16 BULLETIN 196, UNITED STATES NATIONAL MUSEUM 



of the meadow and caught sight of a patch of greensward, they 

 checked their flight and settled on the grass, joining other robins that 

 were running about there, and, after feeding a little while, passed on 

 again to the north. All through the day, spent between Boston and 

 Newburyport, the robin was a prominent bird, chiefly during the 

 morning hours, mostly in small flocks, but sometimes collected in 

 dozens, spread over the open fields. This day's observation is char- 

 acteristic of the early spring robin flight. It is not spectacular; the 

 great gatherings of the South have thinned out before reaching New 

 England, leaving only small flocks of wild, wary male birds, which 

 wander restlessly about the country, perching in high trees, or feeding 

 in neglected fields or, more commonly, in the cedar pastures where 

 they pluck off the berries. The birds are not in song at this season. 

 They are comparatively silent (i. e., compared to their noisy com- 

 panions in the migration), expressing themselves only in nervous 

 exclamations. 



Early in April we note a sudden, marked change in the behavior of 

 the robins we see about us. We meet many of the birds now in the 

 settled districts of the towns, in our gardens, running familiarly over 

 the lawns. They are tamer than the first migrants and act as if they 

 were our local birds returned to their last year's homes. 



The arrival of the female birds at this time precipitates a period of 

 noisy activity. For days our lawns and dooryards become the scene 

 of countless combats and shrieking pursuits full of liveliness and 

 excitement. A male bird will often run at another, seeming to jostle 

 him, and both may then jump into the air against each other, suggest- 

 ing a fight between gamecocks, or one bird may fly off pursued by the 

 other. 



When the noisy pursuits are in full swing, early in April, we some- 

 times see two robins dash past us, one bird following the other, a hand's 

 breadth apart, sweeping along not far above the ground at a speed so 

 reckless, with hghtninghke twists and turns, that collision seems 

 inevitable. Yet they continue on without mishap and pass out of our 

 sight so rapidly that we cannot be sure of their respective sex, and we 

 are left in doubt whether the pursuits are amatory or hostile. The 

 special feature of these pursuits is that only two birds engage in them, 

 and that the flights are maintained for a long distance. 



At this season there is still only fitful singing, chiefly in the morning, 

 but all day we hear the long, giggling laugh, he-he-he-he, and the 

 scream of attack. 



The ground is softening now, and the earthworms, near the surface, 

 are available as food for the next generation of robins. 



Courtship.— John Burroughs (1894) ably describes a phase of robin 

 activity, familiar to us all, in which the noisy pursuits assume an 



