Spring in February ... at least it feels like it with four consecutive days in the 60s. I pull into Whispering Hills at just the right time to hear a migrating killdeer calling "kil-deeah" as it flies over.

A relaxed calm surrounds me as I walk in the ravine. A turkey vulture soars overhead; a red-bellied woodpecker searches for food in the hole of a tree. No wildflowers have sprouted yet. The water in the creek has a soft voice. Only the wind acts hurried.

An eastern bluebird sings "chur-wi" in the barrens. I head in that direction to see if it has any avian company. A butterfly flies up from the grass and quickly disappears into the sun. I can't relocate it to see where it lands.

The fluttering silhouette was either a question mark or a comma. A mourning cloak is the other early-season possibility, but they stay closer to streams.

I walk the road, hoping to find a more cooperative butterfly. They usually go to sunny damp areas when they come out of hibernation. One flies at my approach. It lands on a rock in the road, turns its back toward the sun, slowly fans its wings and then holds them out flat to soak up the warmth.

The comma butterfly is orange with dark spots and has a dark olive body. The hind wings are edged in violet and have a row of yellowish spots.

Today, Feb. 18, breaks my record for earliest butterfly by two days. In five years I've only seen butterflies twice in February, and they were both mourning cloaks. In 1993, I didn't even see a butterfly until March 27.

Commas are common butterflies in woodlands and along brushy roadsides across the eastern United States and Canada, south to the Carolinas and west to the Great Plains. The fall generation hibernates in hollow trees and similar refuge, and can be seen on warm days in the winter. They feed on tree sap, decaying fruit, carrion and animal droppings.

Another comma lands four feet away, keeping its wings open. The brown pattern on the lower surface of their wings mimics a dead leaf.

Comma butterflies have a silver comma on the underneath side of their hind wings; question marks have a silver question mark. Question marks have proportionately longer tails which are easier to distinguish than the punctuation marks.

A woodpecker hammers behind me. Five gray squirrels play follow-the-leader in two neighboring maples. Golden-crowned kinglets fly in short loops to catch insects they disturb from clumps of dead leaves.

Thickening clouds slowly fade the shadows. After a picnic lunch and short nap I check to see if the butterflies are still sunning along the road or if they have returned to their winter hideaways.

No butterflies this time. They know spring isn't here yet and emerged just to enjoy the warm, calm day too.

Kathy Phelps is a freelance nature writer and illustrator who resides in Harrsiburg, Ill.