Listen ... can you hear the sounds of springtime?

In looking through my files* and the echoing emptiness of my aged recollection, I was trying to remember if I had composed a column consisting of this topic. My guess would be that I have, but it's a great topic and a great time of year to lend an ear. (Wait, that rhymes! Give me a second, I might go poetic on this one.) (Nope, can't think of a thing for this column about spring.) (Oops!) There is little doubt that this cold and snowy winter has us all longing for spring, and because it was so cold, and so snowy, it is sure to make our collective appreciation for spring all the greater. Seeing the first subtle signs of spring show themselves is exciting indeed. But so often missed within these visual signs are the sometimes understated, often disregarded, sounds of spring. Here then, are some of the sounds to listen for … sounds that truly say, "Spring has sprung!" So many people will associate the robin as the harbinger of spring. It's not. Moreover, the number of wintering robins this year was astounding. They were everywhere! To the greatest extent, however, they remain pretty quiet during the winter, and even now don't sing a lot, but they have begun to call and squabble. If you want an "early singer" then listen for the northern cardinal. During most winters, males will sing on sunny, late January mornings. This winter, it was more like late February. Right now, it is just about daily. But if you really want a singing harbinger, then listen for the killdeer. They arrived back north a few weeks ago, and let everyone know with their famous namesake vocalizations. At about the same time, those blackbirds that went south for the winter started flocking north. When you pick up their clicky calls, you might look skyward to see hundreds or thousands of them winging northward. Or, if the weather is not favorable for migrating, winging back and forth from a local nighttime roost. In dusky fields, male woodcock have started singing and dancing. Their "peent" call hardly makes them attractive, but their aerial dance makes them amazing, especially since they sing and play percussion at the same time. It is best to listen for them while facing west. After a few plaintive "peents," they take to the air. As they do, their outer wing feathers make a whistling and rather loud vibration. Upon reaching the apex of their fairly random flight, they start vocalizing and then knuckle-ball to the ground, only to "peent" again. I cannot say what female woodcocks (woodhens?) see in all of this, but I, for one, am smitten by it. Somewhat related, Wilson's snipe performs a similar flight dance and song. With them, it is their tail feathers that produce a quivering sound. I swear I am being legit here but do yourself a favor and go on a real snipe hunt this spring. (But don't try to catch them, just listen to them perform.) Perhaps few songs match the spirit of spring as does that of the spring peeper. This tiny frog might have been basically frozen just a few days before filling the night, and so often day, with song. What does it sound like? It peeps! But rarely does it peep alone. In many locations the single peeps of the males mesh into an almost solid cacophony of jangling. (Some say "jangling of bells," but I just say jangling.) If you really want to know when spring finally has the upper hand, then listen for spring peepers. Chorus frogs seem to come in a couple of days after the peepers. So often their staccato calls blend into the small frog chorus. Wood frogs will soon add their 'quack' to the soundtrack. Weeks later, the American toad will add its long ring to the music. (…and you thought only birds sang!) On the warmest days of March and April, the first buzzes of insects can be heard. Most of them are looking for nectar and pollen of early-blooming wildflowers. At some point, midges will come … and come …and come. Calm and clear evenings in May will find droning clouds of them at treetop level. It's a frenzy -- one that often covers your exterior walls the next morning. But beyond the sounds of wildlife, there is a sound that I so long to hear, especially after this winter, and that is the sound of rain. Gentle spring rain. Classic April shower rain. The kind that makes you feel the snow and cold is over, and the watering of the world is reviving the flowers and trees. Yet, with spring rain comes the chance for an even louder sound -- thunder. While thunderstorms can be frightening and even damaging, they are the embodiment of the battle between the cold of winter and the warmth of spring. It is almost as if with each thunderstorm of spring, winter gets pushed just a little bit further north. That's a good feeling! (Count slowly after each flash of lightning until you hear thunder. Each five seconds represents about a mile.) *Now, when I say I had to look through my files, I am proud to say that it was a long and arduous (no it wasn't) trip down memory lane. In doing some math, I came to the realization that a few weeks ago I penned my 500th column for The Chronicle-Telegram. Wow! I can never thank the C-T, or the readers of this weekly piece, enough for allowing me to verbalize my love and concern for our natural world. Thanks! Thanks! A million times thanks! (Any chance at 500 more?)