ROBIN 



alarm them. I noticed the male bird at the well one day drinking 

 water from the boards. 



Soon after he left I set out a dark, shallow baking-pan, 

 filled it with water and instructed every one going there to see 

 that it was freshly filled. The table crumbs were scattered by it, 

 and in a few days both birds drank and bathed there and came 

 regularly for food. They did like bread and milk and hard- 

 boiled egg.) It was while they were bathing and feeding about 

 that I especially noticed the male. He was the biggest, bright- 

 est, most alert and knowing-looking Robin I had ever seen, and I 

 had been accustomed to them almost every summer of my life. 

 Immediately apples and fruit were added to his diet, suet and 

 scraped beefsteak, grubs spaded up in the garden and anything 

 I thought him likely to eat that was not salty. It was amazing 

 the way that bird grew, and he carried food to his mate until she 

 was above the average Robin size. 



He not only developed in body, but he grew strong in every 

 way, for no other Robin could come near his vocal powers. His 

 song was the same old song of cheer, but there was a depth of 

 volume, a mellowness of note, a perfection of accent that outdid 

 all other performers of orchard and wood. And he seemed to 

 know it. He would perch on a peach-tree near the plum and sing 

 his opening strain. Then he would pause as if considering it. 

 Then he would repeat it and raise a little louder, fall a shade 

 deeper and cling to his notes until he came to the final, always 

 abrupt. He would think it over again and begin anew and when 

 he had repeated his strain five or six times he was in a frenzy of 

 ecstasy with his own performance, stretching to full height, his 

 throat swollen, his eyes gleaming, every muscle tense, and in all 

 bird-land there was but a faint breath of harmony to surpass him. 



