The birds have sprouted.

Spring has arrived and so have the birds.  The park is full of them and the first one that caught my eye and ear was a small bird, the avian equivalent of a peasant child in Les Miz, dressed in tattered grey but with the voice of an angel.  He was singing his heart out as you can see.

Other than geese, the red-winged blackbirds are the most numerous.  They’re loud and not particularly afraid.  Some trees appear to be bird trees, with a good crop in full bloom and voice.  Last year, there must have been a nest close to the path and one of the parent birds would dive bomb me as I walked.  I talked to several other who also had fly-by’s, which were more than a little disconcerting.

But what gladdened my heart the most was spotting the first heron as I approached the dam.  As soon as I stopped, it kept its eye on me.  I alternately stood still and slowly moved down toward it, trying to get a slightly better iPhone photo. Eventually, it flew a bit further down the river and I continued my walk, satisfied that spring is truly here.