Each time I study a new species I am amazed to find how much I see after I have become thoroughly acquainted with it.
Niko Tinbergen, animal behaviorist and author of Curious Naturalist
Robin is one of the most native and democratic of our birds; he is one of the family, and seems much nearer to us than those rave, exotic visitants ... with their distant, high-bred ways. Hardy, noisy, frolicsome, neighborly and domestic in his habits, strong of wings, and bold in spirit, he is the pioneer of the thrush family, and well worthy of the finer artists whose coming he heralds and in a measure prepares us for.
John Burroughs, from Wake-Robin, 1913 ("Wake-Robin" refers to the white trillium that blooms in the eastern woods where Burroughs lived.)
Who in all of North America has not experienced our American Robin up close and personal? Who has not watched Robin Redbreast in pursuit of earthworms on a lawn or open field? And who has not enjoyed the robin's cheerful caroling?
No other songbird is so well-known as our American Robin. It is as American as apple pie, baseball, and the Stars and Stripes. The states of Connecticut, Michigan, and Wisconsin have declared it their state bird, and in Canada, a pair of American Robins, or "le merle d'amerique" in French, grace two-dollar bills.
Herbert Brandt, ornithologist and author of books about birds from Alaska to Texas, writes in Arizona and Its Bird Life, "In my book of experience the bird that has displayed to me the most understandable avian behavior and appealing personality is the friendly, reliable Robin. Its daily fidelity, love of offspring, industry, flocking and migration behavior, familiarity, distribution, and many other attributes cause this bird, in my studies, to stand apart."
Although the Bald Eagle is America's national bird, and there are a handful of other species, such as the roadrunner, hummingbird, and chickadee, that may be more appealing, none is as widespread and as well-known as the American Robin. It resides on our lawns and in our gardens, fields, and pastures, as well as in the wild lands in which we recreate. It is known throughout North America, from the Arctic tundra to the humid Gulf lowlands, and from the Nor'east to the Baja Peninsula. It often is the only bird that as children we learn to call by name.
For me, after many years of enjoying nature, including untold experiences with wild birds, three robin incidents are especially meaningful.
***
I remember one early spring day along the Naval Oaks Trail in Florida's Gulf Islands National Seashore. The huge live oaks were filled with birdsongs, each species expressing their zeal for the coming season. Then ahead of me, somewhere to the left of the trail, I began to detect a strange, melodious hum. It took several minutes to reach a point on the trail where I was able to pinpoint the general location of the sound. By this time I began to see dozens of American Robins all about me, perched among the oaks, moving about from one spot to another, and arriving singly or in flocks from elsewhere.
I began to zero in on the principal source of the hum, soon recognizing that much of the harmony was supplied by mellow chips and partial songs of robins. I left the trail and slowly worked my way through the woods to where I could see a shallow pond just ahead. By now the sound was considerably louder, and I could also distinguish hundreds of minute splashings. A few feet closer and I was able to peer through the undergrowth
to across the pond. It wasn't until then that I understood the true cause of the hum. Hundreds of American Robins lined the shore or were perched on adjacent shrubs and trees. Those along the shore were bathing, dipping into the water and flipping it over their backs. They were spaced out shoulder to shoulder for 100 feet or more. Each bird seemed in pure delight! After a few dips and splashes, the bather would fly up to a low branch to shake and preen and chirp a few apparent notes of contentment. Its place on the shore was immediately taken by a waiting bird.
In watching the estimated thousand or more bathers that morning, I was struck by their good manners and patience in waiting their turn to bathe. Although I noticed some posturing during a bath, or an occasional bill jab or gaping when the next bather got too close, the entire flock of robins reminded me of lines of shoppers streaming to the checkout and waiting their turn. It was a marvelous experience!
***
On another spring day at Lassen Volcanic National Park in California, I was attracted to a pair of American Robins and five Steller's Jays, busily flying about an ancient ponderosa pine stump. I immediately assumed that the jays were engaged in nest robbery and the robins were attempting to defend their holdings. But when I got closer and had a better view, I discovered that instead, both species were busy capturing and eating flying carpenter ants as they emerged from three small holes in the huge stump. For several minutes I watched from about 80 feet away, while they continued their feeding activities. On most occasions the ants were taken immediately as they emerged, but at other times they were captured in flight. Both the jays and robins seemed perfectly capable of fly-catching.
There also were hundreds of nonwinged carpenter ants available, far more than the flying forms, but none of the birds took advantage of that food source. They picked only on the winged ants, assumedly males engaged in mating flights. The males die soon after mating to a larger queen ant that will then start a new colony or move into an already established colony. Apparently, the winged males possessed a different appeal from the more abundant nonwinged ants. Many became choice morsels for our American Robin.
***
Third was a childhood incident involving an American Robin that first ignited my interest in birds. It occurred in Idaho Falls, Idaho, my hometown, where I lived until moving to California when I was 14 years old. Receiving a bow and arrows for my twelfth birthday, I soon was practicing on almost any target available. Cans and cardboard bears and dragons were most popular, and I got to the point where I could shoot reasonably straight, at least within a dozen feet or so. Then came the day when I was shooting in a nearby field, where several American Robins were hunting earthworms, and I decided to use one of the red-breasted birds as a target.
In retrospect, I am sure that I gave little thought to such behavior and probably didn't believe that I would really be able to hit so small a target, but I drew back my bow and let an arrow fly. My target, more than 200 feet away, was cleanly pierced by my arrow. As you might surmise, that youngster ran up to his dead prey with wonder that he had struck down so small a target at such a distance. But on picking up the dead and bleeding robin to retrieve my arrow, I remember how distraught I suddenly became. I was holding a limp ball of feathers that only seconds before had been a wonderful, living creature, representing a bird that I had seen and listened to many times before. With one thoughtless action I had destroyed that vision. I remember how sad I was afterward. I put up my bow and arrows that day, and since then have watched our feathered friends only with admiration and respect.
***
Years later, through a questionnaire to members of the American Birding Association, I discovered that 27 percent of all birders began their hobby because of a "spark bird," an encounter with a single bird that ignited their interest (Wauer 1991). The American Robin was my spark bird that led me to an exciting world of natural history.
Claim to Fame
The American Robin literally sets the standard for all other songbirds. Nature lovers all across North America commonly judge the sizes of all other birds by whether they are the same size, larger, or smaller than the American Robin. The robin's breast provides us with the characteristic robin-red color. Even their eggs are robin's-egg blue. The term "robin snow" is used for a light spring snow coming after the return of the American Robin.
Even in the music world, several songs highlight the American Robin. The earliest one—"When the Robins Nest Again"—was written by Frank Howard in 1883. More recent examples include "Robin and Roses," a 1936 ditty sung by Bing Crosby; the more upbeat "Rockin' Robin"; and Harry Woods's 1926 classic, "When the Red, Red Robin Comes Bob, Bob, Bobbin' Along." Woods's robin song, a wonderful tune that almost everyone knows from childhood, may even provide us with a sort of standard for happiness songs.
There also are numerous robin nursery rhymes. Although many of these may refer to the European Robin, they nevertheless were memorized and quoted by an untold number of American youngsters. Most are anonymous. Three of them I remember from my childhood:
The north wind cloth blow, And we shall have snow,
And what will poor robin do then, Poor thing?
He'll sit in a barn,
To keep himself warm,
And hide his head under his wing, Poor thing!
from "The North Wind Doth Blow"
and
Who killed Cock Robin?
"I," said the sparrow,
"With my bow and arrow,
I killed Cock Robin."
Who saw him die?
"I," said the fly,
"With my little eye,
I saw him die."
from "Who Killed Cock Robin?"
and
Little Robin Redbreast
Came to visit me;
This is what he whistled,
Thank you for my tea.
