THE ROBIN 



261 



part at the approach of winter. Often the late spring snows 

 catch it on its early migration, and its staying powers are put 

 to the test. It is a good plan to scatter food for these early 

 birds. Nothing save the sun itself is more gladdening on a 

 raw March day than the joyous note by which the Robin 

 announces the arrival of himself and spring. 



Who is there who can know the Robin and not love him? 

 Few, indeed; and those 

 persons around New 

 York and in some parts 

 of the South who shoot 

 Robins for food are 

 wholly unfit to inhabit 

 the Robin's country, 

 unless they reform. 1 



The Robin is one of 

 the sweetest and most 

 joyous songsters I 

 know. As well try to 



describe the glories of a sunset as to set forth in words the 

 liquid melody, clear and sweet, which pours from his throat 

 when he feels particularly joyous. 



Everywhere the Robin is a very sociable bird, and ex- 

 ceeding quick to distinguish a friend from a foe. Give it 



1 "In central Tennessee are large tracts of cedars, the berries of which serve to 

 attract myriads of Robins in the winter. One small hamlet in this district sends 

 to market annually enough Robins to return $500, at five cents jier dozen, equal to 

 120,000 birds." They arc killed at night by torchlight, with sticks. An officer of 

 the Louisiana Audubon Society states that a conservative estimate of the number 

 annually killed in Louisiana for food purposes is a (jiuirter of a million when they 

 are usually plentiful. — William Dutcker, in Educational Leaflet No. 4, of the National 

 Association of Audubon Societies. 



ROBIN. 



