100 BIRDS OF FIELD, FOREST AND PARK 



sick, he took it to the house and dug worms for 

 it. It eagerly devoured the first handful, even a 

 second, and flew away evidently fully recovered. 

 He concluded from this that many were in a 

 starving condition. 



A few weeks before they begin their north- 

 ward flight in late January or February, they 

 often gather in enormous flocks, a real Robin 

 convention, sometimes spreading over several 

 square miles of territory. No doubt there are 

 hundreds of thousands of birds in one of these 

 gatherings, the purpose of which is all a mystery 

 to us. After a period of fraternizing, the flock 

 breaks up into small bands, and the migration 

 is on. When they arrive on their nesting grounds 

 they are either alone or in small flocks. 



As a conversationalist the Robin takes high 

 rank. No bird so emphatically expresses the 

 varying emotions, and his emphatic alarm notes 

 when danger approaches are recognized by all 

 the birds in hearing. He is the watchman for 

 his neighbors of the open, as the Blue Jay is for 

 the forest-dwellers. The song of the Robin, 

 clear and bold, and audible at a long distance, 

 is rather hurried and nervous, entirely lacking 

 the serenity of several of his cousins. But the 

 "rain song," his best utterance, is a very inter- 

 esting performance, varying much with indi- 

 viduals. It has been interpreted thus: 



*'I hear the Robins in the lane 

 Singing cheerily, 

 Cheer up, cheer up, 

 Cheerily, cheerily, cheer up.'* 



