THE ROBIN. 103 



its own, and is in keeping with the bird itself, which, in 

 every respect is energetic, hardy, plain and blunt. It is 

 particularly his note of a beautiful spring evening, hence it 

 has been designated his "evening call." If those most 

 elegant songsters, the Thrushes, members of his own 

 family, keeping so closely to the thick forests, and scarcely 

 allowing the closest observer to get a glimpse of them while 

 they sing, may remind one of people of refined and reserved 

 habits, and "distant, high-bred ways," then surely the 

 Robin must recall the inartistic manners of the more com- 

 mon people. His is the air of a vigorous, robust pioneer. 



Though sometimes here by the latter part of February, 

 and soon becoming one of the most numerous birds of the 

 season, he gives hardly anything worthy to be called a song 

 till near the first of April. Then his loud, clear warble, if 

 somewhat monotonous and less expressive of sentiment 

 than that of the Wood-thrush or the Hermit, is a most 

 grateful breaking of the stillness of winter, a mitigation of 

 sharp frosts and chill showers — April showers always tune 

 him up — a never-failing promise of all the joy and plenty of 

 the year. Then truly he makes "the outgoings of the even- 

 ing and the morning to rejoice." What would an American 

 spring be without the song of the Robin ? 



The ragged and faded appearance of the Robin in mid- 

 summer, after the excessive cares incident to the rearing of 

 two or three families, is but a poor apology for his modest 

 but truly beautiful colors of dark-gray, black and golden- 

 brown, in these days of early spring. Even Mrs. Robin, 

 though not so dark and rich in tints as her consort, is a real 

 model of plain and tasteful elegance. 



The farmer or gardener, notwithstanding certain reminis- 

 cences of destruction of ripe cherries and luscious strawber- 

 ries, cannot but be convinced of the friendship and co-oper- 



