We live on a small farm and when spring comes you don't need a calendar.
Two weeks ago when I shut down the car and opened it's door...I heard the birds. And, they were chirping again in the morning as I left.
Yesterday, the frogs were croaking loudly from the pond though it was bone cold here and snowing enough to close Snoqualmie Pass.
It happens like clock work. There is a sound and smell and hope of spring. There is an awakening set to an eternal clock.
During the Great Depression veterinarians were working. People valued their house pets. Maybe people are different now. Or, maybe the very poor never did take their pets to a vet in the 30's.
Now, people come to the countryside to dump their cats. We have been feeding a stray that came by. (I write this with some trepidation. King County might say it is mine. I will say it is a stray. I will say "take it then" and then they will kill it!)
Two weeks ago another stray came by. The two cats fought over the bowl of food on the porch so we put out another bowl. (This was against my husband's advice...I think he said this more than once :o) This week two more cats wandered to the porch.
Theses are all tamed household pets. They cry for food. They are being dumped in the countryside to fend for themselves. These cats better know how to catch mice! (Not to worry, the first stray took down a rabbit! He/She? has claws.)
Spring and the depression...you know them by watching the animals, human or otherwise.