THE ROBIN 
By T. GILBERT PEARSON 
Che sPational Association of Audubon Societies 
EDUCATIONAL LEAFLET NO, 46 
No bird holds so prominent a place in the minds of the American people as 
the Robin. It is distinctively a companion of man, and wherever his hand has 
cleared the wilderness the Robin has followed. From Mexico to the Yukon 
the traveler meets it, and the residents will tell him of its coming and going. It 
has passed into the literature of the country, and one reads of it in the books of 
science and of romance. Poets weave its image into their witchery of rhyme, 
lovers fondly spy upon its wooing, and by the fireside of every household chil- 
dren lisp its name when stories are told in the twilight. 
Heedless indeed is the ear that does not hearken when the 
In Spring Robin sings. Loud and clear it calls at dawn, and sweet are the 
childhood memories it brings of fresh green fields swept by 
gentle winds and apple blossoms filled with dew. 
One spring, a pair built their nest on the limb of a balsam standing beside a 
much-used walk near my home. In gathering the material for the nest, the 
greatest care was exercised to work at those hours when there was the least 
chance of being observed. Thus, the greater part was done in the early morning 
when few people were astir. Perhaps one reason for this was that the blades of 
dead grass, twigs, and other nesting material, were then damp and pliable from 
the dews of night, and were much more easily woven into position than after 
they had become dry and brittle. Only during the last few days of construction 
did I detect the birds working in the afternoon. The mud for their nest was 
found by a little pool at the end of a leaky horse-trough. 
On April 18 the nest appeared to be completed, for no more materials were 
brought. On the 22d the female began sitting. I could see her tail extending 
over one side of the nest, her bill pointing upward at a sharp angle from the 
other. She flew off the first day when the half hundred boys who frequented 
the walk came along on their way to dinner. But she soon became accustomed 
to them, and would sit quietly, although numerous heads passed within five or 
six feet. No one disturbed the nest with its four blue eggs, and on May 6 I 
saw her feeding the young. Four days after this event, I noticed the heads of 
the younglings bobbing above the rim of the nest. They were gaining strength 
rapidly. 
The morning of May 17 was cool, and a drizzling rain had been falling for 
some hours. This dreary morning happened to come on the day when the 
young Robins desired to leave the nest. Rain could neither dampen their de- 
sire nor check their plans. At seven o’clock, three of them were found sitting 
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