I made the mistake of giving up on running during the icy months. Despite my best intentions, I didn’t substitute regular indoor exercise. But self-recrimination leads nowhere.

The last few mornings, the birds have sounded like spring. Cardinal songs are lovely but their incessant, randy singing can get a bit annoying. Blue jays’ musical tones are wonderful little surprises. But my favorite is the black capped chickadee. Its song always reminds me of the wilderness, so I took off onto the trail this morning for my return to running, and with the hope that the birds would provide a sound track.


I didn’t make it very far, but beside a pond I saw a movement in the bush. There it was, a small bird, perhaps just a random little brown thing. Then its small beak opened and out came the remarkably clear “yoo hoo” of my chickadee. Its camouflage is remarkable. Look how its brown body blends into the background, its black and white head mimics the light-dark of the branches and the spaces between.

Cry havoc and let spring the new season!

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