Sure, the little guy found a nice, free-flowing spring to spend the winter in. And it’s not likely he’ll have to share it with many other birds for the next month or so. But in a winter that’s seen a surfeit of snow and a dearth of chinooks, he has no excuse for not heading south months ago.
Maybe he took his cue from the horses just up the road. They were standing stoically in the falling snow and bitter temperatures and biting wind. True, they didn't seem to really be all that bothered by it. And it’s not like they could do anything different even if they were. No option to head south for these guys.
Looking at them through my long lens, their eyelashes frosted, icicles entwined in their long winter hair, they seemed resigned to the fact that they would just have to tough it out, that they would have to wait until the weather broke. I could relate as I watched them stand there by a little copse of aspens, their eyes closing as they napped, their hooves making the snow squeak as they shifted their weight. Like them, I didn’t have many options but to tough it out myself.