Elation!

the flowers appear on the earth;
the time of the singing of birds is come,
and the voice of the turtle* is heard in our land;   Song 2:12 KJV

And there they are!  The shoots of the daffodils rising from the earth, the robin entertaining me with song.  Oh, yes, it is the song of the robin, yet not the same song he sings a bit later, but rather a loud welcoming of the new season. The mourning doves are fluttering back and forth from the ground to the eaves, their wings whistling as they flit.  Yes, the construction of the nest is already underway.  Unfortunately for them, they shall be evicted, for they have chosen to lay the twigs in the gutter.  Not acceptable.

I have observed over the years that the dove is rather thoughtless in its management of its domicile.  First, the selection of its location is often inappropriate (gutter) or careless (low-hanging branch, easily accessible by cats and small boys.)  Second, the construction of the home is quite haphazard, careless, almost, as though the poor things are so anxious that they cannot take time to construct a proper nest.  (Adolescent behavior.)

And yet for all that, the race continues to survive year after year.  Perhaps if they were more attentive and careful, the breed would overrun the earth, and thus nature protects us all.

The sap riseth in the birch, yea, and drippeth on the ground, leaking from the fissures created by the ravages of winter winds.  High in her branches, in all his flaming red glory, the cardinal percheth.  He screameth his song, "Wheat, wheat, chew, chew, chew, chew."  And eagerly he awaiteth my planting of the flower seeds so that he can gobble them up, should I carelessly leave them atop the soil.

Happy vernal advent!

*Turtledove.  In Jamesian English, the given translation is appropriate.  Scholars agree that modern English would identify the creature as avian not reptilian.