The Birds and Poets 235 



to see him after every snowstorm, when most 

 of the available food in the neighborhood was 

 covered up. 



The winter was exceptionally cold, and there 

 were several periods of high northwest winds, with 

 sub-zero temperatures, but the robin was a fairly 

 regular boarder at my pantry window ledge, prov- 

 ing again that food, and not temperature, is the 

 controling factor in fall migration. 



The bird did not seem at all inconvenienced by 

 ordinary winter weather, and usually appeared 

 well fed and happy. He was quiet most of the 

 time, but one morning, while perched in the cherry 

 tree, I heard his familiar spring "Chirp, Chirp!" 

 but in a rather disconsolate key. I answered him 

 with a mimicking whistle, and he immediately 

 became greatly excited, chirping loudly, and as 

 I continued to return his call he jumped and 

 twitched about among the branches, all aquiver 

 with eager expectancy, uttering the alarm note 

 frequently heard during the nesting season. This 

 solitary straggler was doubtless very lonesome for 

 his fellows in the south, and he was overjoyed 

 for the moment, thinking he had found one of 

 them. He shortly discovered the fraud and 

 stopped chirping, in apparent disgust. I have 

 often mimicked a robin's call in the summer, but 

 have seldom been successful in getting any response 

 from the bird, probably because the genuine robin 

 calls were all around me, but this winter robin's 

 response was so sudden as to startle me. The lordly 



