THE AMERICAN ROBIN. 2109 
No. 98. 
AMERICAN ROBIN. 
A. O. U. No. 761. Merula migratoria (Linn.). 
Description.—Adult male: Head black, interrupted by white of chin and 
white with black stripes of throat; eyelids and a supraloral spot white; tail 
blackish with white terminal spots on inner webs of outer pair of rectrices; wings 
dusky except on external edges; remaining upper parts grayish slate; below,— 
breast, sides, upper belly and lining of wings cinnamon-rufous; lower belly and 
crissum white, touched irregularly with slate; bill yellow with blackish tip; feet 
blackish with yellowish soles. Adult female: Similar to male, but duller; black 
of head veiled by brownish. Adults in winter: Upper parts tinged with brown, 
the rufous feathers, especially on belly, with white skirtings. Jimmature: Simi- 
lar to adult, but head about the color of back; rufous of under parts paler or 
more ochraceous. J ery young birds are black spotted, above and below. Length 
about 10.00 (254.); wing 5.08 (129.); tail 3.75 (95.3); bill .78 (19.8). 
Recognition Marks.—‘Robin” size; cinnamon-rufous breast; everybody 
knows the Robin. 
Nest, a thick-walled but shapely bowl of mud, set about with twigs, leaves, 
string, and trash, and lined with fine grass-stems; placed anywhere in trees or 
variously, but usually at moderate heights. Eggs, 4 or 5, sometimes 6, greenish 
blue, unmarked. Av. size, 1.15 x .79 (29.2 x 20.1). 
General Range.—E astern United States to the Rocky Mountains, including 
Mexico and Alaska. Breeds from Virginia and Kansas northward to the Arctic 
Coast. Winters from southern Canada and the Northern States (irregularly) 
southward. Casual in Bermuda. Accidental in Europe. 
Range in Ohio.—Abundant summer resident. Casual during winter 
throughout the state. 
MANY birds bear the epithet American to distinguish them from simi- 
lar old world species, but none bear it more worthily nor more proudly than 
the American Robin. Having only a superficial resemblance to the English 
Redbreast or “Robin Redbreast” (Erithacus rubecula), from which it was 
originally named, our sturdy bird is an unmistakable “bird 0’ freedom,” and 
as stich is beloved from Boston Bay to the Golden Gate, and from the Gulf 
to the Forty-ninth parallel—and bevond. With Bluebird alone does Robin 
divide the honors of early spring, and it is nip and tuck between these friendly 
rivals which shall first proclaim the glad tidings of winter’s downfall. 
Sometime in February the first migrant Robins usually pass our southern 
border, and press on with squeeches and pipings of delight to reclaim posses- 
sion of the old haunts. It is not quite clear whether the first migrants are those 
which pass furthest north, or whether the birds move up by successive waves, 
each wave outstripping its predecessor and sweeping over the heads of the 
