The month of March is the most frustrating time of year for me, and it seems to be worse this year than in years past. I would even welcome “mud season” gladly, since it would mean an end to the ice, dirty snow, and below freezing – even below zero – temperatures that have persisted longer than in recent years.

But there is one thing that has provided light and hope and begun to banish the cabin fever I’ve been feeling. It’s the birdsong I was startled to hear through closed windows the other day. Let the weather be uncooperative for the moment; the birds know that spring is near, and there is no holding it back.

It was a group of house finches that started it. The pugnacious little males with their ruddy heads and chests were singing at the top of their lungs, eager to begin the rites of the breeding season. I opened the window wide – damn the cold air – to listen to them, and in the distance I heard the sweet whistles of a tufted titmouse, the raucous cawing of crows, and the frenzied chirping of house sparrows. Unwelcome guests the European house sparrows may be, but at that moment their voices sounded so cheerful, so full of life, that I could forget for a moment they were aggressive invaders.

The cardinals have serenaded me on several mornings, and in the late afternoons I’ve heard the soft, sighing coos of mourning doves. When I look out my kitchen window, I see two of them – already paired – sitting side by side on a branch of the maple tree. I wonder if it is the same couple that resided there last year.

I had observed their attempts to build a nest; a flimsy one it was, located in a precarious position, and subject to the not-so-tender mercies of the gray squirrels in the immediate neighborhood. Once the tree had leafed out full, I could no longer see the nest’s location, so I was never sure if it was successful – and I never noticed any young. Maybe this year the doves will get lucky.

I’ve even started hearing the spring song of the black-capped chickadee, a clear, whistled, “fee-bee,” that invoked images of budding trees and the fresh, light green color of the season.

Woodpeckers have added their drumming to the vocalists, and the combined sounds produced a sweet music that gave my heart wings.

Now, despite the continued cold weather and the predicted snow, I will go out in search of more signs of the coming of spring. I hope to hear the whimsical song of the brown creeper, a bird whose plumage is designed to camouflage it against the tree trunks upon which it forages. Nevertheless, it is a creature of exquisite beauty, and its lilting song always makes me smile.

Goodbye cabin fever, hello spring!

Chris Corio, a volunteer at Fields Pond Nature Center in Holden, can be reached at fieldspond@juno.com