1 Young Robins in their first dress of feathers do not at all resemble their parents." 



THE ROBIN 



N 



EXT to the house sparrow, 

 Robin Redbreast is, per- 

 haps, the most familiar bird 

 of the country-side. It is 

 partly resident and partly 

 migratory, and it is said 

 that individuals wintering 

 away from our fog-laden 

 climate are brighter in coloration when 

 they return in the spring than those 

 that have been faithful to the land of 

 their nativity. 



Few birds are held in such venera- 

 tion by all classes of the community. 

 And there are many reasons to account 

 for this. Its bold, engaging manners, 

 usefulness in gardens, and the fact 

 that it enlivens our leafless hedgerows 

 with its sweet and plaintive song when 

 nearly all other feathered vocalists 

 are silent, are not the least amongst 

 them. 



12 89 



Robins usually build their nests in 

 holes in banks, and in walls where a 

 brick or a stone has fallen out, but 

 frequently select the oddest quarters 

 for their little homes of leaves, rootlets, 

 moss and hair. I have seen them in 

 bookcases in occupied bedrooms, in horse- 

 collars hanging up in stables, inside old 

 kettles, teapots, coffee-pots, jam jars, 

 old tin cans and even husks of coco- 

 nuts emptied by tits during the previous 

 winter. 



The eggs, as a rule, number five or 

 six, but as many as seven and even 

 eight may upon occasion be found. They 

 are white or pale grey, freckled, and 

 blotched with dull light red. 



Young Robins in their first dress of 

 feathers do not at all resemble their 

 parents, for, instead of having olive- 

 brown backs and orange-red breasts, 

 they are clothed in coats of sober brown 



