CHAPTER IV 



THE ROBIN AT ARM'S LENGTH 



NO bird is better known in America than the Robin who 

 annually visits nearly every part of the continent. Upon 

 the whole it shuns the forest and comes to the haunts of 

 man, to the farm, the village, and the city street, with their 

 attractive orchards and parks, their long lines of shade trees 

 and green lawns. 



Is it possible to say anything new about such a familiar per- 

 sonality? Not much, you may think, yet it will be interesting 

 to study our friend at a closer range than is usually possible. 

 In this case we shall "make the mountain come to Mahomet," 

 or bring the nest from the tree top to a point nearer the ground, 

 where there is no foliage to obscure our vision, and where we 

 can see everything that transpires within reach of the hand. 



Birds differ slightly in every bodily character, as well as in 

 every mental trait, arid while we commonly meet with average 

 types, extremes of temperament are by no means rare. This 

 fact is illustrated by the Robins whose history follows. 



One pair dwelt in the woods and was exceedingly wary, 

 while the other was comfortably settled in town, and lived on a 

 familiar footing with man. The town Robins had, I suspected, 

 already led forth a brood from a pine tree on the bank close to 

 my house, but at all events there was a new nest in the apple 

 tree on the top of the hill, and on the twenty-fifth of July the 

 mother bird was sitting on three blue eggs. Incubation lasted 

 about two weeks, and life at the nest about twelve days. 



When the young were eight days old, the entire bough was 

 sawn off, carefully lowered to the ground, and set up on the 



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