Juncos have never been my favorite birds. Not their fault. My prejudice. Maybe it’s the grayness of their  plumage. Maybe it’s the fact that they are birds of winter. I just never liked them. Until this weekend.

This is the season in which every day is a possibility for birders. Hummingbirds have been sighted in Texas. Bluebirds have started to claim birdhouses. Mockingbirds are frisky and active; one did a spot-on imitation of a red-bellied woodpecker. Every unfamiliar song can be the sign of a new arrival on the wing.

Then, a wonderful, musical trill. A sweet, brilliant, gentle sound. A dong that I never would have expected from the throat of a junco. But a junco it was. And I’m grateful to the little guy for the change of mind.