Some birds are shy and retiring, and if we would meet them we must go to their haunts in the forests. Others are comparatively tame and domestic, living about our dwellings and meeting us more than halfway when we attempt to make friends with them.
Among these familiar birds of the garden and orchard, none is better known than the cheery robin. Robins are very numerous, and are found in all parts of North America, from New England to Alaska, and south to the city of Mexico.
It is due to his tameness and also to his brick-red breast that he bears the name of "Robin."
When the first English settlers came to this country, of course everything was new and strange to them. The birds had only Indian names which the newcomers could not understand, even when they heard them. So they had to make up names for those birds that were common enough to attract their attention.
The robin was probably one of the first to be named. When the settlers saw this friendly bird, with a breast colored somewhat like the robin redbreast of England, they called him "Robin," after the favorite of their far-away homes.
The two birds are really quite unlike. The robin redbreast is less than six inches in length, and is slighter than our bluebird, while our robin is ten inches long, and is, as every one knows, a stout, heavy bird. There is only a general resemblance in color, both birds having a brownish-red breast; probably our bird's name is due as much to his friendly ways as to his appearance.
The robin is a migratory bird, and in winter is not usually found north of New Jersey and Pennsylvania. This is his playtime in the sunny South. He lives in flocks containing hundreds and even thousands of birds. They feed on the berries of the dogwood, china tree and mistletoe, and are the jolliest lot of birds it is possible to imagine.
Some are singing; not so long a song as they sing in the summer, but just a kind of gay humming; while others are dashing about, chasing one another through the woods in sport.
But the robin is a great home-lover. At the very first sign of spring he begins to think about returning to us, and some warm day, late in February, we may generally find him hunting for food about the grassy banks of a spring, or on the sheltered side of a wood.
Soon, if the weather continues pleasant, we shall hear him sing. What a welcome sound it is! How it recalls memories of cherries and strawberries, and of all the good things of summer!