The Redbreast. 55 



this is not the case ; the song is best heard when nature is asleep, j^et is qnite 

 as charming in the spring, when he carols to his mate as she sits upon her 

 dappled eggs ; 3'et he often wanders far away at this period and she, disconsolate 

 and hungry, calls to him with her far-reaching and melanchol}^ tseet, until he 

 reappears and brings some appetizing morsel to reward her patient toil : for it 

 must not be supposed that Finches alone feed their hens upon the nest, many 

 other birds do the same and often have I seen the Robin do so.* 



The food of the Robin is very varied ; small worms, spiders, centipedes, 

 insects and their larvse forming its staple diet during the open months, but it by 

 no means despises currants and cherries, and during the winter it largel}^ subsists 

 upon berries, probably seeds of weeds, and all kinds of household refuse picked 

 up in the farmyard, or purposely thrown out for him by those who love to see 

 a little bright life about their homes during the desolate months of the year. 



As a cage-bird the Redbreast is a great favourite, but it is almost a sin to 

 confine this trusting little fellow, and it is somewhat risky to turn him out 

 into an aviary ; for, although at various times I have kept Robins which 

 never molested other birds, individuals have been known to prove dangerous 

 companions to less active species. A friend of mine, who turned loose a 

 Robin into his aviar}-, lost a Bullfinch, Goldfinch, and Linnet in a single 

 night, the Redbreasted little rufiian having drilled a neat hole into the skull 

 of each of them. 



My first experience of Robins in captivity was in the winter of 1886-7, 

 when I caught twelve and selected the three brightest for pets, letting the 

 remainder fl}-. As usual, these birds readily became quite tame, taking worms, 

 insects, (Src, from my fingers ; indeed one of them did so on the third day 

 after its capture. It soon learned to know me so well that it would follow me 

 from one end of its flight cage to the other. I used to sit down and watch 

 this bird, and I made a note of the number of beats of the wing which were 

 required to take it from one end of its little aviary to the other ; this I 

 could only do accurately by ear, but the number hardlj^ ever varied : I then 

 calculated that, flj'ing in the same manner, the Robin would have to flap its 

 wings 9240 times to cover a mile. Two of these Robins died in the spring, one 

 after eight, and the other after nine months' confinement ; the third I gave away 

 to a friend. 



In September, 1887, I again caged two Robins, the first of which became 

 perfectly tame in about a week and would come at my call to take mealworms 



• The Americati Rluebird is most attentive in this respect, constantlj' and most unselfishly j^iving everv 

 insect to his wife, from the time of courtship until the jonng are hatched. The ordinar}- call-note of our 

 Robin is a short sharp whistled note. 



