The world holds its breath through winter. Finally it’s time to exhale, and with that exhalation comes the first notes of the Spring Chorus. Birds across the Northeast are warming up their vocal cords before spring begins in earnest.
Flowers may be the de facto image of burgeoning springtime, but for me spring is defined not by sight but by sound. My ears are starved in the winter. Too much snowy silence, everything muffled for months.
At the moment, the Chorus is meager: a cardinal or two, a handful of robins, the occasional titmouse. House finches are the early-season standouts, their exuberant song breaking the hold of the dark months on my mood. These birds may have down-and-dirty evolutionary imperatives on their minds when they sing, but that doesn’t dull the symbolic value.
Hearing these tweets and trills lets me exhale too, a sigh of relief. I’ve made it through another winter.