Symbiosis
This weekend, a hint of spring: Not from the temperature, which was frigid, or the daylight hours, which were paltry — but from the robins, who swarmed in to feast on the holly berry. I heard them before I saw them — the beats of their wings and the tenor of their calls, which bring to mind an April morning.
In January robins are not harbingers of spring. They winter here and flock together to forage and roost. But their twittering sounds like spring, so I pretended.
Watching them, taking closeups of them amid the shiny green leaves, made me think about symbiosis. The robins were just doing what they need to stay alive. But their presence was driving me out into the cold sunshine, where, at least that moment, I needed to be.
