YOUNG ROBIN IN ITS FIRST COAT OF FEATHERS.
Robins commence to breed in March, and make their nests of bits of dead grass, leaves, and moss, with an inner lining of hair. At the beginning of the season building operations are conducted in quite a leisurely way, occupying as much as a fortnight, but later on no time is lost, and nests are made in a much shorter period.
Last spring I watched a female, quite unaided by her mate, who was singing very loudly morning, noon, and night in my garden, build a nest in three days. One morning she carried dead leaves and moss to her home five times in five minutes!
Although generally selecting holes in banks and walls where a brick or a stone has fallen out, this species is famed for its apparent love of odd situations in which to breed. I have found Robins’ nests in old tin cans, tea-pots, coffee-pots, kettles, jam-jars, biscuit boxes, cocoanut husks, fragments of bottles, and clock cases, and have seen them in bookcases and other places inside the much-used rooms of dwelling-houses.
Robins lay five or six eggs, as a rule, although as many as seven, and even eight, are occasionally found in one nest. They are white or light grey, blotched and freckled with dull light red. Sometimes the markings join each other nearly all over the shell, and at others they are collected round the larger end.
FEMALE ROBIN BRINGING
FOOD TO HER YOUNG.
Young Robins, when they grow their first coats of feathers, do not have red breasts like their parents, but are dressed in varying shades of brown that render them very difficult to see when sitting still, amongst the lights and shades of a hedgerow. Directly they have donned their second coats of feathers, which happens in July and August, and become like their parents in appearance, they commence to try to sing. It is said that when they have been bred near Nightingales they borrow notes from that sweet-voiced bird, and introduce them into their own songs. I can readily believe this, because I have heard a Redbreast imitate the song of a Sedge Warbler so well that I was completely deceived until I saw the vocalist.
It is unnecessary to describe a Robin’s song, because almost everyone has an opportunity of hearing it, and seeing the bird at the same time. Its call and alarm notes, however, are frequently uttered when the creature is not visible. The former is a rapidly repeated metallic sounding tit-tit-tit, and the latter a plaintive, long-drawn chee, generally uttered when some intruder is near the nest.