I heard them for the first time yesterday morning as I was hanging out the laundry. In Shelburne, they filled the field in the early morning, in the early spring, with their call. I loved to be struggling through knee deep snow and listen to them declaring their intentions to raise young in what looked like a forbidding environment.
There are not so many making their declarations in the damp area below our property, but I savor their call, announcing the coming spring.
No robins, yet, and no "cheeseburger" calls from the chickadees.
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