The Song of Robin Redbreast (Erithacus rubecula)
When Nature provides you with just what you are looking for -this is 'synchronicity' in action. I was completing anillustrated version of one of my ebooks 'The Adventure ofArthur' and was short of some good pictures of a Robin - who isa sort of 'guide' in this story - called 'Follow the Robin'. Ihad used a scanned Christmas card 'at a pinch' for this imageand - well it just sort of spoiled the ebook. With this in theback of my mind I set off on a walk with my camera.
I went to a place downriver where there are no buildings, nosound of cars, no people. It's a place 'out of time' where youcan shift between centuries and just 'be there' at any time asit has remained essentially unchanged for hundreds of years.Ever since I went to view the Cornish solar eclipse of 2000there it had become one of my 'special places'. The river Foweyforks together just here and then starts to open out into St.Winnow Pool and the valley bottom is secluded by mature mixedwoodland on every side.
After taking a couple of photos of 'light sparkling on theRiver', I shut my eyes to take in the sounds - wind in trees,distant sounds of farm animals, the subtle and playful noises ofwater. After a few moments I heard a fluttering behind me - andopened my eyes to see a Robin perched on top of my camera bag,not even 18 inches away. It stared at me, head cocked, and flewoff to a nearby tree to pour out its fantastic song just abovemy head. I saw another one, slightly smaller, hopping aboutnearby, shyer than her mate.
I took the camera from the bag and hung it round my neck. Thetiny bird was just within zoom reach and I got a couple of shotsof it singing. 'How lucky am I'? I thought. Just the pics Ineed. After a few minutes the bird stopped its beautiful song,and flew off to another tree nearby where it started 'clucking'.A sort of 'tick tick' noise like a fisherman's reel. Robins makethis kind of noise sometimes too. I wished I had some seeds orbreadcrumbs to tempt it closer, but I had taken no food with me.I clucked back to my best ability, matching its noises as best Icould without a Robin beak or larynx (do they have larynxes ? )
When it clucked once, I did. Then twice. Then three times,altering the intervals between clucks like the bird. It hoppednearer and nearer. Looking at me from various positions. Andthen it flew over and actually stood on my knee. Very carefullyI lifted the camera and turned it on, hoping the littleelectronic noises wouldn't scare it. It stayed and I got awonderful close-up.
But then it started 'posing'. You're not going to believe thisbut it moved its head around like a top model - giving me anglesfrom the left and right and front, staying right there on myknee for what seemed like a few minutes. I know it sounds likean 'anthromorphic projection' (where humans invest animals andnature with their own 'motivations', which really annoys mesometimes) - but that is really what it seemed like. It's likethis Robin really wanted to be published - and now it is !
Even days later I feel so rewarded with this intimate connectionwith a wild animal - and I just had to share it with you.
So I have to go back there with a gift for this friendly Robinand his mate. I wondered what do Robins eat and stuff. Whatwould make a good gift for this friendly creature, perhaps thebest-loved of all birds with its sweet but slightly melancholysong ?
I dug out 'British Nesting Birds', my 1910 edition by W.Percival Westell (author of 'Nature Stalking for Boys'). Thisbird has loads of common names: Bobbie, Bob, Bobrobin,Brow-Rhuddyn (Welsh), Robinet, Ruddock and Tommi-Liden amongstthem. WP Westell tells me they eat worms, earwigs, butterflies,larvae, spiders, daddy-long-legs and will take scraps in Winter.They make their nests from moss, dead leaves, stalks of plantswith a neat lining of roots, hair, or wool.
There's my answer. Some soft, washed wool for the Robin to lineits nest for the coming brood - but not red !
Later on I returned.
I could hear the Robin some way off in the trees and couldn'tseem to attract it by 'clucking'. So I tried to contact the birdwith a technique I had read about where you push a picture intoan animal's mind through its third eye. I sent it pictures of alittle nest with five eggs, all cosy with the newly cut bits ofwoolly jumper I had brought with me.
Within a minute I heard the whir of wings and the Robin wasstanding on the end of the bench where I sat. I slowly raised myarm and dropped one of the wool pieces down near the bird. Therewas no communication as such but I gained a strong impression Iwas being scolded. Here follows a rough translation of what Ibelieve the bird replied:
"Take yer stupid peices of wool home with you, there the lastthing we need round here. The moss here is fantastic, it issoft, there's loads of it and has much better water drainingqualities than them soggy bits of cloth. If I use those the dampwill rot my chicks in the nest. Fat lot you know. If you reallywant to make friends go and get me some fat juicy worms andbring them here."
I checked the moss. Because of the clean air here, there isloads of moss and lichen for lining nests. It was certainly muchless likely to get damp than my wool. Suitably chastised Ireturned home. I saw several Robins on the way home, they kindof made themselves conspicuous by landing in a tree nearby andstarting to sing as I walked by - or was it the same Robin ?
But later, on a mornings gardening with my son, I persuaded himto pick up some worms and save them for an expedition to see thetame Robin that afternoon. The aim was to get the Robin to takea worm from his hand, which in his words would be 'cool'.
We sat there for about 45 minutes, making Robin clucking noisesbut I could see his attention was wearing thin. He listened tothe bird song and we identified a pheasant, several other Robinsongs from over the river, the exciting cry of a hunting buzzardand some other bird I couldn't identify that makes a noise like'Michupichu - Michupichu' ! We decided to 'set the worms free'and headed into the copse behind us to find non-salty soil abovethe highest tide mark and placed them down where they couldwriggle back into the earth.
It was then I saw the Robin, high up in one of the trees. ThreeRobins. I sat down next to the worms and stage whispered toWills "Walk over here and sit down quietly". But it was toolate. Quick as a flash of bright red the Robin swooped in andbit off one end of one of the worms, fluttering back up to anearby tree. Wills sat down next to me and we picked up a wormeach and held it out. The Robin fluttered around from bush tobush, keeping a beady eye on us at all times. Then it flew froma bush, landed on my son's head for a moment, and flew off toanother one.
It came closer as we stretched out our worms for the taking butjust then two large dogs ran through the copse, breaking themoment. It was Mel with her daughters, Emily and Hazel, outwalking the dogs. Wills was glad to find some people his own ageto play with and we went back to Mel's house for a cup of tea.
I went to a place downriver where there are no buildings, nosound of cars, no people. It's a place 'out of time' where youcan shift between centuries and just 'be there' at any time asit has remained essentially unchanged for hundreds of years.Ever since I went to view the Cornish solar eclipse of 2000there it had become one of my 'special places'. The river Foweyforks together just here and then starts to open out into St.Winnow Pool and the valley bottom is secluded by mature mixedwoodland on every side.
After taking a couple of photos of 'light sparkling on theRiver', I shut my eyes to take in the sounds - wind in trees,distant sounds of farm animals, the subtle and playful noises ofwater. After a few moments I heard a fluttering behind me - andopened my eyes to see a Robin perched on top of my camera bag,not even 18 inches away. It stared at me, head cocked, and flewoff to a nearby tree to pour out its fantastic song just abovemy head. I saw another one, slightly smaller, hopping aboutnearby, shyer than her mate.
I took the camera from the bag and hung it round my neck. Thetiny bird was just within zoom reach and I got a couple of shotsof it singing. 'How lucky am I'? I thought. Just the pics Ineed. After a few minutes the bird stopped its beautiful song,and flew off to another tree nearby where it started 'clucking'.A sort of 'tick tick' noise like a fisherman's reel. Robins makethis kind of noise sometimes too. I wished I had some seeds orbreadcrumbs to tempt it closer, but I had taken no food with me.I clucked back to my best ability, matching its noises as best Icould without a Robin beak or larynx (do they have larynxes ? )
When it clucked once, I did. Then twice. Then three times,altering the intervals between clucks like the bird. It hoppednearer and nearer. Looking at me from various positions. Andthen it flew over and actually stood on my knee. Very carefullyI lifted the camera and turned it on, hoping the littleelectronic noises wouldn't scare it. It stayed and I got awonderful close-up.
But then it started 'posing'. You're not going to believe thisbut it moved its head around like a top model - giving me anglesfrom the left and right and front, staying right there on myknee for what seemed like a few minutes. I know it sounds likean 'anthromorphic projection' (where humans invest animals andnature with their own 'motivations', which really annoys mesometimes) - but that is really what it seemed like. It's likethis Robin really wanted to be published - and now it is !
Even days later I feel so rewarded with this intimate connectionwith a wild animal - and I just had to share it with you.
So I have to go back there with a gift for this friendly Robinand his mate. I wondered what do Robins eat and stuff. Whatwould make a good gift for this friendly creature, perhaps thebest-loved of all birds with its sweet but slightly melancholysong ?
I dug out 'British Nesting Birds', my 1910 edition by W.Percival Westell (author of 'Nature Stalking for Boys'). Thisbird has loads of common names: Bobbie, Bob, Bobrobin,Brow-Rhuddyn (Welsh), Robinet, Ruddock and Tommi-Liden amongstthem. WP Westell tells me they eat worms, earwigs, butterflies,larvae, spiders, daddy-long-legs and will take scraps in Winter.They make their nests from moss, dead leaves, stalks of plantswith a neat lining of roots, hair, or wool.
There's my answer. Some soft, washed wool for the Robin to lineits nest for the coming brood - but not red !
Later on I returned.
I could hear the Robin some way off in the trees and couldn'tseem to attract it by 'clucking'. So I tried to contact the birdwith a technique I had read about where you push a picture intoan animal's mind through its third eye. I sent it pictures of alittle nest with five eggs, all cosy with the newly cut bits ofwoolly jumper I had brought with me.
Within a minute I heard the whir of wings and the Robin wasstanding on the end of the bench where I sat. I slowly raised myarm and dropped one of the wool pieces down near the bird. Therewas no communication as such but I gained a strong impression Iwas being scolded. Here follows a rough translation of what Ibelieve the bird replied:
"Take yer stupid peices of wool home with you, there the lastthing we need round here. The moss here is fantastic, it issoft, there's loads of it and has much better water drainingqualities than them soggy bits of cloth. If I use those the dampwill rot my chicks in the nest. Fat lot you know. If you reallywant to make friends go and get me some fat juicy worms andbring them here."
I checked the moss. Because of the clean air here, there isloads of moss and lichen for lining nests. It was certainly muchless likely to get damp than my wool. Suitably chastised Ireturned home. I saw several Robins on the way home, they kindof made themselves conspicuous by landing in a tree nearby andstarting to sing as I walked by - or was it the same Robin ?
But later, on a mornings gardening with my son, I persuaded himto pick up some worms and save them for an expedition to see thetame Robin that afternoon. The aim was to get the Robin to takea worm from his hand, which in his words would be 'cool'.
We sat there for about 45 minutes, making Robin clucking noisesbut I could see his attention was wearing thin. He listened tothe bird song and we identified a pheasant, several other Robinsongs from over the river, the exciting cry of a hunting buzzardand some other bird I couldn't identify that makes a noise like'Michupichu - Michupichu' ! We decided to 'set the worms free'and headed into the copse behind us to find non-salty soil abovethe highest tide mark and placed them down where they couldwriggle back into the earth.
It was then I saw the Robin, high up in one of the trees. ThreeRobins. I sat down next to the worms and stage whispered toWills "Walk over here and sit down quietly". But it was toolate. Quick as a flash of bright red the Robin swooped in andbit off one end of one of the worms, fluttering back up to anearby tree. Wills sat down next to me and we picked up a wormeach and held it out. The Robin fluttered around from bush tobush, keeping a beady eye on us at all times. Then it flew froma bush, landed on my son's head for a moment, and flew off toanother one.
It came closer as we stretched out our worms for the taking butjust then two large dogs ran through the copse, breaking themoment. It was Mel with her daughters, Emily and Hazel, outwalking the dogs. Wills was glad to find some people his own ageto play with and we went back to Mel's house for a cup of tea.
Source...