Male mourning dove shows iridescent patch on neck that distinguishes him as a male to birdwatchers and doves of the opposite sex.  Photo taken January 25, 2014 at feeders on front deck of our home in Apple Valley in Howard, Ohio.  (Photo by Don Comis)

While watching a mourning dove chase a female dove around my feeders today, I was struck by a sudden flash of red, reminding me of the red wing badge of a sexually mature red-winged blackbird.  This confirmed my conviction it had to be a male doing the chasing and taught me that the iridescent spot on a male dove's neck may not be as subtle a signal as I thought.

The "spring" sun had hit the spot just right so it flashed at me from a distance, enabling me to know it was there without me being able to see it.  This makes me think that maybe the female sees it that way all the time?

In any case, this goes on my growing list of my favorite signs of spring.  And I'm finally convinced that the spring robins are here, after seeing 12 robins on a lawn in my neighborhood today.

I know woodcocks are doing mating dances and I've seen bluebirds go in out of their houses.  And I've had a pair of house sparrows building a nest for weeks now in one of my bluebird houses.  I've heard the calls of a pair of barred owls announcing they've picked a territory for their nest.  I know great horned owls were incubating eggs in February.

And a great number of butterflies are going to start flying in April and May in Ohio.  For me, the real spring is in mid-April, based on a memory of when I lived in Ohio in the late 1960s and early 1970s.  I just knew it was spring one day when it was warm and the flowers were blooming at the Mount Vernon Developmental Institute where my wife and I worked.

Barred Owls But No Salamanders

This morning's view of the vernal pool, with most of the ice melted and filled with water from snowmelt and rain. (Photo by Don Comis)

Oz, a barred owl held by Mrs. Vann, a.k.a. Manon Van Schoyck, executive director of Ohio NatureEducation--a private nonprofit organization dedicated to caring for animals, like Oz, that can no longer survive in the wild.  Oz's wild days ended when he got hopelessly tangled in a soccer net.  (Photo by Don Comis)

  
With all the conditions seeming right for a salamander/amphibian migration this morning--temperature in the high 40's Fahrenheit, rain, and temperatures in the 60's yesterday--I decided to brave the rain and check out the vernal pool in Gambier, Ohio.

I had no luck but did scare up a little creature, a mammal that looked like something other than a squirrel.  Since it was just at daybreak and the light was still low and it was running from the river toward the woods, I decided it might be a mink.


I did hear two owls calling to each other--I think they were barred owls saying, "We have a nest here, no other owls allowed in our territory!"

Unless they were chasing me out too, as the mockingbird coupled did again today on my way out.

From the Brown Family Environmental Center's north side, I then drove to the south side to check for the horned owls nesting in a pine plantation.  March lived up to its moon's name, "Mud Moon," as I kept slipping on the muddy and icy parts of the trail, finally falling once, without harm.

I didn't see any owls but enjoyed the magic, if a bit intimidating, pine forest lair.  I also got to see a rabbit running toward me and many birds.

When it was all over, the birds I could identify were, besides the barred owls:  red-winged blackbirds, three song sparrows, a mourning dove, bluebirds, and crows.

Speaking of birds, I'm encouraged by a birdwatcher's e-mail about his hearing the "peenting" call of a woodcock near a school in Dublin, Ohio, about 50 miles to the south of the Brown Center.  That call is the prelude to woodcock's mating "Sky Dance."