Spring Should Be Punctual!

Mother Hen is not, by anyone’s definition, a spring chicken.

Nevertheless, that does not mean that she is willing to wait forever for spring.  There are conventions which need to be followed, timetables that must be met and eggs that must be laid.

“March comes in like a lion, and goes out like a lamb.”

Now here is a perfect example of a time-honored principle. The rule is, March is allowed to begin all nasty and cold, but it must end up sunny and warm. If Judge Judy were in charge of the weather, dang it, Mother Hen would currently be basking in the gentle breezes and cheery light of early April. Judge J would tell the weather forecasters to quit peeing on MH’s lovely yellow leg and telling her it is raining. There were flippin’ flakes flying through the air the other day, and Mother wants to see some accountability!

“Mad as a March Hare”

Seriously, can you blame the bunnies for being a bit POed at this point? If there is anything madder than a March hare, it is an April rabbit with frost-bitten ears.

“Spring to life”

What this is supposed to mean literally is that Spring brings new life, ergo anything coming to life is “springing.” Cute, isn’t it? Well, it would be freaking adorable if the eggs for this year’s brood could incubate. Keeping those suckers warm is worse than a fulltime job at the present. Shift one feather to the left and before you know it, egg #1,782 is colder than a snake’s belly on a frosty morning. At the rate this is going, Sonny, Pia and Biff are going to have to hatch next year!

“April showers bring May flowers”

Hey, you meteorologists out there! “Showers” mean rain, okay, so cancel that order at Home Depot. Show Mother Hen some love and call up a wee sweet sprinkling of tiny droplets to wake up the tulips, and quit dumping frost all over the place! The birdies are up to their sturdy little beaks with frozen food.

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven.”

Here Mother Hen brings in the really big guns! This is a quote from the Bible, people, Old Testament even:  Ecclesiastes 3:1 The Big Guy Himself says that the seasons should be on time, for heaven’s sake, or at least something like that. Mother Hen has the greatest of respect for her Creator, and so should the weather, don’t you think? Absolutely!  Right now April is blowing a raspberry in the direction of the Almighty, and she should know better. Don’t be surprised if we have a short Spring, and it will be all April’s fault. You read it here first!

Robins and Spring: An Exclusive Mother Hen Weather Report

 (Translation from Robinspeak provided by MHN Translation Services)  

 “It ain’t Springs ‘til the fat robin sings.”

Grandma Hen, may she rest in peace, used to say that every year about the beginning of March, when there would be a thaw and all the chicks would get all hepped up about winter ending. She knew that in Canada – even here in the southernmost part – the weather plays hide-and-seek  until at least the beginning of April.

Spring is no lady, you see. In fact, she is a dreadful tease.

This year, even the robins were fooled.

Two of Mother Hen’s distant red-breasted relatives were quarrelling on the coop-yard fence posts yesterday about that very thing.

“Walter, I told you it was too soon to come North, but noooo…’the groundhog said’ you said…”

“Grover Groundhog is a top-notch authority on climate change, and he stated unequivocally that it would be six weeks until spring. Six weeks: February 2nd to February 9^th, February 9^th to…”

“Don’t you dare start counting on your feathers again! Look around Walt, and tell me what you see.”

“I saw grass just the other day, and the daffodils were starting to…”

“NOW Walter, what do you see NOW?”

“Okay, so it is a bit white, but I’m sure that by next week it will be spring.”

“By next week I will have frozen half my tail feathers off, Walt. Half! I haven’t even had a chance to start a nest!”

“Gladys, I’m sure you will be fine. Robins are a hardy species who have lasted thousands of years, since the days of our ancestors…”

“Don’t you dare start a history lesson with me, mister! You want to hear about thousands? I just flew thousands of miles with a belly full of eggs, I’m due any time, and I want spring now!”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Mrs. Gladys then puffed up, spread her wings, and took one more shot.

“You call yourself a leader! There’s an election coming up, and I am hereby announcing my candidacy for Head Robin!”  She then achieved lift-off.

“Hormones!” muttered Mr. Walter.

“I can still hear you! “

Now, some of you more delicate hens might make a case that Mother Hen should not have been eavesdropping, or more accurately, fence post dropping, but she could hardly have avoided hearing the screeching and squawking outside when her head was resting against the coop wall.

Anyway, a diligent reporter must always be alert for the latest news. Who knows, they could have been spies for the Bunnies United Delivery Service (BUDS).  One never knows, does one?