Nothing marks you as more of an outsider in these parts than being excited when spring comes. Grin and bubble over about birds and flowers and sunny summer days to come, and everyone who’s lived more than a winter here is already measuring out miles in their minds, figuring out who’s closest and will have a neighbour’s obligation to come running with their shotgun when they hear you shriek in the night.

Don’t take it personally if they don’t try to warn you. Watch enough newcomers, soon to be long-gones, roll their eyes at the idea of creeps or bogeymen in the night, and you’d get tired of trying to save fools from fools’ ends, too. Better, then, to just tell them to keep their nicest things away from the door – tell them it’s because of rain or mud or what have you. Really, it’s because we’re waiting for the best pick of whatever doesn’t get smashed up when you’re dragged off into the dark.

Some people spend winter building birdhouses and tending seedlings and dreaming of warmer days. We spend those frigid days of peace building taller fences and better locks. Birds aren’t the only things that blow back into the woods when the weather warms.