Old Man Winter
BY BILL THORNLEY
Your days are numbered
On a frosty winter morning around 5 a.m., I looked out at the still moonlit landscape. Long shadows stretched across the meadow. A pair of small deer, spooked as I exited the house, scampered through the snow. It was beautiful, but as an owl offered a drawn out ahhhhhh-ooooooo-ahhh, it hit me … it was cold! I pulled down my stocking cap and exhaled a big cloud of white, shifting breath. I knew it was the gusting wind that caused me to shiver, not the actual temperature. Still, cold is cold and a shiver is a shiver.
A bald eagle watches intently, scanning a field in late winter and hoping to spot an unwary mouse or squirrel.
But we can take comfort in the fact that Old Man Winter’s days are numbered. Since December 21, we have been picking up daylight, and it is starting to get more noticeable. Do we dare to let our minds wander this time of year, to let that word “Spring” cross our lips?
Springtime? It will come soon. It always does. And soon, a new generation of wildlife, like this baby robin, will show up on the landscape.
We’ve gotten through December, January and February, and when you think about it, March is a fraud. It boldly struts in, pushing February off the calendar, but March isn’t the tough, nasty winter month it pretends to be. It’s a month of transition.
February, a time many refer to as the “Dead of Winter,” is beaten. Yet it leaves an impression. In February chickadees flit about here and there, traveling from bush to bush, greedily munching on life-sustaining seeds and dried berries. It seems amazing these tiny bundles of energy survive with but a few feathers to protect them from the sub-zero nights.
Sometimes nature offers a nice surprise. This well-muscled albino buck has shed his antlers, but stands out even against the late winter white snow background.
Late afternoon brings the filtered yellow light and deep blue shadows of impending nightfall. Skeletons of aspen trees once loaded with leaves stand naked against the horizon as the final light fades. Night brings a full moon and the temperature plummets, so cold that trees pop and thick breath forms frost on the face of deer huddled under a blown-down pine.
Yet morning does come, and the chickadee breaks into a happy chirping song. In nature, life itself is reason to celebrate, and in the harsh winter, the celebration is day-to-day.
The tiny chickadee is a survivor, weathering the toughest, coldest winter weather.
March offers the first early gobbles of wild turkeys among the pine trees. By the end of March, lakes will be grey and ready to open. March is the month when Lady Spring ever so quietly begins to slip in and clear the snow. We might even get out raking. And that old Weber grill that has been cowering in the darkness of the garage all winter might make it out for the first cookout of the year.
A tiny chatterbox, this red squirrel soaked up a little late winter sun, eager for spring to arrive.
As March begins, the bluejay puffs itself up against the cold and a noisy red squirrel chatters, its tail bobbing as it chews on a small dried berry. Redpolls and grosbeaks shiver against the wind. As March ends, the afternoon sun gets a little heat and the days are noticeably longer.
And then April arrives and nature seems to welcome it. Geese return, and red-breasted robins begin showing up, seeking earth worms as the final clumps of dirty winter snows melt away. The sun’s warmth is soothing.
By the end of winter this wild turkey is looking a little thin as it looks for corn in a farmer’s field.
Buds begin to form on the trees. New life is quick to show itself. A honking pair of Canada geese swim along on the open water, their necks bent low to the surface as they guard their goslings.
In the shallows of now open lakes, spawning walleyes lay their eggs. A ruffed grouse drums in the distance, and comical bear cubs tumble out of the den behind their mother.
And then one night it happens – the magical call of a loon rings out, echoing across the lake. Soon, we’ll hear peeper frogs in the wetlands, and grass will begin to grow.
Yes, I shivered in the cold. We all did. It happens every year. But we can also count on the fact that better days are coming!
As springtime arrives, the deer begin to move more freely as the snow depths decrease.
Bill Thornley is the editor of The Spooner Advocate. He has won more than 100 state and national awards for outdoors writing and photography during his 45 years with the newspaper. A lifetime resident of the Spooner area, he is an avid hunter and spends as much time in the outdoors as possible.