Doug Pifer

March sneaks up on me. I still consider it the beginning of nature’s year when the earliest spring birds and flowers appear. But now there’s a somber side to nature’s awakening—an odd, empty feeling, like waking up to discover I forgot to set the alarm clock. Time has passed while I’ve been snoozing. What did I miss and why is it so quiet?

People might say a crow is a crow, but in the Potomac and Shenandoah Valley, when you see a crow it could be one of three different species. By far, the most common is the American crow, followed by the slightly smaller Fish crow. Occasionally a Northern raven will join them. All three species nest here and can be seen all year. But they’re more evident and easier to see in winter.

I saw my first rough-winged swallow when I was a teenager fishing along a creek in western Pennsylvania. I thought it wasn’t much to look at. It had a graceful swallow shape, but otherwise it was plain and dull. Skimming low over water catching insects along with other swallows, a rough-wing lacks their polished plumage and contrasting, iridescent colors. The back, head, and wings are wood-brown and the throat is drab, shading to gray on the chest and sides. The belly is a dirty, brownish white. Only the undertail feathers are dazzling white. The black, shiny bill looks very short, even for a swallow.

Several inches of snow blanketed the ground when I went to the barn to feed the animals. Snow stuck to every branch, stem, and twig, but my eye caught a glimpse of movement in the buffer of trees along the stream. Ducking behind the barn to avoid detection, I glimpsed a red fox about to spring into the air and pounce on a mouse.

Once common throughout the United States, river otters were heavily trapped during the nineteenth century when tall hats were in style for classy European and American gentlemen. Beaver and otter felt was the standard material for such hats. Otter became the ultimate standard for durability against which all other furs were compared.