“I heard a bird sing in the dark of December. A magical thing. And sweet to remember. We are nearer to Spring than we were in September.” I’m reminded of this little poem every single morning, when a Carolina Wren starts singing, sweetening the dreary days. He usually starts with the lovely up and down “chirr” noise and then, if he’s feeling particularly upbeat that morning, he gives us a few rounds of “teakettle teakettle”. (I’m assuming it’s a male; I think both sexes call but only males sing in this species.) It is a true delight to hear bird song “in the dark of December”.