It used to be the robins.
The reliable, spunky neighborhood migrant would appear in my backyard one morning, a harbinger of things to come. Hearty Robins have since become more of a common sight in winter here these days, demoting them to year-round status rather than the first in a wave of birds streaming up from warmer places.
Instead, I always look forward to hearing my first Red-Winged Blackbirds. King of the roadside ditch, these short-distance migrants make their name through their distinctive call and fierce territorial behavior. Most runners can tell tales of bold blackbirds attacking them while defending their turf, despite the rather obvious disadvantages in size.
More than any other season, spring feels like a chain of events marking progress.
Daylight gradually marches later into the evening, starting deep in the winter. Snow piles begin to diminish and liquid water begins to eat away at the ice pack that covers our lakes.
Running gives you a front row seat to these benchmarks of Spring.
Biking or running to work, I’d always keep close tabs on Lake of the Isles in Minneapolis. Little to no change for months and then one morning, open water appears where people once skied. The DNR has records of this event for the urban lake dating back to 1912. Clearly tracking spring’s progress isn’t a new hobby for those of us living in the north.
In the neighborhoods, Forsythia and daffodils forge the way as color slowly returns to the brown landscape.
In the woods, violets poke through the dead leaves and tree buds swell, foreshadowing the green explosion that occurs in early to mid-May.
On the bike trail, cyclists and runners pick up their old arguments of who should be where on the path; revisiting the same, unsettled topic like winter never happened.
Everyone is entitled to their opinion on the best season, but it’s hard to argue with the first day of patio season, basking in 60 degree luke-warm glory.
Get out there and enjoy the incremental successes that spring brings. Snowstorms are probably (not) behind us. Nothing but glory awaits. Afterall, it’s only a matter of weeks until we’re complaining about the humidity.
See you out on the trails
John and Kate