Al's Musings

The Sweet Sound of Spring

I fill the bird feeders with sunflower seeds, a steady job this winter as the birds have had good appetites.

The winter has been a long one, as all winters are. A Black-capped Chickadee calls “fee-bee, fee-bee.” “Spring’s here. Spring’s here.” A sound heralding the approach of spring is impossible to ignore. The call that this tiny bird uses to declare his territory causes ancient stirrings deep within me. Why does this happen? His call is not aimed at me. At least I don’t think it is. Do these feelings

I have stem from a time when my ancestors were nomadic and moved about with the seasons? The spring calls of birds were nature’s alarm clock to such people. A time to get packing and move to greener pastures.

Or perhaps the feelings inhabiting my head and heart and manifesting themselves in a prickly sensation at the back of my neck are merely the awakening of the gardener inside me, one who has been lying dormant all winter. This miniature ball of feathers has accomplished something that the calendar and countless garden catalogs could not. It has made me feel the change of seasons. I mean really feel the change. I think of gentle breezes and a warm sun. I think of good soil, crumbly with aged leaf compost. In my mind’s eye I can see long rows of leafy green—tomatoes, green beans, sugar snap peas, peppers, cabbage and lettuce. I picture flowers of beauty beyond description. I see all of this in the call of a Black-capped Chickadee.

The chickadee is such a small bird and it is singing a very short song this day. Its “fee-bee” call, one that only the most ardent of nature lovers would describe as beautiful, is for me like hearing “I love you” from a member of my family. I feel loved just knowing that spring is coming.

©Al Batt