Right after dropping off a load of trash, which, I'm happy to say, included more recyclables than actual garbage, I headed to the nearby trail that would bring me up to the top of Lantern Hill. I walk this path about once a month, and it's become about as familiar to me as my back woods. Given the recent warm spell, I spent much of my trek scanning the ground for flower buds, but even the earliest potential bloomer—the Trailing Arbutus, which will be attracting the first bees in April—was not showing any sign of being fooled by the January Thaw. Indeed, there were very, very few signs of life, plant or animal. But when I had just reached the summit and was heading slightly downhill, I heard a familiar harsh croak and watched a Raven drift right overhead. These soaring birds, which have recently started breeding in the Lantern Hill neighborhood and sticking around through the winter, are no longer saying, a la Poe, "Nevermore," when it comes to living here. Quoth these ravens, "Flying in the shadow of Foxwoods is fine by us."