Spring is coming
by Ian Short
A stroll through my local patch today revealed the early signs of spring.
Two white-tailed bumblebees greet me at the start. I tried to get a look at their bums. Wrens were in song along the river, their homes in tatters after the carnage left by the modern-day coppicing machines.
Then, a butterfly, first of the year: a peacock, who has survived the winter. She distracts me only for a second, as my attention turns to a squeaking in the willows. Goldcrests, on the move.
Redwings are still about, jumpy. They’ll be gone soon. Two buzzards are squawking overhead.
Yesterday I saw a chiffchaff, first of the season. Wasn’t singing.
Outside my office, in a courtyard of the Open University, high in an oak tree, a mistle thrush sings throughout the day. Its loud song reverberates around the courtyard.
I watched it a few moments ago and it went silent as a low aircraft flew by. It got spooked and flew to another tree.
Then a tortoiseshell the day after. But now winter has returned and many of these small things will perish.