Dear friends,
If you look at a map and find that you live in a temperate zone, you’ll notice that trees and shrub-like entities in your area are hiding their shameful winter nakedness, and that birds have formed poorly-conducted a capella bands. Though the increase in natural activity is not without its downsides, such as the woodpecker making repeated attempts to bore into the wall of my bedroom at 5 AM, virtually all aspects of spring are positive; people are nicer, the ground is softer, and I’m less likely to feel an irrational, primal hatred towards squirrels for hoarding all of the best nuts. Often at work, I will be completely entranced by what I imagine I’m missing outside and will act out my own version of Lost in Space, characterized by my eyes glazing over like body-temperature Krispy Kremes.
I think spring engenders such pleasant emotions because the environment is optimized for survival; not too hot or too cold, fresh water from heaven, abundant food sources, and a notable reduction in random drive-by shootings at Sam’s Quik Shop. When all of our basic needs are met, maybe the parts our brain normally allotted for winter foraging are set free on a Polynesian cruise with personal masseuses and cleverly-decorated martinis. Seeking evidence for this theory, I headed for the one place I knew spring would be in full effect: Duke Gardens. A few minutes into my hike, I spied a female mallard waddling around a calm pond, clearly avoiding a pursuant, green-headed jock. Seeing my chance to both liberate a fellow vertebrate and to gain the opinion of an eye-witness, I headed off the male, leaned over, and gave him the air-microphone:

Me: ¿Hola Senor, como estas? ¿Hay algo que faltas para sobrevivir esta primavera?
Donald Duck: Quack?
M: My apologies, I thought I detected a Catalonian accent. Would you say that nature is providing for all of your needs this spring season?
DD: Quack?
M: Beg pardon. Quack quack quack quack, quack quack quack quack quack quack?
DD: Quack

As I watched the would-be paterfamilias scoot awkwardly off in the direction of his former target, now seductively preening herself beneath a small Japanese maple, I felt that our language barrier had been broken. Clearly Donald would not be so keen on Daffy if he didn’t think the environment would provide amply for his progeny. Vindication.
But as humans, the reasons for our joviality are probably more complicated than just the abundance of survival benefits; after all, if you’re reading this, your prospects for lasting out one season are likely just as good as another, though most of us don’t feel a horns-of-life-grabbing enthusiasm during November. I believe another critical aspect of spring’s awesomeness is the feeling of transition. Most humor is based on realizing the disparity between the expected and the actual*, so when 6 months of naked trees and frosty ground suddenly slam shut with a verdant explosion, it’s not hard for nature’s version of “I’m Rick James, b***!” to put a smile on your face.

*Unsubstantiated, personal theory

Photo Credits:
1. Dream wrecker www.dcwild.com/ backyard.htm
2. Worked for the Corleones http://slightlyremarkable.com/code/protect_your_nuts_closeup.jpg
3. Sanchito http://www.naturesound.org/Bird%20Photos/Mikes%20photos/senor%20mallard.jpg
4. UNITY! http://www.upscaleaudio.com/rare/rickjames.jpg