While the robins and cardinals have been singing for weeks, there was a certain irony this morning that the first somber tune of the mourning dove wafted through our neighborhood on the coldest dawn in more than a month. One of the most distinctive melodies of spring and summer, the soft, melancholy song of this bird is, for most of us, associated with balmy weather.
The latest Canadian front, combined with clear skies and dry air, had dropped our overnight low to 8 degrees F. Nevertheless, stirred by the lengthening daylight, the mourning doves are singing and their breeding season will soon begin. Having spent the winter in Missouri, they are well adapted to cold weather and, not inclined to check the thermometer, they carry on with their parental duties, oblivious to the ice and snow.
Frigid air and frozen ground make it feel more like January than late February but the season moves along, ruled by the sun. We know, intellectually, that the tide of spring will soon take hold; wild creatures, on the other hand, sense the change from deep within.
