Yesterday, as close to a spring day as any we've had this unusual April so far, we heard an owl somewhere far off in the forest as we were walking along the ravine trails. We've heard masses of crows and suspected that owls had returned because of the racket the crows were making.

We know that songbirds are returning, since several afternoons back my husband heard the unmistakable spring song of chickadees, and a migrant song sparrow while he was in the backyard yesterday morning with Jackie and Jillie. We have also, on two occasions, seen returning robins. This was such a harsh, icy and snow-and-ice-crusted winter that unlike recent winters past we saw no robins that had decided to remain here rather than head south for the winter.

This is the time of year that migrant birds have traditionally begun their return. Twice there was the long familiar sound of geese returning to spend the summer in Canada from their forays in kinder winter climes. The only thing that is different this year is the welcome all these returning birds have been subjected to, this year. A landscape that should by now have been cleared of snow and ice remains mired in it.

Winter, loathe as every year to depart, was even more stubborn this year. To the extent that none of us can recall any previous spring that has been so tardy. Since the atmosphere hasn't warmed up, the snow hasn't melted entirely to free the ground to thaw out and insects that would usually be awakening and flying about haven't materialized.

Robins are returning to a landscape where the ground is still frozen, worms haven't surfaced, no insects are available and they face starvation. According to a local ornithologist, the unusual cold and snow likely ensured that many of the first migrating birds have died from cold and lack of food. The birds' rush to be the first to claim prime breeding territory in a landscape unprepared to serve their needs has resulted in their deaths.

The ravine is busy with the stalwarts that remain over winter like chickadees and nuthatches, woodpeckers and cardinals, accustomed to fending for themselves, finding food sources where they can, and visiting local bird feeding stations. The hawks that return yearly will soon be seen and if we're lucky we'll see herons and dabbling ducks as they briefly stop over in the creek before continuing on their way.

Now, as we make our way through the forest trails in the ravine we can see spreading areas of the forest floor being revealed on the hillside slopes, though the layers of snow and ice remain firmly in place elsewhere, despite losing some of their depth in this slower-than-usual melting season where days ricochet from cold and snow, to milder and rain.

Areas of melting snow give the forest floor a boggy appearance on either side of the trails. The trails themselves are so well tamped down that the ice remains thick where countless boots have tamped down the successive snowfalls over the winter months.

Jackie and Jillie won't be seeing as many of their friends out and about as they're accustomed to, since fewer people bother coming out because of the spreading ice sheets and the care one needs to take on the ascent and descent of the trails. It is a ravined environment, after all.