I recall an amusing experience with a robin family one summer. The second brood of hungry babies were clamoring for “More,” and following their overworked father about as I have seen human babies tease their mothers. He was decidedly “frayed” as to temper, but he chose to assume the entire parental responsibility. His faded, bedraggled spouse, perched disconsolately upon the roof of the chicken-house, flew down two or three times into the bosom of the family and endeavored to “do her bit”; but her testy husband drove her off each time with a sharp tut-tut, until in despair she remained upon the ridge-pole peeping forlornly. The father proceeded to pull up worms for his gaping brood in a manner so irritated and strenuous that I wondered whether he had had a “family jar,” or was only worn out with anxiety and overwork. It is a huge task to feed one baby robin alone, who can eat sixty-eight angleworms a day,[50] or one hundred and sixty-five cutworms.[51]
Robins do good to the soil by dragging forth earthworms and preventing their too rapid increase. Mr. Forbush calls attention to the value of these birds in devouring “dormant cutworms and caterpillars even in February,” also quantities of the larvæ of March flies and white grubs that injure grass. The robin is an enemy of caterpillars, especially those that live near the ground; his destruction of cutworms and white grubs alone entitles him to our gratitude. He does eat early cherries, and has been bitterly arraigned for so doing. When later cherries, apples, peaches, pears, and grapes are ripe, wild fruits and mulberries which he eats by preference, have also matured; so on the whole, he does little harm.[52] He is now protected in most of our states.
A Maine robin that had an inordinate love for cherries and garden-raspberries was at first intimidated by a most lifelike, well-set-up scarecrow placed in the garden for his benefit. But he grew wiser as the days passed: he approached the fearful creature and received no harm. Familiarity finally bred contempt, for one day he was discovered perched upon the scarecrow’s shoulder eating a raspberry!
Robins become very tame. I once had the pleasure of the companionship of a dear, gentle, little English robin—a bird very different in size and manner from his American cousin—who would come out of the shrubbery whenever I called him. He would approach within two or three feet of my chair, to snatch the soft crumbs that I placed on the ground to lure him. He rewarded me frequently with his delightful little bubbling song.
An American robin during a March ice-storm learned that bread crumbs were to be found upon the window-sill of a house in Cleveland. He flew to the sill frequently. When he found no crumb awaiting him, he would tap on the pane, then fly away a short distance and remain until a fresh supply appeared. He and his mate nested in an apple-tree near by. They and their brood were fed in this way the entire season by their bird-loving friends, until they were in danger of becoming pauperized! One morning the following March while the Cleveland family were breakfasting, they heard the familiar tap upon the pane! There was Robin back again—you may imagine his welcome! For four years, he continued to announce his arrival in the same manner, and to build in the same yard; each year he and his family were supplied with part of their food by their devoted friends. Then ill must have befallen him, for he never returned.
To another Ohio woman came the joy of having a robin enter her room frequently. She had tempted him with crumbs inside a window-sill. One day he perched upon the sewing-machine where she was at work, and sang his sweet song to her, as the busy machine hummed its tune.
A robin’s nest is an untidy affair, but it is something that we should miss were it not a part of our environment. Few birds’ eggs are more lovely in color than those of the familiar robins’-egg blue, nestled in their grass-lined cup of clay. Olive Thorne Miller wrote of a clever robin that wished to build her nest during an almost rainless spring. She could find no mud, so she waded about in her drinking-dish to wet her legs; she then hopped into the dust, and with her bill scraped the mud off her legs. This she did repeatedly, until she had the necessary amount.[53]
I once saw a mother-robin sheltering her brood during a rainstorm of great violence. Her soft body and outspread wings were pelted by the rain, but she seemed quite oblivious to everything except to keep harm from her young. Her protecting attitude and the look in her bright eyes made as beautiful an expression of mother-love as I ever witnessed.
THE BLUEBIRD
Thrush Family—Turdidæ
Length: About 6½ to 7 inches.
General Appearance: Upper parts bright blue; under parts reddish-brown; no crest.
Male: Head, back, and tail bright blue; wings blue, edged with black; in the fall, edged with reddish-brown; throat, breast, and sides reddish-brown; white from center of breast to tail.
Female: Similar to male, but paler; wings and tail brightest in flight.
Young: Grayish-blue, speckled with whitish; wings and tail bluish.
Call-note: An indescribably sweet rendering of the syllables, Cheer-e-o, given usually while the bird is on the wing.
Song: A gentle warble of exceptional sweetness—whew′-ee, whew′-ee, whew′-ee, uttered tenderly and pensively.
Habitat: Orchards and gardens. The birds are usually seen in pairs, and like rather conspicuous perches, such as fence-posts and telegraph wires.
Nest: Made of grasses and placed in old hollow trees, preferably apple-trees. One objection raised against tree-surgery is that it deprives bluebirds of nesting-sites, but that objection may be removed by furnishing nesting-boxes.
Range: Eastern North America. Breeds from southern Canada and Newfoundland to the Gulf Coast and Florida, west to the Rockies; winters in the southern half of the eastern U. S., south to Guatemala.