Jay in flight with cranberry (Provided photo — Amy Cheney-Seymour)

It is the Monday after Saranac Lake Winter Carnival.

At the risk of being disowned, disavowed or run out of town with a pitchfork and ski pole, as far as I am concerned, the snow can make like Frosty, and melt.

With a proper winter under our belt, we had fun, right? We skied, we skated, we shoveled. We ooohed and ahhed at our ADK snow globe. We snapped photos of branches glazed with celestial precision, glimmering like opals in rose-hued sunrises.

It’s time for flip flops. If only our North Country weather would comply.

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Give it away give it away now

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You may experience four seasons year-round, but I experience four just between December and March.

1. Winter

2. Hopeful Spring is when I purge my winter clothes in 4-degree weather, convinced my act of charity will somehow summon warmer temperatures.

3. Splinter — the weeks of yo-yo weather whiplash

4. Actual Spring — daffodils and song birds, when cold weather amnesia sets in.

Currently, in Hopeful Spring, I have stacks of give-away clothes. One thing I never toss in the bye-bye bag is gloves, which I can’t part with, since only the lefties remain.

Multiple times a day, I do farm chores including fiddly tasks that need fingertip attention. So off goes my right glove to pick, preen or pry. My hand freezes, my brain shuts down and, task complete, I bolt for the house, leaving the glove somewhere along the way.

Between Winter, Hopeful Spring, Splinter and Actual Spring you might incorrectly think the right handed gloves resurface — but they crawl away like The Invasion of the Saucer-men.

So, every year I save the lefties for someday.

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Someday

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Yesterday, when the forecast refused my request for a miraculous thaw, I went for a shuffle ski with a friend. It was her second time skiing, but you’d never know the way she charged down the Bog Trail with the determination of the Delaware and Hudson Train.

If you haven’t had the pleasure of walking, biking, hiking or skiing the Bog Trail, one of the biggest perks are the local avian species. Stunning in gray, black, red and white, you can literally have them eating out of the palm of your hand.

A short way down the trail some kind soul set up feeders, training the local birds to beg like a lab at the dinner table.

Possessing more coordination, balance and good nature than any fledgling skier I know, my friend was surprised when I asked her to stop and put out her hand, filling it with birdseed.

No heavier than a thought, a Black-capped chickadee delicately snatched a seed from her and flitted away. We upgraded our bait to cranberries and a Canada Jay took roost on her hand, as she smiled with glee. In her excitement she dropped her glove, which got me thinking about gloves and birds.

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Try this at home kids

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We don’t have bird feeders at home because most cats kill birds. In winter our cat, a self-identified sloth, ventures outside just long enough to confirm it’s still cold, then promptly returns to the couch. I was confident he would not thwart my newly hatched plan.

“Hi. What are you — wait do I even want to know?” My son asked, looking at the eight leftie gloves I placed at intervals along a trail.

“Wouldn’t it be fun if the birds would eat from our hands?” I said filling the palms with black oil seed.

“Thrilling. Let me know how this works out for ya,” and He of little faith wandered away.

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In which I solve two mysteries

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I hate to brag, but my glove feeding system was an instant success, — with the red squirrel population. The next morning I found 5 leftie gloves devoid of seed and scattered down the trail. Three were missing. It was not winter’s mighty maw devouring my right gloves, it was red squirrels!

I pictured hundreds of fuzzy auburn kits snuggled in goretex-lined nets, which explained our unwavering red squirrel population. Despite a plethora of predators, our red squirrels never seemed to experience natural attrition. Eureka! Two mysteries solved!

In just a few days, chickadees and blue jays were eating from the gloves in the snow. Then I added cranberries to the mix hoping to attract a Canada Jay. Known for their bold tendencies, Canada Jays are also known as Gray Jays, Gorbys, camp robbers and Whiskey jack, an Anglicized version of Wisakedjak a trickster from Cree mythology.

After a week of retrieving, replacing and refilling old gloves, it was time. For the test I had new gloves and a determination to keep them together for all the seasons to come.

I summoned my inner connection with the winged ones, and held my seed- and berry-filled glove to the sky.

If this was a fairytale, five birds would land on my arm and tweet their gratitude. In real life, for a half-an-hour, a motley crew of wary Black-capped chickadees chirped their irritation about the tardy breakfast service. Lactic acid filled my arm and shoulder, but I settled in to wait.

My patience was rewarded when a Canada Jay swooped in for a snack, and fled berry in mouth. That my friends, is how you feather your glove with success!