March 18, 2007

  The advent of spring has nothing to do with the weather or with the calendar really. This morning it was bone-chilling cold, although the equinox is very near. A fresh layer of clear ice covered the open water of the marsh.  It was just a few days ago that the old winter ice had finally retreated to the cat-tail edge.  The new pane of ice was just enough to support the weight of a large male mink as he gingerly picked his way across the surface. He had announced himself moments ago as he crashed through a patch of paper thin shelf ice. The brief dunking sent him back up onto the firmer surface to continue his journey.   As he disappeared among the cat-tail stems, a curious Red-wing Black bird watched from above, but showed no alarm.

  The Red-wing wasn’t terribly worried about the potential predator.  He was far more concerned with the matter of fence building. The male red-wings had arrived around the first of March. They were now laying out territories in preparation for the arrival of the females. The birds vie for space by calling and displaying to rival males.  His song, therefore, is more akin to a stream of profanity and threats rather than a bubbly font of joy. He let out a distinctive “Ook-ka-leah-a” call (expletive deleted) and winged his way to my side of the marsh. Other males responded in kind.

  Upon arriving at a cat-tail stem positioned between me and the bright rising sun, he ignored me as thoroughly as he had the mink.  Puffing up his rich black feathers, and flaring his wings to flash his bright red epaulettes, he opened his mouth for another measure of “Ook-ka-leeeeeeeeeah-a.”  At the point of reaching the “leah-a” part, the sun highlighted a puff of steam coming out of his throat.  It was a sinuous feathery puff that dissipated as quickly as it was issued.  Several times in succession the scene was repeated – each time with the puff to accent the last half of the declaration.  Then he left for another portion of the marsh.

  As many times as I’ve heard the call of this marshland bird, I’ve never been treated to this sight.  Seeing a bird’s breath is a rare and fleeting thing, and up until now not something that I ever thought of. My breath vapor formed a thick mammalian cloud in the crisp air, while his was as light and airy as the feathers that covered his body. I had seen a breath of spring.