Tell me, too, what robin does with his year. You know when he comes in spring and when he builds and when the speckled young ones fly. But where is he in summer and fall and winter? And what is he about all this time? Does he build another nest and rear another family, or does he go vacationing? And does he gather the same kind of food in spring and summer? Does he gather cherries for his family or for himself? Did you ever see robin in winter in New York?
What can you tell me about the song of robin? Does he sing all the year? Or does he have a different note for summer? Not one of you can tell how many different notes and calls robin has. I sometimes think that robin knows several languages.
I have seen many more springs than you have seen: and yet I always wait for robin on the lawn. I often wonder whether the same robins come back to my lawn. They seem to go to business at once. They hop with the most confident air, and day after day pull strings out of the ground. You know what these strings are: but do you know how robin finds them? Is it by smell, or sight, or feeling, or hearing? Do you suppose he is listening when he cocks his head to one side and then to the other? Or is he merely making motions? And I wonder whether birds and animals usually make motions just for the sake of making them?
I have asked you many questions, and not one of you can answer. Perhaps I cannot answer. You ask, "What's the use?" If you can see robin, and learn why, you can also learn other things. But I like robin just because he is robin.
There is one thing more. You will read about robin redbreast. Who is he? Find out for me whether robin redbreast of Europe and of English poetry is the same as our American bird.