This morning I drove by 100 Mile Marsh in the gray dawn half-expecting to see one or more Canada Geese standing on the still frozen surface. But, other than a few muskrat push-ups, like headless birds crouched along the shoreline, all was quiet.

It happens to be early Sunday morning, Valentines Day. There are few cars going by, so I decided to park in the mall parking lot across the highway from the marsh and listen. I hoped to hear the forlorn calls of early-morning Geese that my eyes overlooked as I drove by the marsh. The only call I heard was that of a Raven, not quite the hoped for harbinger of spring.

I went into the grocery store and emerged a moment later. The stretch of ice across the highway held not a single Canada goose. Yet, there was a perfect Canada goose sky; dark clouds, moist and scudding away to the northwest always make the best backdrops for flying Geese. But no Geese flew.

I carpooled to the store on 99-Mile Hill, and then insisted on being dropped off along the road just east of the highway, so I could listen and look for Canada Geese while walking back to my car.

The highway traffic was light enough that I could hear Red-winged Blackbirds calling in the cattails on the south side of the marsh. I stopped to listen. I'm aware of about a dozen Red-winged Blackbirds over-wintering around town, but I could hear rather more than that quiet dozen. Perhaps their numbers swelled in the past week, or the original flock was becoming much more vocal.

I walked towards the car and passed a lady peering into a dumpster. We said quiet hellos. I had my eyes on the ground searching for coins uncovered by the vanishing snow, but continued to listen for the sound of a Canada Goose. What made me think that I would see or hear a Canada Goose today?

In recent weeks one mild day has followed another, and I've fielded many queries about early returning birds. My pat reply is always "They're smart not to come back early. It's only February. Perhaps smarter than we think." I've convinced myself that any joy I might feel at seeing an early Robin would be overshadowed by horror if the weather turned cold and it perished. What a thoughtful person I was.

But today, in a sudden reversal of everything I've said during these last mild weeks, I am the one rummaging around for any signs of spring - and this only February 14th! Perhaps, what I have is not a mere wish to see a Goose today. Perhaps, it is more scientific; it is a feeling that I might see a Goose today. Yes, that's it! I'm not tired of a relentless - though mild - winter; I'm sensing spring on its way, and it will all begin with a sighting of that elusive Canada Goose.