THE ROBIX. 71 



his habits ma\- be obsen^ed at all seeisons : he is not shy, 

 and his sharp notes will be heard soon after you enter 

 his haunt. If we tarry long in one situation, be it the 

 wood, coppice, field, or garden, the Robin is almost sure 

 to visit us, and, provided we remain quiet, and it is not 

 the moulting season, approach closely and pour out his 

 rich and plainti\-e song. 



There is not a songster in Great Britain, no, not even 

 tlie sweet Nightingale himself, that possesses a song so 

 rich and plaintive as this little red-breasted chorister. 

 So plaintive are some of his notes, that the\- border on 

 sadness, and never fail to fill the lover of animated 

 nature with ecstas}", as they pour, O so sweet, from his 

 little throat. His song cannot fail to awaken a thrill of 

 plejisure e\'en in tlie casual observer — cannot fail to con- 

 vince him of the trustful familiarity displayed in his 

 various motions. He will approach you closely, and 

 pour out his sweet song witliin a few feet of \our head, 

 or perched up in the spreading branches of the statel}' 

 oak under which j-ou are standing, his flaming breast 

 contrasting beautifully with tlie sober tints of the lugged 

 baik, and his bright e\-es looking trustfully at you, he 

 will greet }'ou with his melodw The Robin daily visits 

 the same perching-place to sing his evening song, and 

 strictly guards it from any intrusion. Here every even- 

 ing in the cheerless month of November a Robin comes 

 and sits upon the topmost branches of a mulberrv tree 

 r.nd gives forth his even-song ; while another comes 

 nightlj- to perch on a stick projecting from a hajstack ; 

 and a third chooses as his perching-place a heap of 

 timber in a farmxard. \'ery often t\vo Robins ma\- be 

 heard singing in concert. First one will pour forth his 

 loudest and clearest tones, his little throat swellincr with 

 the exertion ; then tlie otlier stationed near at hand will 



