Metropolitan Diary: Bird Watchers Bond on the First Day of Spring On the first day of spring, I was walking across Central Park, nearing the West Side, in the low 80s just below the Pinetum. It was very still, with a sharp chill holding the bare tree branches fast against a pale blue sky. A woman came walking toward me on the narrow, curvy asphalt path, both of us moving briskly, minding the time. Just as we came within nodding distance, a soft fluttery call drifted faintly down from the high trees. We both stopped dead, facing each other like long-ago friends suddenly rediscovered. Silently we waited for the call to come again. "It's a flicker," I said. "Red-bellied," she said. I love that call. And we moved on.