Although it was still quite cold in early March, the 'duck-like' notes of the Wood Frogs led me to the vernal pool I had come to survey. As I approached, the calling stopped, but soon resumed with vigor. Passing my seine net through the water, it came out with a dark orange bottom. Once the contents were placed into a container, the thousands of Fairy Shrimp could be seen. A blizzard of activity as these tiny animals scooted around on their backs filter feeding.

The Wood Frogs and Fairy Shrimp are perhaps the best indicators of a vernal pool but there were others. Clusters of white spermatophores were an indicator of unseen male Spotted Salamanders that were hiding in the debris-covered bottom. They arrive before the females, which would be along with the next rains. Another pass of the net filled the container with bright orange Daphnia and Cyclops trailing their twin clusters of eggs. Both of these tiny crustaceans are relegated to a world only enjoyed with the use of a hand lens. Scattered on the container bottom, looking like rice grains, were tiny bivalve-appearing Ostracods, some dappled with deep green coloration.

I checked one other vernal pool and found a near duplicate of residents. Both sites were extremely healthy, and isolated enough so that the frogs and salamanders that are dependent on them for laying their eggs do not have to cross roadways and meet with the typical carnage we see all too often on rainy spring nights. By fall, all would be gone and only dried depressions will remain.

The woodlands were awakening. As I walked the paths there were plenty of other spring signs and a few surprises. A Pileated Woodpecker glided in and went about his work of chipping out the large square notches in a dead hemlock in search for carpenter ants. It circled the tree as I passed and flew off, giving its ringing call. Soon, the nesting tree will be chosen, and calling and building will begin in earnest. In pools formed by rock cutting and removal in the past, the signs of Spotted Salamander activity were again evident. The crisp air smelled wonderful and warm pockets of reflected sunlight along the path were not only welcomed by me but also by a Mourning Cloak Butterfly that flexed its wings several times before coming to a full rest with its yellow edge velveteen wings splayed to the sun.

Hoadley Creek was running at its fullest, and the water mosses (Fontianlis) waved in foot-long deep green banners. In the pond, a pair of new arrival Wood Ducks drifted about and eyed the duck box at pond edge. As I watched the handsome male in its resplendent plumage, bobbing its head up and down and circling the seemingly non-interested female, I became aware of a low 'woof-woof' sound. A sound I knew well!! I hunkered down behind a fallen log and took out my handkerchief. I waved it a few times and sure enough, a yearling otter approached, fascinated by this 'unknown object'. It raised out of the water, 'woofed', flexed its long whiskers, and then slid from sight. It circled back and forth for several minutes until satisfied, then dived from sight and was gone. This is the time of the year when young otter venture from home territories to explore for their new territory.

It would be very hard to live where spring wasn't so well delineated. A shaking off of winter's cover and the venture into a new season. We can be most thankful for areas such as the Pinchot property and all the others of the Land Trust, so generously cared for so that spring can arrive at its own pace, and we and future generations will be able to enjoy its arrival.