EASTERN ROBIN 15 



Most frequently it nests away from the village as the native children 

 like robin eggs to eat as well as those of any other bird. The old birds 

 do come about the cabins while feeding or hunting food for the young, 

 but the young are almost never seen, and the old birds keep a sharp 

 watch and will not allow one to approach closely. 



"Robins are fairly common in the willow and alder thickets along the 

 Yukon and its branches, but in two years I have found no nests in 

 these places. The only nests I have seen were on the edge of the 

 village under a lean-to attached to a small warehouse. I was able to 

 keep the children away from one nest and the three young left the 

 day after I banded them. The robins are very suspicious of my 

 banding traps; not one has been trapped in two years." 



Spring. — From the warm Southern States the robin starts north- 

 ward early in the year, often in nights of impressive magnitude. 

 George H. Mackay (1897) reports an enormous flight of robins in 

 Florida on February 14, 15, and 16, 1897, observed by James K. 

 Knowlton about 100 miles south of St. Augustine. He says: "They 

 came from a southerly direction, and were continually passing, alight- 

 ing and repassing, on the above dates, the general movement being in 

 a northerly direction. The air was full of them, and their numbers 

 beyond estimate, reminding him of bees. Mr. Knowlton heard that 

 this movement of Robins had been noted for a distance of ten miles 

 away, across the flight." And Peter A. Brannon (1921) writes from 

 Alabama: "The annual migration of Robins through the city of 

 Montgomery, took place this year, during the latter part of February, 

 and for ten days thousands were observed on the city streets." 



As the robins move northward, they follow very closely the advance 

 of the average daily temperature of 37°, and we may look for them in 

 eastern Massachusetts soon after March 10. They take their place 

 at this time in the opening scene of the grand, dramatic pageant of 

 the long spring migration that follows our bleak, and often com- 

 paratively birdless, New England winter. 



The robin, however, does not play a leading part in this initial 

 scene; he is a minor character, not at his best so early in the spring. 

 The main actors in the play are the blackbirds, streaming onto the 

 stage in murky, clattering clouds; the bluebirds, mated already, 

 warbling their charming songs to their ladyloves; the song sparrows, 

 filling every acre with their tinkling music. 



Wendell Taber and I watched a typical arrival of robins on the 

 morning of March 15, 1936, a day when there was a general influx of 

 the birds into Massachusetts. Looking southward across a broad 

 meadow, we saw them coming toward us, the first we had seen, a flock 

 of a dozen or more, flying in open order, but rather evenly spaced, not 

 closely packed like blackbirds. When they came to the northern edge 



