to add much more to Mr. Herman’s graphic description. Perhaps it is not known to all our readers, however, that a great number of Robins migrate to our country every autumn from the Continent, whilst some of our home-bred birds leave our shores. As a rule the red on the breast of the former is brighter than with those bred here. There are, however, as we know, individual birds which will attach themselves to a home where they have been treated kindly, for a number of successive winters, entering the open window and feeding with the children.
The Robin has three different styles of song, one the gay, joyous outpouring which delights us on sunny days, then the autumnal dirge, which proclaims the approach of cold stormy days, and is often uttered just before it leaves us for warmer quarters; and again, the long drawn-out cries, notes of distress, when some prowling cat or other enemy approaches its nest.
Robins, as we all know, devour great quantities of worms and insects. It is a most valuable species to the gardener and fruit grower, for, except under the stress of thirst, it lives only on animal food.
The Robin needs little description. The whole of the upper side, including the back of the head and crown, is olive brown, the under-parts dingy white; throat, breast, and brow a beautiful rose-red with us,—in some districts more chestnut-red,—whence the bird is called the Redbreast. There are plainly discernable oblique stripes of a lighter shade on the wings. Eyes dark brown and large; legs dark and strong; beak finely pointed; plumage fine, soft, and loose. The nest is always placed low down, in the thickest bushes, in hollow trees, holes, and crevices. It is well and delicately built; the outer covering consists of dry leaves, the inner of thickly woven moss, rootlets, hair, and feathers. It is difficult to find. The eggs usually number five, occasionally seven; they are of a yellowish olive-brown speckled with rust colour, the speckling being closer in a ring round the thicker end. Two or even three broods are produced in the year.
“The Robin and the Wren
Are God Almighty’s cock and hen.
Him that harries their nest,
Never shall his soul have rest.”
Grahame sang—
“Dearer the redbreast’s note,
That mourns the fading year in Scotia’s vales,
Than Philomel’s where spring is ever new;
More dear the redbreast’s sober suit,
So like the withered leaflet, than the glare
Of gaudy wings that make the Iris dim.”