They’re here. At first, it is a single, tentative chirp. Then another. And then, quite suddenly, a full choir seems to convene just outside the bedroom window at an hour that can only be described as optimistic.

It is, apparently, spring. The birds have returned, and they are making it everyone’s business.

So have the daffodils. With all their exuberant, sunshiney beauty. In a triumph of optimism over good sense, these miracles of blossom have once again unfurled from the most unlikely of vessels. Seriously — have you ever looked at a daffodil bulb? Who could imagine that tucking that brown lump into the soil would faithfully return an abundance of blossoms year after year?

A Table for the Birds

The colonial birdhouse was the inspiration for this table. I loved everything about it —the soft yellow colour, the Palladian windows, and most of all, the wraparound porch. What a hoot. I picked it up a few years ago along with the Christmas one that appeared in the Snowland Village Table.

The yellow one I received is a bit different to the one on the website. Mine came complete with flower boxes and a front door wreath, and the windows are six-paned with shutters. But no matter—it’s perfect for the job. I elevated it onto a bark-covered vase and it’s awaiting tenants who are currently circling overhead and assessing the neighbourhood.

The plates, with their delicate branches and quietly perched birds, pick up the pink in the flower boxes.

Rattan placemats bring in a slightly woodland note, suggestive of nests (but tidier), and the yellow napkins are gathered into tiny grapevine wreaths.

Nearby, two small birds in their tidy nest look very cheery. Too cheery for those of us who were awakened at 4:47 a.m by the racket outside the window.

Where Do They Come From?

The journey behind the cheery cacophony is extraordinary. Many of the birds we welcome each spring have traveled hundreds or even thousands of miles to return:

• American robins can migrate from the southern United States or even northern Mexico.
• Warblers, some no bigger than a thumb, can travel from Central and South America, flying across the Gulf of Mexico in a single, astonishing stretch.
• Swallows often journey from as far as Argentina, returning to the very same nesting sites year after year.

Our feathered choristers do not all arrive at once. The earliest arrivals tend to be hardy species like robins and red-winged blackbirds, often appearing while the frost is still lingering. Bluebirds and swallows follow as insects become more plentiful. And the late arrivals, including many colourful warblers, wait until the landscape is fully alive with food and shelter. This staggered return creates a gradual unfolding, a layering of song that builds week by week.

If the smaller birds are the gentle overture of spring — the tentative notes that wake you softly — the geese are the full brass section arriving unannounced. In Canada, where they are not visitors so much as returning landlords, Canada geese begin their northward migration as early as late February through March. You don’t have to wonder if they are back; suddenly, there is a chorus of honks like a slightly disorganized committee meeting.

I will happily sacrifice a few hours of sleep for the joyful sounds of the birds returning. They’re oh, so welcome!

Sources:

• Home Bazaar Birdhouse from Wayfair
• Salad Plates: Cleve Bird and Tree by Red Barrel (discontinued)
• Dinner Plates: Aerin Green Scalloped for Williams Sonoma (discontinued)
• Footed Tumblers: Cherry Blossom Green by Jeanette Depression Glass (discontinued)
• Bird Salt & Pepper Shakers: Pier One (discontinued)
• Yellow Polka Dot Jugs: Home Sense