THE OREGON SPORTSMAN 125 
Robins’ food is mainly earthworms, but all sorts of insects are 
eaten, and, as with the small boy, cherries and strawberries are 
irresistible to them. But let them have a little of our fruit; they cer- 
tainly have honestly earned it by the same token that “an honest man 
is worth his hire,” and Robins certainly work for us from early morn 
’til dewy eve. 
I am convinced that all of our Robins go south for the winter; 
those remaining with us are probably visitors from farther north. 
In the migrating season they love to get together like the swal- 
lows and usually have a favorite place to congregate in, for sleeping. 
Mr. Finley says that in one such roost in Berkeley, California, he 
estimated over six thousand robins sleeping together—coming from 
long distances. This spring I made note of several flights of 
migratory Robins through East and West Moreland when they would 
scatter over the fields a hundred to the acre, and there are many, 
many acres of open land there. On other days scarcely a bird was to 
be seen. 
No other bird sings with quite the cheery, ringing song of the 
Robin, and with such a seemingly pure delight in living. 
The young learn to sing while in the nest, though they make no 
sounds like singing at that period. Later, when they have learned to 
pick up their own food, you may (if you are listening for it) hear a 
quiet little Robin song coming from some spotted youngster in the 
cool lower branches of an apple tree or other shady nook. I have 
purposely kept young Robins away from their own kind and near 
other species and found them imitating the other species, though, of 
course, with the Robin voice or rather clear musical whistle. 
A nest of youngsters raised among the English Sparrows in the 
ivy on the walls of Nassau Hall in Princeton learned to chirp like the ' 
Sparrows and always mixed their Robin songs with Sparrow chirps, 
though clearer, purer and far sweeter. 
THE VARIED THRUSH 
Ixoreus naevius (Gmel.) 
The Varied Thrush, also Known as the Alaska Robins, are birds 
of the high altitudes, choosing for their homes the brushy, open 
stretches among the dark spruce forests where berries abound. There 
one can hear, though seldom see, these beautiful birds. 
My first introduction to the song of this species was in the 
MacKenzie valley, on the way to Three Sisters, well up toward the 
6000-foot level. I was startled by a resonant, long drawn-out whistle, 
repeated several times, with a slight variation in the pitch, but all in 
the minor key; beginning very soft, swelling to a full tone, then 
fading away to nothing—extremely wierd and very mysterious. 
Their nest is bulky; in bushes and low trees. The eggs are four; 
pale greenish blue, sparsely marked with brown. The breeding range 
is from Northern California to Alaska. 
When the snows of winter lie deep upon the mountains, driving 
these shy dwellers of the solitudes down to our valleys, we see them 
in our orchards eating the leftover apples, sometimes in flocks, often 
singly, but always silent. Watch your bird’s feeding table; you may 
see a bird or two about the size and color of a robin with yellowish 
barr on his wings, a yellow stripe over the eye and a black or blackish 
band over the breast. That is the Varied Thrush. 
