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Spring starts with the simplest of music, liberated once again after months of cold and darkness.

(Photo by Tom Houlihan/
The Chronicle)

It’s just a few sweet notes, articulated overhead. But when you hear them, it’s clear the winter is just about over.

The cardinals are back.

Not that they have ever really gone away, of course. Like us, they are tough animals capable of dealing with snow and ice, the polar vortex and a seemingly endless collection of gray, freezing days.

As the days grow longer, though, the cardinals show us why they are the birds that we probably love the most. They are the first at the feeder in the morning and the last as evening falls. The males show off their crimson feathers, a display of natural color unparalleled in our northern climate. They are polite at the bird feeder; other birds may show bullying tendencies but cardinals take their turn, then make room for somebody else.

And, as spring approaches, they sing.

I am not sure why cardinals don’t sing during the worst of winter. Maybe, like us, they are in total survival mode and mostly concerned with making it through the cold months alive and intact.

Like us, they are creatures who respond to sunlight and longer days. About a week ago, I heard the cardinal’s song for the first time in 2015 and it made my heart jump.

I’m also not sure what the male cardinal’s song is all about. It’s hard to believe he is saying a whole lot with those few notes. I’d like to think he is singing to his mate, telling her how happy he can make her, how he can build the best nest and bring home the plumpest beetles and the juiciest berries. I’d like to think it’s a love song of sorts – we are used to seeing cardinals as couples and they appear devoted to each other.

Whatever the meaning, it is pure pleasure to hear those clear, bubbly, whistled notes at the end of winter.

We get a lot of birds at our feeder. There are plenty of sparrows, a couple varieties of finches, and chickadees, nuthatches and mourning doves. At various times – and especially during the spring migration – we get more exotic species like Rose-breasted Grosbeaks, Carolina Warblers and Baltimore Orioles.

For the last four or five years, a male and female Mallard have returned to the feeder. They first appear in late May or early June. Around dinner time, they land in the southwest corner of the yard, then make their way to the feeder. She eats the seeds that have fallen on the ground, sometimes for as long as a half hour. He solemnly stands guard – more on that in a minute.

I don’t know how ducks find their way back to the Homewood-Flossmoor area year after year. Or what navigational tools they use to get back to our house. I know — it is impossible to tell if they are the same birds. But each year their behavior is unchanged, and they look to us like the same Mallards.

A while back, we started calling them Perdita and Pongo, after the two main canine characters in “101 Dalmatians.” As I said, the male appears to stand guard while Perdita eats, or relaxes in the middle of the yard when she’s had enough. Sometimes a third duck, another Mallard, appears. He is clearly interested in Perdita and makes rude advances toward her. We call him Raoul. Male Mallards are notoriously promiscuous – I am not making this up – and we have seen fights in our yard between Pongo and the unwanted spare male.

Still, our favorites are the cardinals. In recent weeks, we have seen as many as a dozen at the feeder at one time. They are, as I said, generally well behaved. Not a Raoul in the bunch.

The cardinals are always a treat for the eyes. But hearing them sing their spring song makes you happy to be alive, especially after all the cold and dark.

Every year they let us know. Better days are ahead. And soon.

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