Everybody loves Robin Redbreast. Who of us in early spring is not gladdened by the sight of this red waistcoated little chap hopping about on the lawn? But few of us stop to think that our robin is totally unlike the English robin, the dear old Robin Redbreast of nursery days; he who covered with leaves the Babes in the Wood and was shot by the Sparrow with his little arrow!
The Redbreast of Europe is only half the size of our robin, being about five inches and three-quarters from the tip of its bill to the end of its tail feathers. Its color is a yellowish olive-brown. The throat and breast are of a reddish orange color, and this gives to him the name of Redbreast.
They remain all the year round, and when the fields and gardens are covered with snow, making it difficult for them to obtain food they come up to the door steps, picking up the crumbs which are thrown to them. When they are well treated they soon become very familiar and make themselves quite at home, entering the cottage door and often roosting confidently over night in the warm kitchens. Their trust and confidence have made friends for them everywhere and they become domestic pets in almost every country in Europe. Their song is sweet and plaintive and is heard from early spring until late in the autumn. In this respect they are very like our own bluebird.
English books of natural history are full of interesting narratives of the beautiful confidence in man shown by the Redbreast in selecting a place for its nest.
Our pair chose for their nest a shelf in a schoolroom in which there were seventy children and directly over the heads of a little class of girls, who never once disturbed them. One of the little birds died and the parents carried out its dead body during school hours. The other four little robins were fed and reared, day by day, in the presence of the seventy children. Do you wonder that the boys and girls of England are so fond of their Robin Redbreast?
The robin of North America belongs to a very different family—that of the thrushes. It is nearly twice the length of the English bird and more than twice its size. Audubon calls it the Migratory Thrush, because it leaves us when winter comes on and does not return until the frost is out of the ground.
Like the robin of Europe, our bird also has a confiding disposition. It builds its nest early in the spring, long before there are any leaves to hide it. It is a devoted parent and when taken sufficiently young is easily tamed and becomes strongly attached to its benefactor.
With the coming of the first robin we feel sure that spring is here. Looking out of the window, we see our little friend with his red breast shining in the sunlight, singing his simple song of faith and hope.