The Masters of Melody. 87 



at this time of year robins are never alone. It 

 may appear so for a time, but when the bird you 

 are watching is ready to move on his call will be 

 answered by others that you have not seen, and 

 half a dozen at least will fly off to new scenes. 

 This is often noticed on a much larger scale when 

 we flush robins in a field. They are generally 

 widely scattered, and, go where you will, there will 

 be one or two hopping before you ; but when one 

 takes alarm the danger-cry is heard by all, and 

 a great flock will gather in the air in an incred- 

 ibly short time. Robins are not lovers of frozen 

 ground ; they know where the earth resists frost, 

 down in the marshy meadows, and there they con- 

 gregate in the dreary midwinter afternoons after 

 spending the morning feeding upon berries. I have 

 seen them picking those of the cedar, poison ivy, 

 greenbrier, and even the seedy, withered fruit of the 

 poke ; but at times this question of food-supply 

 must be a difficult problem to solve, and then they 

 leave us for a while until pleasanter weather pre- 

 vails, when they venture back. During the last 

 twenty years, however, the movements of the robins 

 have been little influenced by the weather. 



In April, when the chill of winter is no longer in 

 its bones, the robin becomes prominent, and the 

 more so because of the noise it makes. It sings 

 fairly well, and early in the morning there is a world 

 of suggestiveness in the ringing notes. The song is 

 loud, declamatory, and acceptable more for the pleas- 

 ant thoughts it occasions than for the actual melody. 



