As I write this the remains of Tuesday’s snowstorm continue sifting to the ground. The first part of that old saying about March “coming in like a lion and going out like a lamb” is certainly apt. The vernal equinox is approaching, but it sure doesn’t seem that way.

But there is something that always gives me encouragement and a thrill of anticipation at this time of year. The mourning doves have begun to sing their mating songs. Also, red-winged blackbirds – one of our earliest spring migrants and a true harbinger of spring – have come back to Maine and are slowly moving northward.

There is something about a mourning dove’s long, mournful cooing-“oo-woo …wooo… woo.. woo” – that seems to soften the effects of a cold wintry morning. I imagine it creates the same feelings as, for instance, the sound of church bells in the distance to a deeply religious person. It offers the promise of something more, of something better than the bitterly cold present.

Interestingly, this “long coo” version of this dove’s song is done by males who are trying to attract a female. Once a male does find a mate, he begins searching for a nest site for the female. Once he finds one that seems suitable, he gives an abbreviated version of his song: “oo-woo.” Once his mate inspects the site, he begins to collect twigs and presents them to the female to build a nest.

I once read an amusing account of mourning doves attempting to build a nest during a windstorm. Their nests aren’t tightly structured to begin with; any twigs laid down were immediately blown away. By contrast, some grackles were also in the midst of nest construction in the observer’s yard. These birds figured out that dipping the twigs in water would keep the material together long enough to get a substantial nest built; unfortunately, the mourning doves never caught on to this trick.

My other favorite sign of spring’s approach is the appearance of red-winged blackbirds in nearby marshes and meadows. It is the males that arrive first, several weeks ahead of the females, and begin defining and defending territories from other males.

One early March day several years ago, I was snowshoeing the trails out at Leonard’s Mills in Bradley. It was a bleak, overcast, cold day, devoid of any bird sounds, even that of chickadees and nuthatches. I wondered what on earth had induced me to go out on such a day. Just as I was nearing the marshy skirts of Blackman Stream, I heard the clear, liquid and melodious song of a red-winged blackbird. My heart leapt and goosebumps tingled on my arms. What a glorious sound! In the space of a few seconds, I went from feeling depressed to feeling incredibly energized and happy. As if that one song were a signal, I began hearing the northern forest’s year-round denizens: chickadees, nuthatches, and golden-crowned kinglets called as they foraged among the spruces and pines. I’ll never forget that day.

Spring will come!

NEWS bird columnist Chris Corio can be reached at bdnsports@bangordailynews.net