Walking to work, as the snow and ice is finally melting away, I spotted the very first robin of spring. Growing up, my mom had always kind of thought of Punxsutawney Phil as one of the stupidest ideas of all time, yet as soon as she spotted a robin, she knew that little bird was heralding the arrival of spring. So, being an impressionable and rebellious chap, I get all giddy for both Phil and the first robin of spring.
I let out a girly little gasp and thank god no one was around, because I am sure that it put a little spring into my step. But no sooner than I began to hop along in my merry little way, I noticed a ~second~ little fluttering robin.
“Oh how delightful,” went the little voice in my head, which kind of sounds like Stewie from Family Guy as I relive this, “they must be friends…or lovers. I bet they wintered together in..”
“TWEET” the call rang out.
And at that point I noticed a third precious little robin. Then a forth still precious little robin. Then a fifth and sixth still precious but, man, you never see that many of those, little robins. The next thing I knew, I was surrounded by approximately 35-40 robins, tweeting and hopping and swooping by me. Exit Springtime, Enter Hitchcock. So the little tweeters FOLLOWED me along Tudor Arms Ave for about two whole blocks, divebombing and squawking the whole time before finally taking flight together and flying into the park.

I am not sure what this means for springtime. Not to go all Cassandra on it all, but methinks spring this year is going to be a wee bit full throttle.