Hey tweets, Winter warred with spring yesterday at the Fill, as a raw
wind thrashed the brown grasses and gray clouds threatened to drop
hail. The lake was choppy, and all the joggers who braved the day
wearing shorts sported legs chapped red with cold.

Remembering the Finnish saying, "There is no bad weather; there is only
bad clothing," I dressed in three layers of REI thermals and set out to
find spring. It was not obviously present, but there were unmistakable
signposts for those who could peer through wind-tearing eyes: American
Goldfinches in newly yellow plumage, Yellow-rumped Warblers getting
ready for the far north by brightening up their yellows, Common
Mergansers staging on the lake; the Tree Swallows arguing over who gets
to nest in the snags and who is stuck with the human-made houses; the
Violet-greens whizzing around at knee height like kids at the bumper
car ride.

But there were equal signs that winter was hanging on: a Lincoln's
Sparrow still foraging in the weedy fields; Pine Siskins in the
poplars; the huge flock of American Wigeons still huddled on the main
pond. And the wind, and the cold.

I set up my camp stool on the shore of the secluded pond southeast of
the dime parking lot, and decided to freeze there until a green heron
or a virginia rail appeared. I figured if I sat there until June, both
the birds and the warm weather would be bound to show up. I certainly
couldn't move until then - too stiff and cold.

And then, right next to my head, I saw a little shape climb up a willow
sapling. It gripped one slender willow wand with all its toes, flung up
its beak, and poured forth an aria: "Witchety, witchety, witchety,
witchety" (song by Father Time, lyrics by Mother Nature). It was a
Common Yellowthroat in full breeding plumage. Not for him the hoar of
winter - he was bright sunshine itself. The Fill melted before my eyes,
and spring was here.

Also of note: Barn Swallow (first of the year at the Fill);
Ruby-crowned Kinglet (singing); Ring-necked Pheasant (parading); a
little herd of Cacklers on its way north (been here a couple of days
but not much longer); two Dunlins (day before yesterday).- Connie,
Seattle

constancesidles at gmail.com