There’s something poetic but also pathetic, perhaps, about searching for the first signs of spring on Cape Cod. Our needs and wants are so simple. This is why we even celebrate skunk cabbage, a plant and flower so stinky we named it after a mammal we’d all run from holding our noses if we saw it headed in our direction. And yet, there we are in the very first days of spring-like weather swooning over skunk cabbage like it was a gorgeous, golden sunflower. “Oh, but look at its little lemon- and lime-colored flower hiding in that dark purple hood,” we say as we show our friends, all the while holding our breath. “Isn’t it beautiful?” It’s beautiful as a symbol of spring to come but on its own? Beautiful to the bees, perhaps, but not much else.
There are pussy willows and the first robins, of course. We all celebrate those as harbingers of what we hope is to come. The robins, most of which wintered farther south look a bit dull and peaked, though. They scratch the cold, muddy earth looking for the early worms but are not ready to burst into song quite yet. Pussy willows warm our cold wintry hearts with their soft fuzzy promises of better days to come but as flowers they are less than spectacular, you have to admit. If you’re not looking for them, you can easily walk right past them.
At the beaches we keep watch for piping plovers and ospreys and hope to see an oystercatcher or two if we’re lucky. Many of our winter beach buddies have departed for their northern nesting areas so the beach appears a bit bleak and gray, even on the sunniest of days. When we finally do spy an osprey, it is usually an exhausted and thin specimen, resting and probably grateful for a place to sit for a while. There aren’t a lot of fish yet, but the ospreys I’ve seen look like a good nap is going to win over a fish dinner, at least for the first day or two of return.
Plovers, on the other hand, seem to arrive with their feistiness intact. They claim territories immediately and chase all possible interlopers, even much larger gulls and crows.
Walks in the woods are still full of the rusty browns and piney greens we’ve been content with all winter. At least mosses are brightening, teaberry is giving up its old leaves for new ones and inkberry and sheep’s laurel look like they might be waking up as well. These plants are evergreens, but winter can be hard on them. Sheep’s laurel in particular is looking a bit strung out as it waits for consistently warmer days.
And right there is the problem. Nice warm days lull us into thinking spring is really springing. We might see a turtle sunning, hear peepers peeping and the red-winged blackbirds singing. We may see daffodils sprouting, crocuses blooming and other perennials like lilies and irises poking their heads up through the dirt. It’s happening, we might whisper to ourselves. It’s really happening.
And then, boom. Temperatures crash, frost returns to gild the newly grown grasses with ice and the little song sparrows and rabbits shiver in their nests. The marshes are endlessly dull and dreary looking, the water is still too cold for wading, never mind swimming, and the landscape is a depressing gray, even though some shrubs and trees are trying to prove otherwise.
One positive thing about this fleeting and ghostlike apparition we boldly call spring is that we get outside to look for it. We walk the beaches, trails in the woods and paths through the marshes and meadows. We look for newly arrived birds in the bushes, listen for songs we recognize and songs we don’t. We watch leaves bud and unfurl and savor the few blossoms we do find.
We admire the crisp and bright plumage of the gulls and wait by the side of streams and rivers to spot the first herring scouts that will arrive any day now. We count ospreys as they arrive and smile at rabbits hopping by on our lawns. We know they will most likely annoy us later but for now they are cute and remind us that spring holidays and vacations are just around the corner.
Cape Cod springs are the best times to see whales from shore, whether you’re at Sandy Neck or Race Point. Right now, there are a lot of right whales around and earlier this week a mother and calf were spotted surfacing and spouting just off Sandy Neck, easy to see from the shore. Sometimes I think seeing whales almost makes up for no spring. Okay, maybe more than almost. Seeing whales while walking along the beach is about as special a nature sighting as you can get.
It will be weeks before we see any consistent signs of spring, even though some are trickling in now. It’s hard to be patient about so many things, like our vaccines becoming fully activated, our chances to see loved ones in real time instead of on a screen, and our lives slowly becoming more social again. It’s even harder than usual, I think, waiting for spring to be sprung this year. I’m more than ready, though, and I bet you are, too.
Mary Richmond is an artist, writer, naturalist and educator who grew up on the Cape and lives in Hyannis. More information at www.capecodartandnature.com.
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