It is another rather dreary winter day.  Damn that Punxsutawney rodent I am thinking as I drag The Poodle out into the cold of the early morning.  I’m not in the mood for six  more weeks of this winter nonsense.  I’m trying to be brisk about things despite the cold and my increasingly cranky knees.  As we walk down into a large wooded area with paths to several man-made lakes I am trying to keep The Poodle from stopping at literally every single tree.  Hmm. I am puzzled by what seems to me unusual activity: the ground, covered by heaps of dead autumn leaves, has come alive.  Everywhere I look there are little birds skittering about from underneath the ground cover.  The Poodle seems…