THE ROBIN.twig with seed frondsI loveRobin Redbreast above all other birds. He is a bold, handsome fellow, and one of the sweetest songsters of the grove. When the Nightingale and the Blackcap have gone to their winter quarters in the faraway sunny South, and both the Thrush and the Skylark are silent, courageous Redbreast mounts to the topmost branch of some sodden, leafless tree and defiantly pours out his sweet, silvery notes.Poets of all ages have noticed this peculiar characteristic, and one of them has expressed it very happily in the following lines:“Each woodland pipe is muteSave when the Redbreast mourns the falling leafs;Now plaintively, in interrupted trills,He sings the dirge of the departing year.”There can be no doubt that the conditions under which the bird sings help to rivet our attention upon its performance, just in the same way that the Nightingale gains some of its popularity by singing at night time when other woodland vocalists are silent, and the Skylark by soaring away up in the blue vault of heaven whilst pouring out its far-sounding music.ROBIN’S NESTROBIN’S NEST.Cock Robin has received a great deal of poetic attention, and it is amusing to note how differently the bards have expressed themselves in regard to this familiar bird “that swells its little breast so full of song.” Some of them say it warbles, others it whistles, tootles, carols, chirps, sings, sobs, mourns, and so on.Any boy or girl who has wandered through the woods in winter will at once recognise the truth and beauty of the following lines from Cowper’s “Winter’s Walk at Noon”:“No noise is here, or none that hinders thought;The Redbreast warbles still, but is contentWith slender notes and more than half suppressed;Pleased with his solitude, and flitting lightFrom spray to spray where’er he rests, he shakesFrom many a twig the pendent drops of ice,That tinkle in the wither’d leaves below.Stillness accompanied with sounds so softCharms more than silence.”Numbers of beautiful legends have been woven round the bird. For instance, its ruddy breast is supposed to be worn in memory of the day when Jesus was led forth from Jerusalem to be crucified, and the wee bird perched uponthe Cross and “tried with all its little might to diminish the anguish of the crown of thorns.”ROBIN BRINGING FOODCOCK ROBIN BRINGING FOOD FOR HIS CHICKS.It was an old and popular belief that Robins covered over the bodies of dead men with leaves, hence John Webster’s ballad:“Call for the Robin Redbreast and the Wren,[1]Since o’er shady groves they hover,And with leaves and flowers do coverThe friendless bodies of unburied men”;and the well-known one, “Babes in the Wood.”Although Cock Robin is at all times a bold bird in defence of his rights, and at some seasons liable to be considered quarrelsome and spiteful, he undoubtedly has his good points. For instance, one has been known lovingly and diligently to feed his mate after she had sustained some injury to her bill which rendered her unable to peck for herself, and I have myself watched and even photographed a Redbreast in the charitableact of feeding a family of young Thrushes in the nest whilst their mother was away searching for very difficult-to-find food during a cold, dry spring morning.Male Robins differ from the females only in the facts that they are slightly larger and have rather brighter orange-red breasts. These differences, however, are so very trifling that it is by no means easy for even the practised eye to notice them.YOUNG ROBINYOUNG ROBIN IN ITS FIRST COAT OF FEATHERS.Robins commence to breed in March, and make their nests of bits of dead grass, leaves, and moss, with an inner lining of hair. At the beginning of the season building operations are conductedin quite a leisurely way, occupying as much as a fortnight, but later on no time is lost, and nests are made in a much shorter period.Last spring I watched a female, quite unaided by her mate, who was singing very loudly morning, noon, and night in my garden, build a nest in three days. One morning she carried dead leaves and moss to her home five times in five minutes!Although generally selecting holes in banks and walls where a brick or a stone has fallen out, this species is famed for its apparent love of odd situations in which to breed. I have found Robins’ nests in old tin cans, tea-pots, coffee-pots, kettles, jam-jars, biscuit boxes, cocoanut husks, fragments of bottles, and clock cases, and have seen them in bookcases and other places inside the much-used rooms of dwelling-houses.Robins lay five or six eggs, as a rule, although as many as seven, and even eight, are occasionally found in one nest. They are white or light grey, blotched and freckled with dull light red. Sometimes the markings join each other nearly all over the shell, and at others they are collected round the larger end.FEMALE ROBINFEMALE ROBIN BRINGINGFOOD TO HER YOUNG.Young Robins, when they grow their first coats of feathers, do not have red breasts like their parents, but are dressed in varying shades of brown that render them very difficult to see when sitting still, amongst the lights and shades of a hedgerow. Directly they have donned their second coats of feathers, which happens in July and August, and become like their parents in appearance, they commence to try to sing. It is said that when they have been bred near Nightingales they borrow notes from that sweet-voiced bird, and introduce them into their own songs. I can readily believe this, because I have heard a Redbreast imitate the song of a Sedge Warbler so well that I was completely deceived until I saw the vocalist.It is unnecessary todescribe a Robin’s song, because almost everyone has an opportunity of hearing it, and seeing the bird at the same time. Its call and alarm notes, however, are frequently uttered when the creature is not visible. The former is a rapidly repeated metallic soundingtit-tit-tit, and the latter a plaintive, long-drawnchee, generally uttered when some intruder is near the nest.The species feeds principally upon insects, and is especially fond of spiders, which are sought for in the cracks of old walls, mossy banks, and on the bark of trees. All boys and girls who have read “Pilgrim’s Progress” will remember how Mercy wondered and Christiana was disappointed to learn that Robins fed upon spiders instead of breadcrumbs, and the lesson Interpreter drew from it.Robins differ individually in character almost as much as human beings. I have been vigorously attacked by a courageous mother bird of this species because I dared to look at her young ones in the nest. On the other hand, some individuals are quite timid and shy, and will quickly put a safe distance between themselves and the most harmless intruder.Occasionally one meets with a Redbreastliving a bachelor or old maid existence at some secluded farmhouse high up amongst the hills or on some lonely treeless island round our coast.I have a male member of the species in my garden that always superintends my digging operations, and varies his search for upturned grubs by standing on a clod within a few inches of my spade and singing me the sweetest of little songs. May he long live to do so![1]During the middle ages it was a generally accepted belief that Jenny Wren was Cock Robin’s mate, and curiously enough, many people still think that Wrens are female Robins. Of course such is not at all the case, as the birds belong to widely different species.woodland scene
twig with seed fronds
I loveRobin Redbreast above all other birds. He is a bold, handsome fellow, and one of the sweetest songsters of the grove. When the Nightingale and the Blackcap have gone to their winter quarters in the faraway sunny South, and both the Thrush and the Skylark are silent, courageous Redbreast mounts to the topmost branch of some sodden, leafless tree and defiantly pours out his sweet, silvery notes.
Poets of all ages have noticed this peculiar characteristic, and one of them has expressed it very happily in the following lines:
“Each woodland pipe is muteSave when the Redbreast mourns the falling leafs;Now plaintively, in interrupted trills,He sings the dirge of the departing year.”
“Each woodland pipe is muteSave when the Redbreast mourns the falling leafs;Now plaintively, in interrupted trills,He sings the dirge of the departing year.”
“Each woodland pipe is mute
Save when the Redbreast mourns the falling leafs;
Now plaintively, in interrupted trills,
He sings the dirge of the departing year.”
There can be no doubt that the conditions under which the bird sings help to rivet our attention upon its performance, just in the same way that the Nightingale gains some of its popularity by singing at night time when other woodland vocalists are silent, and the Skylark by soaring away up in the blue vault of heaven whilst pouring out its far-sounding music.
ROBIN’S NESTROBIN’S NEST.
ROBIN’S NEST.
Cock Robin has received a great deal of poetic attention, and it is amusing to note how differently the bards have expressed themselves in regard to this familiar bird “that swells its little breast so full of song.” Some of them say it warbles, others it whistles, tootles, carols, chirps, sings, sobs, mourns, and so on.
Any boy or girl who has wandered through the woods in winter will at once recognise the truth and beauty of the following lines from Cowper’s “Winter’s Walk at Noon”:
“No noise is here, or none that hinders thought;The Redbreast warbles still, but is contentWith slender notes and more than half suppressed;Pleased with his solitude, and flitting lightFrom spray to spray where’er he rests, he shakesFrom many a twig the pendent drops of ice,That tinkle in the wither’d leaves below.Stillness accompanied with sounds so softCharms more than silence.”
“No noise is here, or none that hinders thought;The Redbreast warbles still, but is contentWith slender notes and more than half suppressed;Pleased with his solitude, and flitting lightFrom spray to spray where’er he rests, he shakesFrom many a twig the pendent drops of ice,That tinkle in the wither’d leaves below.Stillness accompanied with sounds so softCharms more than silence.”
“No noise is here, or none that hinders thought;
The Redbreast warbles still, but is content
With slender notes and more than half suppressed;
Pleased with his solitude, and flitting light
From spray to spray where’er he rests, he shakes
From many a twig the pendent drops of ice,
That tinkle in the wither’d leaves below.
Stillness accompanied with sounds so soft
Charms more than silence.”
Numbers of beautiful legends have been woven round the bird. For instance, its ruddy breast is supposed to be worn in memory of the day when Jesus was led forth from Jerusalem to be crucified, and the wee bird perched uponthe Cross and “tried with all its little might to diminish the anguish of the crown of thorns.”
ROBIN BRINGING FOODCOCK ROBIN BRINGING FOOD FOR HIS CHICKS.
COCK ROBIN BRINGING FOOD FOR HIS CHICKS.
It was an old and popular belief that Robins covered over the bodies of dead men with leaves, hence John Webster’s ballad:
“Call for the Robin Redbreast and the Wren,[1]Since o’er shady groves they hover,And with leaves and flowers do coverThe friendless bodies of unburied men”;
“Call for the Robin Redbreast and the Wren,[1]Since o’er shady groves they hover,And with leaves and flowers do coverThe friendless bodies of unburied men”;
“Call for the Robin Redbreast and the Wren,[1]
Since o’er shady groves they hover,
And with leaves and flowers do cover
The friendless bodies of unburied men”;
and the well-known one, “Babes in the Wood.”
Although Cock Robin is at all times a bold bird in defence of his rights, and at some seasons liable to be considered quarrelsome and spiteful, he undoubtedly has his good points. For instance, one has been known lovingly and diligently to feed his mate after she had sustained some injury to her bill which rendered her unable to peck for herself, and I have myself watched and even photographed a Redbreast in the charitableact of feeding a family of young Thrushes in the nest whilst their mother was away searching for very difficult-to-find food during a cold, dry spring morning.
Male Robins differ from the females only in the facts that they are slightly larger and have rather brighter orange-red breasts. These differences, however, are so very trifling that it is by no means easy for even the practised eye to notice them.
YOUNG ROBINYOUNG ROBIN IN ITS FIRST COAT OF FEATHERS.
YOUNG ROBIN IN ITS FIRST COAT OF FEATHERS.
Robins commence to breed in March, and make their nests of bits of dead grass, leaves, and moss, with an inner lining of hair. At the beginning of the season building operations are conductedin quite a leisurely way, occupying as much as a fortnight, but later on no time is lost, and nests are made in a much shorter period.
Last spring I watched a female, quite unaided by her mate, who was singing very loudly morning, noon, and night in my garden, build a nest in three days. One morning she carried dead leaves and moss to her home five times in five minutes!
Although generally selecting holes in banks and walls where a brick or a stone has fallen out, this species is famed for its apparent love of odd situations in which to breed. I have found Robins’ nests in old tin cans, tea-pots, coffee-pots, kettles, jam-jars, biscuit boxes, cocoanut husks, fragments of bottles, and clock cases, and have seen them in bookcases and other places inside the much-used rooms of dwelling-houses.
Robins lay five or six eggs, as a rule, although as many as seven, and even eight, are occasionally found in one nest. They are white or light grey, blotched and freckled with dull light red. Sometimes the markings join each other nearly all over the shell, and at others they are collected round the larger end.
FEMALE ROBINFEMALE ROBIN BRINGINGFOOD TO HER YOUNG.
FEMALE ROBIN BRINGINGFOOD TO HER YOUNG.
Young Robins, when they grow their first coats of feathers, do not have red breasts like their parents, but are dressed in varying shades of brown that render them very difficult to see when sitting still, amongst the lights and shades of a hedgerow. Directly they have donned their second coats of feathers, which happens in July and August, and become like their parents in appearance, they commence to try to sing. It is said that when they have been bred near Nightingales they borrow notes from that sweet-voiced bird, and introduce them into their own songs. I can readily believe this, because I have heard a Redbreast imitate the song of a Sedge Warbler so well that I was completely deceived until I saw the vocalist.
It is unnecessary todescribe a Robin’s song, because almost everyone has an opportunity of hearing it, and seeing the bird at the same time. Its call and alarm notes, however, are frequently uttered when the creature is not visible. The former is a rapidly repeated metallic soundingtit-tit-tit, and the latter a plaintive, long-drawnchee, generally uttered when some intruder is near the nest.
The species feeds principally upon insects, and is especially fond of spiders, which are sought for in the cracks of old walls, mossy banks, and on the bark of trees. All boys and girls who have read “Pilgrim’s Progress” will remember how Mercy wondered and Christiana was disappointed to learn that Robins fed upon spiders instead of breadcrumbs, and the lesson Interpreter drew from it.
Robins differ individually in character almost as much as human beings. I have been vigorously attacked by a courageous mother bird of this species because I dared to look at her young ones in the nest. On the other hand, some individuals are quite timid and shy, and will quickly put a safe distance between themselves and the most harmless intruder.
Occasionally one meets with a Redbreastliving a bachelor or old maid existence at some secluded farmhouse high up amongst the hills or on some lonely treeless island round our coast.
I have a male member of the species in my garden that always superintends my digging operations, and varies his search for upturned grubs by standing on a clod within a few inches of my spade and singing me the sweetest of little songs. May he long live to do so!
[1]During the middle ages it was a generally accepted belief that Jenny Wren was Cock Robin’s mate, and curiously enough, many people still think that Wrens are female Robins. Of course such is not at all the case, as the birds belong to widely different species.
woodland scene