We all have favorite signs that spring may, in fact, be on the way. The appearance of robins in these northern climes used to be a reliable indicator. But with climate change, quite a few robins now elect not to fly south for the winter, hanging around up here year round. Robins are still a good indicator of spring, however. When the weather warms up, male robins start Flying While Distracted.
They zoom around, heedless of their surroundings, looking for Mrs. Robin Right. Is she here? How about here? Over here? This is the time of year when robins can be counted on to be so intent on finding each other that they’ll zoom right over Rascal’s leash—while he and I are attached to it and out for a walk. This week, I saw a male robin almost fly into a utility pole. He changed course at the last possible moment, but he didn’t slow down.
The sound of red-winged blackbirds cheers a lot of people. A man walked down the easement steps to Thurston Pond recently, to discover the air was filled with the chrrrrr of red-winged blackbirds, and said, “It sounds like spring!” Friends, strangers, customers at the Thrift Shop have been reporting hearing these harbingers for a couple weeks, now, with looks of delight.
My mom used to look forward to seeing what she called “the new crop” of babies in the spring, new little humans born over the winter and now putting in their first more-public appearances as the weather warmed. I enjoy seeing kids riding their bikes again. It hasn’t happened yet this year, but after a wobbly start in the twenties, yesterday’s temperature reached sixty degrees. So far, only adults are out braving the elements on their bikes, but the kids won’t be far behind.
While waiting, I’ve been asking folks how they learned to ride a bike. The saddest answer so far, from Molly, a Brit, is “I never did.”
Mary, who grew up in this country, didn’t learn to ride a bike till she was in high school. “Why not?” I asked her. And she answered, “I was afraid. In fact, I was terrified.” It turns out that Mary had opportunities to learn when she was younger, but fear held her back. It wasn’t until high school, when she wanted to ride bikes with her friends, that she got out a bike and taught herself the skill.
A neighbor near here cajoled her young daughter to practice bike riding for ten minutes a day, years ago. She didn’t want her daughter to find herself in Mary’s situation. It worked out just fine.
When our fourth daughter was small, her father and I ran back and forth behind her, hanging on to the seat of her little bike while she tried to ride it. Seemingly in vain, although she’d said she wanted to learn. Then one day, she announced she was going outside to ride her bike now. And did.
Our second daughter’s granddaughter learned to ride on of those tiny pushbikes that have no pedals but allow the child to learn the balancing of bike riding. By the time the little wonder was three years old, she’d made the transition to an equally tiny pedaled bike and rode like the wind. As D#1 said, “She’s a muscle.”
I remember my dad trying to teach my older sister how to ride a bike, via the time-honored hang-onto-the-back-of-the-seat-and-run method on our front lawn. I assume this was my sister’s idea, as our dad was a very kind man, but things did not go well and reached the point where crying was involved. Not Dad. My sister.
As she stomped back into the house, I told my dad, “I want to do that. Teach me.”
“You’re too little,” he said, in surprise.
“No, I’m not, Daddy. I can do it,” I responded cheerfully. So Dad, being the kind person he was, gave it a whirl, hanging on tight. And it turned out, I was right. Pretty soon, I was wobbling around the yard under my own power.
I must have come off the bike a few times, but that’s not the part I remember. What has stuck in my mind all down the years is the sense of freedom. The world was mine. Our little neighborhood was small and sheltered and had sidewalks and easy-up curbs. I could go anywhere. See my friends in the twinkling of an eye.
The kids in our neighborhood had many ways to occupy themselves in the milder weather. But the first bike ride each spring was purest joy. Thanks, Dad.
14 March 2025