What a difference a little warmth and sun make! The mayflowers are in full bloom, small delicate white flowers and green leathery leaves growing close to the ground. The fragrance is heavenly, and I consider no spring to be complete without getting down on the ground to smell them. The trout lilies in the little marshy area in the woods at the park are blooming now. Beautiful yellow flowers with green and brown mottled leaves. The leaves look like the markings on our native brook trout, hence the name. On the sheltered banks near the shore, the first dandelions have bloomed. Many people think of them as weeds, but I love them. The windflowers (or wood anemones) are starting to bud, as are the dwarf ginseng, and bluebead lilies. When the windflowers bloom, there will be carpets of their white flowers, all nodding their heads at the slightest breeze. The dwarf ginseng will make perfect little balls of blossoms, hugging the edges of marsh and stream alike. Bluebead lilies create spots of yellow in the woods, not tied to wet areas like the trout lilies, the shape of their leaves reminding me of rabbit ears. Later, after the flowers are gone, they will form large blue berries that look like the pop beads I played with as a child.

The deer herd at the park is alive and well. We counted four in the woods near the car park. The coyotes may have done us a favor by removing a few over the winter. They are all still in their winter coats of dark gray, but that will change soon enough to the reddish color of their summer coats.

Both pairs of osprey on the bay side of the park are now sitting on eggs. We had the former head of the North Carolina state park system visit last Friday and the male from the island pair performed like he'd been trained. Two fish caught in the course of an hour, one of which he devoured on a tree at the edge of the island in full view of our guest. The eiders are still dotting the bay, the males easy to spot in their white and black breeding plumage. The warblers are making their way back from their wintering grounds and filling the woods with song. And the woods resound with the sound of the pileated woodpeckers banging on trees and making their distinctive calls. It's hard to mistake a pileated for anything but what it is: crow-sized and with a magnificent red crest. When they peck at a tree it sounds as though someone were going at a tree with an axe. The large, oblong holes they make are also unmistakable. Last year, we had a family of them nesting in a dying birch tree near the entrance booth, much to the delight of my co-worker John.