22 
PICTURES OF BIRD LIFE. 
recommenced the battle. Mr. Dixon (“ Rural Bird Life,” 1880, p. 74) relates how 
he on one occasion heard a rustling at the edge of a rivulet, and saw a Robin 
“ tangled, as it appeared, in the herbage at the edge.” “ I took hold,” he says, 
“of the bird, with the intention of releasing it from its captivity, and was about 
to lift it up, when—judge of my surprise!—I pulled out from under the bank 
a second Robin, that had evidently, when conquered, tried to seek safety by 
squeezing under the bank, also in the water. Both birds, like two warriors bold, 
were locked in deadly embrace, the one first seen being entangled in the breast- 
feathers of its antagonist by its claws. Their plumage, too, was all wet and 
ragged, and they had lost many feathers. After keeping them for a short time, 
I restored them to liberty. The victorious one, I should say, flew quickly off, 
while its terribly exhausted antagonist just managed to gain a thick bush, and was 
soon lost to view.” 
Folk-lore, as well as poetry, has taken the Robin under its protection. Pliny 
has an old wives’ tale how it changes into a redstart during summer. Through¬ 
out Germany its ruddy breast rendered it sacred to Thor, the god of the lightning. 
The Welsh believe that the Redbreast bears drops of water in his bill to assuage 
the sufferings of sinners in torment, but that, flying too near the flames, his 
breast is scorched, and he gains the name of “ Bron-rhuddyn ” (i.e., breast- 
scorched). He feels the winter’s cold more than other birds as he returns from 
the land of fire, and therefore comes shivering to man for protection. In this 
beautiful fancy Kelly sees an ancient pagan tradition altered to suit popular 
notions of Christianity, and points to it as one of the many legends relating to 
the gift of fire to men from heaven. In Northamptonshire, from something of a 
similar feeling for the Robin, it is said that weasels and wild cats will neither 
molest Robins nor eat them when dead. It were well, many lovers of birds 
will wish, if the domestic cat were imbued with the same reverence, for no bird 
falls a more frequent victim to its cruelty during winter. The red hue of the 
Robin’s breast is accounted for in Brittany by another beautiful belief, which 
reminds us of the folk-lore explanation for the crossbill’s beak. It took a thorn 
away from the crown which the Saviour wore on the cross ; this dyed its 
breast, and ever since Robins have been dear to men. In Scotland, however, 
the song of the Robin is thought to bring ill luck to the hearer if he be sick, 
and the same belief holds in Northamptonshire. It becomes there a harbinger of 
death, and is said to tap three times at the window of a dying person’s room 
(Henderson, “Folk-lore”). 
