In April 2018, this robin huddled in the snow. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2018)
THIS TIME OF YEAR, birds sound louder, their voices amplified. Birds are marking territories, seeking mates. Or perhaps they are announcing their return to Minnesota or their survival of winter, even the mild one of 2023-2024.
A cardinal. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2019)
Cardinals trill. Red-winged blackbirds and robins sing in their distinguishable voices, which I can’t quite describe. But I know them when I hear them.
Red-winged blackbird among dried cattails in a pond. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo May 2017)
When I step out my backdoor to hang laundry on the clothesline, I hear the morning birdsong, even above the drone of traffic along my busy street. When I walk at the local nature center, I hear birdsong rising from the woods, the marshes, the prairie. To hear birds singing is to hear the refrain of spring.
From the pages of a children’s picture book… Birds announce spring’s arrival in Minnesota. (Minnesota Prairie Roots file photo 2019)
It’s lovely and uplifting and hopeful. And in many ways remarkable. Here are these small feathered creatures singing spring songs that captivate us with their boldness, their melody.
Soon the grass will be lush and long, like a carpet for robins and other birds. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Each spring, without fail, I find myself listening intently to birdsong as if the song is a new release. In a way, it is. A release from winter’s grip. A release to days that are warmer and greener and teeming with life. Those are the signs, the hopes, of spring in Minnesota.
Cardinal photographed at River Bend Nature Center, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
PERHAPS HE SHOULDN’T MESS with their bird brains. That’s not Randy’s intention when he whistles back at whistling cardinals. But my husband seems to enjoy the challenge, the sport, the act of communicating with the cardinals that frequent our neighborhood.
A bird nest and hatched egg (not a cardinal’s) found in my yard. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo April 2021)
This time of year especially—which in Minnesota means weather that is spring on the calendar but yet sometimes still very much winter in reality—erupts in birdsong. Trees show just the slightest hint of green. Birds sense the shifting season, soon time to craft a nest, settle in and raise a family.
Cardinal at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
Randy recognizes that this boisterous season of bird calls brings endless opportunities to practice his cardinal calls. He doesn’t really need practice, in my opinion. He’s nailed the cardinal’s whistle so well that, if I close my eyes and listen, I can’t distinguish the human from the bird, the bird from the human.
Whether the birds can tell the difference, I’m uncertain. But the cardinals always answer him, which tells me Randy’s mimic of their whistle is convincing.
Barn swallow nests cling to a building at the Rice County Fairgrounds, Faribault. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo March 2021)
I’ve never been much of a bird person, having grown up with rather common, plain birds like blackbirds, sparrows, robins and the detestable barn swallows. The bomb-diving swallows “attacking” me (so it seemed) as I pushed a wheelbarrow of ground feed down the barn aisle is the stuff of nightmares. Those unpleasant memories will never make me a fan of Alfred Hitchcock’s “The Birds.”
Only one bird on my native prairie home place could be considered anything but ordinary. It was not the cardinal; there were none. Rather we had a pair of Baltimore Orioles, which my mom adored. They were “her” birds, a bit of exotic avian beauty in her ordinary farm life world.
Cardinal at River Bend. (Minnesota Prairie Roots copyrighted file photo)
In my current-day ordinary town life world, the cardinal is my exotic bird. A flash of red. A sharp whistle that cuts through the street noise. And a time for me to bear witness to a conversation between man and bird.
TELL ME: Do you have a favorite bird? Any bird stories to share. I’d like to hear.
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
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