ROBIN REJOICE
Among the first of the spring,
The notes of the Robin ring;
With flute-like voice,
He calls, “Rejoice,
For I am coming to sing!”
To any one gloomy or sad,
He says, “Be glad! be glad!
Look on the bright side,
’Tis aye the right side;
The world is good, not bad.”
At daybreak in June we hear
His melody, strong and clear:
“Cheer up, be merry,
I’ve found a cherry;
’Tis a glorious time of the year!”
—Garrett Newkirk, in Bird-Lore.
ROBIN
“Our Robin is a big-bodied Thrush, whereas the Robin-redbreast, the Cock Robin of story, is more nearly akin in size and build to our Bluebird. If you want to see the family marks that yoke the Robin to his Thrush cousin, look carefully at the youngsters as they are leaving the nest, and you will see that instead of wearing plain brick-coloured breasts like the parents, they are striped like the Thrushes; this marking disappears after their first moult. As for Robin himself, you know him well, but can any of you tell exactly the colour of his clothing?”
Sarah and Tommy raised their hands at the same time, but as ladies come first, Sarah began: “He is gray on top, and red underneath, and he’s got white spots outside of his wings.”
“Very good, indeed,” said Gray Lady; “but can you add anything to that, Tommy?”
“Yes, ma’am; he’s black on top of his head, and he’s got a white chin and eye spot and a yellow beak.”
“Why, Tommy, that is really very good; I didn’t know that any of you children had learned to look so carefully and remember.”
“I saw all that yesterday,” said Tommy, in a state of glee. “There came a flock of bran’-new fresh birds, and sat in the cedar bushes back of the barn, but they didn’t find many berries, because the winter birds have eaten them. Ma gave me some old cake to crumble up, and I put some on the top of the stone fence, and some right on the shed, and this morning when I first looked out, a couple of them were out there eating it, and I got a good square look at them. They liked that cake because it had currants in it.”
“So Tommy is the first to report a ‘bran’-new’ Robin flock,” said Gray Lady. “Now that they have really come, will any of the others tell me what they know about Robins? Begin at Sarah’s end of the table.”
“Robins build mud nests before there are any leaves to hide them, and cats often get them when they are sitting,” said Sarah; “and then by and by, when they build another nest, maybe they’ll put it out on a branch that’s weak, and when it storms and the nest gets wet and heavy, it falls down all of a lump. They seem to get along best when they come under the porch or get in a high up crotch.”
“I like Robins,” said Eliza, who sat next, “because they stay around and let you look at them; but I think that they aren’t very clever birds, for instead of keeping quiet when anything comes near the nest, they holler like everything, so that you can tell just where it is. We had a nest in the grape-vine outside the kitchen window, and you couldn’t believe what those little birds ate in one day. I had the mumps and had to stay inside, so I watched them. They ate all the time, that is, in turn, for the old birds seemed to know just which one had food last. Sometimes, if they had a little worm or a bug, they gave it all to one, but if it was one of those long, rubberneck earthworms, they would twist it and bite pieces off and ram one down each throat.
“My Ma said it made her dreadful tired to see how much those four little birds ate, and that if children were as hungry as that, nobody would have the patience to cook food and raise any. When they grew too big for the nest, they sort of fell out into the vine and stayed in that for a few days, and their father and mother fed them just the same. They couldn’t fly well at first, because their tails were so short that they upset.”
“You watched them quite carefully,” said Gray Lady, “but can you tell me what happened after they were able to fly?”
“Yes, ma’am, they acted real mean. They went right down in the cedar trees beyond the garden to sleep, and every morning before father or my brothers were up they went into the strawberry bed, and even before any were ripe, they bit the red side of the green ones and spoiled them. Father was pretty mad, because our land has run out for onions and we’ve got to raise berries for a few years—all kinds, raspberries, currants, blackberries—to even up.
“Father dassent shoot the Robins, ’cause of the law, and besides, we like ’em real well after berry time, so brother John he made a plan, and it worked splendid. He fixed up a nice little house like a chicken-coop and put it on a stump in the middle of the bed, and then he put our cat in the house. She was comfortable and had good eating and plenty of air, but of course she couldn’t get out, so she just sat there and growled and switched her tail at the birds, and they stayed away.”
Gray Lady laughed heartily at this scheme, which certainly was very ingenious.
“That was truly a new sort of scarecrow, and much better than firing off blank cartridges in the nesting season, when other birds might be frightened. However, it proves one thing without a doubt, that cats are the worst enemies that wild birds have to fear, and shows us how careful we should be about turning them out at large, outside of the cities where there are no birds, or keeping more than one under any circumstances.
“What I meant to ask was, do you know what the young Robins do after they leave the nest and the mother bird is perhaps busy with some younger brothers and sisters?
“The father birds choose some tall trees with plenty of leaves, or if evergreens are at hand, they prefer them, and go there in parties of from half a dozen to a hundred every night, leaving the mother birds to tend the nest. When the first brood is able to fly, they go with papa to this roost, where his warning ‘Quick! Quick!’ tells them of dangers they do not yet understand.
“Then, when the nesting is over, all the Robins unite in a flock, but wherever they go, or however far they range in the day, night sees them collected at some favourite roosting-place. I know about this habit very well, because ever since I can remember these spruces outside the window have been used as roosts by many generations of Robins all through the season, except in the dead of winter, when they prefer to nestle into the heart of the young cedars.
“Of course it is not to be denied that Robin likes berries and eats them without asking leave or waiting for sugar and cream, but we must think of this: the farmers are of more importance than any other class of people, for they give the world food. Therefore, the bird laws are made for their benefit, even when at first it might seem otherwise.
“The Robin only troubles berries in June, July, and August, and grapes in September, while all the rest of the year he does valiant work as a gleaner of insects that cannot easily be destroyed by man,—many beetles that destroy foliage and their white grubs that eat the roots of hay, grass, and strawberry plants, grasshoppers, crickets, ants, moths, army-worms, and the larvæ of the owlet moths, better known as army-worms.
“So you can see that if the Robin helps the farmers in this way, the fruit grower should be willing to protect his crops in other ways than by shooting his friend and his children’s friend, the Robin.
“One other reason there is, also, why we of the North should protect the Robin at home; in many southern states he is a legal mark for all who wish to kill him. Not only is the Robin to be found in the markets, but shooting him merely for competition, to see who can bag the most, is a common form of—sport, I was going to say, but game of chance is better.
“Let the Kind Hearts of the North be kind to dear blundering brother Robin, that by the very force of example the hearts of others may be warmed to show mercy and their heads be given the intelligence to see that, in shooting the migrant Robins by the hundreds, the loss is to their country and themselves.”
“Look! Oh, look, Gray Lady!” cried little Clary, climbing to the window-seat; “here are some bright, fresh Robins lighting on the spruces. Let’s play they are some that roosted there last summer; or maybe were hatched right in the orchard, and that they are real glad to get home again.”