from the Ninth Wave Arts caretakers

The red-winged blackbirds have arrived. They’ve begun their yearly gathering around the water cooler (the old well), chatting about the winter and exchanging notes on what’s to come.

Not far away, the mourning doves carry on in the parking lot, picking at the grit and offering their soft murmurings to the collective. In keeping with last month’s rhythm, the woodpeckers hold down the beat—the downy, the hairy, and the pileated each sharing in the percussion.

Cardinals, blue jays, juncos, grackles, chickadees, finches—and now robins—are weaving in the melodies.

The occasional hawk, eagle, and raven send their solo lines across the whole soundscape. Geese add to the composition with the motion of their wings through the wind, their voices calling overhead.

There is a full arrangement underway here—a clear indication that another wave of the season has arrived.

A month ago, there was a sense of the station tuning in, the signal just beginning to come through. Now, the great bird-land orchestra has arrived in earnest, carrying what feels like an ongoing festival in recognition of the great melt.

All this acoustic activity stirs the quieter ones as well. Skunks and bear are moving again. Raccoons grow bolder as the warmth returns. Chipmunks dart and dash. The deer shift their movements, dancing from winterlands toward summerlands.

The trees are beginning to bud, and small green shoots press up through last year’s leaves. Subtle tremors in the larger plants signal what is near. If it hadn’t already been noticed, it cannot be missed now.

Spring is here.

The way it is greeted offers a suggestion.

There may be an invitation here to join in—to bring a song into harmony with the orchestral turning of the seasonal wheel. Perhaps it is the collective sound itself that carries things forward.

Is the celebration in response to Spring, or is Spring the response to the celebration?

Either way—there is something here to enjoy.