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“Familiar songbirds reappear, perched high above the stark white landscape in those final frigid days of February and March. Their long-awaited songs announce a return to sunny days, with nights still cold enough to freeze in that delicate balance of those elusive few weeks when the sap will run.” — Arlene Stafford-Wilson
Familiar songbirds reappear, perched high above the stark white landscape in those final frigid days of February and March. Their long-awaited songs announce a return to sunny days, with nights still cold enough to freeze in that delicate balance of those elusive few weeks when the sap will run.