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The first full day of spring was Sunday, March 21, 12 days ago. If I did not have that date to remind me the world has turned, there are other, unmistakable, signs besides the singing at dawn of Cardinals and Tufted Titmice.
At 6:30 one morning in late March, I looked out the kitchen window to see a Robin standing motionless in our driveway. The bird seemed to be waiting or watching for something. It came soon. Another Robin flew in, attacked, and for a short time there was a flurry of feathers in the back yard. The battle ended with one bird flying in one direction, the other departing the opposite way.
Later the same morning, I was using the car as a blind and trying to photograph a Fox Sparrow as he made the dry leaves fly with his scratching for hidden seed. A male Grackle flew down from the maple tree and attacked another that had been flipping over leaves on the ground in search of food. There was a violent flapping of black wings as the two tumbled over the ground.
Other Grackles quickly gathered in the low-lying branches of the maple tree and made those curious, lowpitched, clucking sounds comr
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