Maple Ridge gazette january 28 197-

By W. ROBINSON

A few days of mild temperatures can often lead to thoughts of spring even though the calendar tells us it's still only January. Out on the Polder last week the warming sun, following a few days of copious rainfall, had melted the snow and raised the temperature of the damp soil beneath just enough for it to give off the unmistakeable odor of spring. I think the birds were the first to notice it and they responded in the age-old way by “lightly turning to thoughts of love". The Song Sparrow, instead of cheeping sharply in his nondescript winter voice, threw back his head and broke out into the Sweet and melodious notes of his spring song. The chickadees, too, were taken in by the weather and changed from their “chick-a-dee-dee" twittering to their long drawn out two-note call which sounds as though it comes from some other bird, something like the notes of the white-throated Sparrow.

A pair of herons were so moved by the feeling of returning spring that they began their courtship dance in the middle of the road. They faced one another on the pavement, raised their heavy blue wings, like a woman picking up her long skirts, held them up daintily (if such ungainly creatures could possibly be dainty) and, with their long bills pointing skyward, they slowly pirouetted around each other, oblivious to the oncoming traffic.

Unwilling to interrupt the dance, I slowed my car to a stop, cursing myself for leaving my camera behind. Finally, one of the birds came out of its trance and realizing my presence, suddenly became once more the awkward and unco-ordinated bird we know so well and with a very heron-like squawk it lurched into flight and the spell was broken. Both birds flapped noisily over the dyke to the river bank where they presumably continued their promenade in peace.

Over the heavy sedge meadows, flattened by the weight of the forgotten snows, a pair of marsh hawks chased each other in a series of graceful dips, pausing now and then, at the top of the rise, to turn a complete somersault, dropping down, then rising again to continue the flight. Usually the male performs this nuptial flight alone while the female watches from the ground, but occasionally they both take part.

Even a pair of ravens was stricken and sat on the branch of a poplar tree murmering low, Sweet raven talk while one of them softly rubbed the  top of its mate's head with its large heavy bill. The caressed bird slowly lowered its head until it almost touched its feet. We raised a crow once that responded with  similar head-rubbing by closing its eyes in ecstasy and almost  going into a trance. Such is the power of a warm weather in January. Should we tell them February usually brings winter  back with a vengance or should we, too, ignore the calendar  and, like the birds, relax enjoy it?