"Far too often we miss life by doing something that we call ‘life."
― Craig D. Lounsbrough
Finally! Snotty nose and all, I got outside to enjoy the unseasonably warm afternoon at Pope Farm Conservancy. Fifty-five degrees in February feels less like a gift and more like a quiet apology from a planet running a fever. The warmth made the prairie look ready for a change it could not yet
have, its brown stalks standing brittle and tall against the soft sky.
Ask any birder their favorite early spring birdsong and you might hear Red-winged Blackbird or Eastern Meadowlark, but for me, it's the intricate, endlessly variable tune of the Song Sparrow that truly signals the season's turn. But all Wisconsinites know this could easily be a ruse. We have all of March to get through, and winter could easily render a snowy landscape once again. It's a collective exercise in delayed gratification, where we're conditioned to enjoy the thaw without ever quite believing in it.
Next, I headed west along the moraine, hoping to find Eastern Bluebirds.
And there they were, at the end of the long line of oaks ...
Male above, female below ...
A few more shots of the male ...
I felt a genuine sense of gratitude during my digiscoping session; the Eastern Bluebirds were fairly cooperative, and I came away with some decent shots. Full of that quiet joy, I warmed up my macro lens to explore a different kind of beauty, photographing dead prairie plants and their delicate, frozen architecture.
Do you recognize any of them?
Well, that's it for now. I'm just glad I got outside to enjoy the nice weather. It was a perfect reminder of why we endure the long, gray months—for these temporary, beautiful ruses that feel like a promise, even if we know better than to fully trust them just yet.
All images © 2026 Mike McDowell