Here, in that South where birds fly in the winter, the lawns, bare trees, and hedges are a cacophony of twitters, tweets, and caws. And I saw my first robin. Not the first robin of the season (being winter, not spring), but my first robin ever in my life. He is about the size of a mockingbird, although a bit fuller in the chest. Yes, his signature red breast tipped me off to his identity (which I confirmed in Peterson's Field Guides: Birds of Texas). So this is the Yankee's harbinger of spring, strutting around the garden, nibbling here and there. He's not so thrilling as a cardinal. But I'm glad to have him spend his winter vacation with me. Maybe next time he'll bring his friends.