THE STORY OF A BLUE ROBINS’ NEST.



Sir, — As I see you invite members, who have not hitherto done so, to

write something for the magazine, I wonder if the story of my Blue Robins’

nest would be of any interest. Perhaps someone who has kept these birds

will kindly tell me if my experience is the usual one.


I have a handsome pair which have been in my possession a year-and-

a-half. Last summer the hen laid four eggs, coloured a pretty greenish

blue, and sat for some time, but with no result. This year, towards the end

of May, when I began to hope the cold winds were over, I again fastened

up the nest — a cigar box—in their cage, and provided hay, bass, moss, etc.,

the birds were highly delighted, and at once set to work carrying the hay,

etc. They spent very little time over the nest, however, but the hen

immediately began to lay. On the ist June, as nearly as I could judge, she

began to sit, and sat more or less diligently, but would often come off when

I went into the room, to see if I had not some mealworms for her. I

always gave her some, and she would then, generally, return to her duties ;

but sometimes remained off quite a long time, taking exercise and amusing

herself, so that I did not much expect a favourable result. The cock bird

was very attentive, and rarely ate any mealworms himself while his wife

was sitting, but would carefully kill them and then hand them over to her—

she seemed capable of sw r allowing an unlimited number.


On the morning of the 13th of June, thinking it just possible there

?night be a young bird, I gave them a few extra mealworms, plenty of ants’

cocoons, and a fresh dish of their usual food (Abrahams’ mixture and

preserved yolk, mixed with breadcrumbs and made slightly damp). I then

proceeded to attend to the wants of the other birds, but, hearing an

unusual noise, returned to my Robins to see what was taking place, and

there was Mr. Robin flying in an excited state about the cage, flapping his

beautiful wings and uttering little cries of joy and triumph, while he

dangled something in his beak.with which he appeared to wish to feed his

wife. The something proved to be his first-born child ! Mrs. Robin did

not seem to quite approve of the performance, and, with open beak, flew to

the rescue, saying plainly “ Give the baby to me Robert, you are too rough.”

She then proceeded to try to take it from him, and, thinking the nestling

would be torn to pieces, I interfered, and it fell to the floor of the cage—

quite dead, of course. It was a nice fat little thing—I am not sure if it had

ever been fed—it may have had a little preserved yolk. I tried to catch the

cock and take him away, but the cage being large (3ft. long by 3'ft. high) I

found it impossible, without frightening the birds too much, so left the

eggs to their fate. The hen then returned to her nest, and, later in the da}-,

hatched another poor little nestling, with which the parents, no doubt,

went through the same Punch-aud-Judy performance, for I found it dead at

the bottom of the cage (no attempt had been made to feed this one).


Next morning, on taking out the nest, I found another egg, with a

bird apparently alive, but I thought it might as well be drowned as share

the fate of the others, so I put it in water. There were still two more eggs,

making five in all. The parent birds seemed very glad to have no further

trouble, and, as soon as the nest was gone, both at once took a bath —eggs

were all very well, but babies quite a different thing!


When the nest-box w-as taken down, there was nothing in it but a

few strands of liay twisted round : they had taken out all the stuff they put



