Is Spring On the Way?

Across the Fence #487

It appears that winter is making a last stand and trying to hold on to the ground it’s covered since last November. But I’m hoping spring has backed it into a corner. The week you read this story is when spring arrives on March 20th. I hope the sun is shining, snow is melting, and water is running. I also hope this is the last time I mention winter for a long time, because I think most of us are ready to have winter take a long hike off a short pier.

It’s been a winter you’d like to forget if you got your snow blower stuck like I did. Yes, you read that right. I got my big, 24” snow blower stuck this week. After an overnight snowfall of around 4”, accompanied by the usual blowing and drifting, there was plenty of snow to remove from our driveway. That went OK but then I decided to open a path to our LP tank and the bird feeder in the trees beyond the tank. That was a bad decision on my part. The drifts were very deep and crusted on top, with layers of soft and hard snow under that cement-like crust. With a lot of effort and muscle power, I made it halfway to the LP tank. Then I got stuck. I had that sucker leaning at a 45-degree angle. The wheels spun as I tried to horse it out of the situation I found myself in. I couldn’t go forward or in reverse. I pushed, I pulled, I cussed. I got down on my knees to get more leverage and pushed some more. I only succeeded in getting it more bogged down. I huffed and I puffed, and sweat rolled down my face and formed icicles in my mustache as the cold wind continued to blow and the air turned blue as I let Mother Nature and Old Man Winter know what I thought of the wonderful winter they had blessed us with this year. I finally gave up before I had a heart attack, and retreated to the garage to get a shovel. It was either that or leave that sucker buried in the snow until the spring thaw finally freed it from winter’s death grip. 

It would have been quite a Kodak moment to see someone shoveling out a snow blower. Luckily, no one was around with a camera to record that momentous occasion. I finally removed enough snow to clear a path and was able to set it free and return it to the garage. I’m hoping that’s the last time I’ll need to use it this winter, but I’m not going to hold my breath. 

That path I had opened to the LP tank and bird feeders was drifted shut by that evening. I waved the white flag of surrender. Now I’m back to using my snowshoes when I feed the birds. I don’t know if birds can think or if they’re clueless as to how the food magically appears for them to eat each winter day. All I know for sure is they have very good appetites. Except for the chickadees that will sometimes eat out of my hand, most birds get lost until I head back to the house. There are hundreds of birds at our feeders during the course of a day. Most of them are juncos, sparrows, chickadees, cardinals, and woodpeckers of one kind or another. This year even the crows have come looking for a meal. One morning I counted 28 mourning doves feeding on the ground at the same time.

After getting home from work in the evening of the day I got the snow blower stuck, I donned my snowshoes and headed for the grove of trees with birdseed. I was surprised when several pheasants started squawking and took flight. Then I heard the familiar honking of a goose. I looked up and there was one, lone goose skimming the treetops right over my head. It was headed north. I searched the surrounding gray, overcast sky for other geese, but there were none, just that one lonely goose. Where was the rest of the flock? I can’t help but wonder if it got separated from the flock and got left behind. Maybe he overslept and the rest of the flock took off without him that morning and he was still trying to catch up. The flock was probably anxious to get back to the North Country after spending a tough winter down south, lounging around in the sun and swimming in the warm water! 

I hope that goose was eventually reunited with its traveling companions. It was such a lonesome sight as it continued heading north, all alone, in search of his companions, or maybe he was hoping to find spring, just like we are. I think Mother Nature forgot to tell the geese that winter still hasn’t abandoned the Frozen Tundra. I’m hoping that lone goose flying low over our yard; was sent by Mother Nature as a sign to let me know that spring is on the way. Maybe she felt sorry for me, even though it was my stupidity that got my snow blower stuck in the first place. Hey, I’m sorry I called you and Old Man Winter all those names.       

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