Little by Little, Returning

And so the dance begins. It starts with a pair of geese, not a skein or a flock or a "v", just two magnificent Canadas paddling in a pool of melted river in the sunlight.

It continues with a Sharp-shinned Hawk etching wide circles in the sky over the same stretch of river and emitting a short, sharp, joyous cry now and then.

A drowsy groundhog perches on a fence post and looks around in disbelief. No doubt he (or she) is appalled by all the snow still on the ground and is considering going back to sleep for several weeks. There should be much more grass showing by now.

In a nearby spinney, three glossy deer shuffle their feet and drink in the morning, their breath sending up clouds of steam in the cold air.

Not far away, juvenile male turkeys (jakes) are strutting their stuff and proclaiming their superiority, gobbling, puffing up their plumage, spreading their tails and dragging their wings along the ground—they are doing the turkey version of what I like to call "the antler dance". The birds are too young to mate, but they are practising their courtship and dominance displays for next year and (no doubt), they are being critiqued by their assembled fellows. The performances are hilarious.