The hawks that return each spring to our wooded ravine are back. We've heard their wild, piercing cries as they spiral the warming skies. They will nest again and once again, produce offspring. The small, furry wildlife in the ravine will once again fall prey to their insatiable appetite, feeding their young.

Crows have also returned in their numbers, roosting in the trees, mindful of opportunities. They peer down at us having noted our routine and swoop down to capture the treasures that we leave behind for the squirrels and the chipmunks, and the chickadees who also take advantage of such opportunities. They're amazingly clever birds, those crows, for we have witnessed them cracking open peanuts not only with their bills but by thrusting them forcefully against branches.

And the pileated woodpecker, busy looking for insects and grubs under the bark of trees, taking its toll on healthy-looking pines as well. A beautiful creature with an anguished cry, looking like a primeval, evolving bird.

We had two robins in our backyard, one standing directly atop the little peak of the roof, looking like an inanimate object in its stillness; a beautiful ornament of spring.