill his wish. I figured it was more reasonable than raiding his grave to move his body under a now dead tree that may not be there for very much longer. I may have gotten some flack for that had I been caught in the act even though I’d always told Dad that was my intention. He said he wouldn’t care for he’d be dead. Like his tree that died right before him.
But enough of death. Spring has sprung. It’s time for life. Or this part of it anyways. Just ask the red red Robins.
See you then, see you there.