After 12 days of snow cover and subfreezing temperatures, I’ll take any sign I can get that spring will come. I heard it just before daybreak this morning in the song of a Carolina wren. It’s been around all year, of course, and I hear its call notes every day. But today it sang its strident territorial song for the first time this winter. It’s singing a week earlier than I expected.
Several years ago, this bird or one of its predecessors built its nest underneath one of my upturned canoes. The stern seat made a secluded nesting ledge. I didn’t lift that boat off the rack until mid-summer after the young birds fledged.