One of the many things I should do, but don’t, is keep a phenology journal, or diary. Phenology is the study of plant and animal life cycles and how these are influenced by seasonal and annual events. As one who spends a lot of time outdoors, interested in the comings and goings of wildlife, you’d think I would. Then I wouldn’t have to scratch my head every

year

and ask: “When

did the robins return last spring?” Or “when did we first hear the mourning doves?”

This annual regret came to me over the past weekend, when I heard the first familiar “cheer-up, cheerily… cheer-up, cheerily” greeting of a robin. Are they early this year? Late? On time? Who would know. It’s a sound so common in summer that we take it for granted. But now, with snow still dominating the landscape, it’s like a bugle sounding a charge for the forces of spring. Reinforcements are on the way.

Some believe it’s the robin that inspired the aphorism “The early bird gets the worm.” But it’s unlikely that there are many places – if any – in central and northern Minnesota where earthworms are readily available now. But that doesn’t phase a robin, because its food preferences are broad.

Fruits are big in a robin’s diet and I expect that within days our two ornamental crab trees in the backyard will be loaded with robins and the quantity of tiny, withered red fruits will diminish accordingly. (For some reason the cedar and Bohemian waxwings that usually visit us in winter and consume many of these apples, apparently didn’t come this year; another reason for that diary.)

Robins also eat such fruits and berries as chokecherry, juniper, dogwood and sumac, so there are numerous dining options both in our backyards and in the wild. In fact, though we tend to think that robins migrate to southern climates for the winter, many travel relatively short distances south. In a mild winter, they may congregate in large numbers in cedar bogs and swamps, not so far away, but where we’re unlikely to see them.

As soon as insects begin emerging, they’ll be on the robin’s menu, too. Robins have also apparently been seen eating very small mammals, like shrews, or small snakes. Guess that’s to be expected, given their experience with night crawlers. Because earthworms are a big part of their diet, robins are particularly susceptible to poisoning from pesticides and herbicides used to control unwanted plant and animal life in our lawns. A good reason to go easy on the chemicals.

I’ve also begun hearing

the familiar “coo-oo … coo … coo … coo,” the break-ofday

call of mourning doves. Even though we often hear them in early morning, it’s the other kind of “mourning” – their call sometimes compared to a sorrowful cry – that has given this dove its name.

Mourning dove nests are typically crude structures made of twigs, pine needles and grass stems, often placed in heavily foliaged locations – like evergreens – for optimum concealment. On the other hand, I’ve had doves nest in an empty flower container attached to a board fence – in plain sight – one of those exceptions that proves the rule.

Though mour ning doves will occasionally eat berries, fruits and insects, their diet is much more focused on seeds of various kinds, including grains, grasses, weeds and herbs. Where patches of ground are becoming bare due to sunlight absorption, under trees and along south-facing slopes, mourning doves will be foraging, filling their crops for digestion later, just as another game bird – the ruffed grouse – does.

Mourning doves are easily startled into flight, recognizable – even when unseen – by the whistling of their wings. They’re fast, agile and evasive fliers, traits that help them elude avian predators and shotguns alike. Their return to huntable game bird status in Minnesota several years ago was – and remains – controversial, but mourning doves are the most abundant and widespread game bird in North America, with a population estimated at 350 million. It’s believed that hunters harvest about 20 million mourning doves per year. Perhaps this next season …

Hang in there

March can be gray and gloomy, a time of dirty snow, leafless trees, brown lawns and leaden skies that spit rain, sleet and snow. It’s a time for optimists, who recognize that puddles the size of small lakes mean the snow will soon be gone. A new pothole means the ground is thawing. Soon the dominant color in the landscape will be green and spring’s earliest flowers will be close behind.

Lake channels, inlets and outlets and rivers will be opening up to provide early opportunities to catch crappies and bluegills. Many species of colorful ducks, geese and migratory songbirds will be arriving one after the other from this point onward.

On the middle weekend of April, just over a month away, the general stream trout fishing season opens. Those who can’t wait and are willing to travel, can go right now to fish the winter catch-and-release trout season in the eight special regulations counties in Southeast Minnesota.

When you keep such things in mind, March seems more like a temporary detour on the road to warmth and outdoor opportunities. You can hear it in the songs of the robin and the dove.