An old friend hopped into my yard on Wednesday last week. I was headed out to pick up some items for last Saturday night’s Chukar Run, but paused for a moment to consider the substantial amount of fruit tree, shrub and cane pruning staring back at me. Suddenly, literally feet from my shoes, was my long-anticipated friend, American Robin Turdus migratorius – bringer of spring.
No doubt, you’ve noticed robins, also. It was seeming a bit late, but that could be a result of the winter-that-nearly-refused-to-die with which we were blessed. Of course, a few of the birds (males generally) stayed through winter, but the folks at Annenburg Media’s “Journey North” site report the first migratory robins in the reach from the Lower Yakima Valley to Paradise just in the last few weeks. Those birds were returning from wintering grounds in Guatemala and Central America.
The male’s job is to choose a territory, then defend it as others arrive. Thus, he must be here early. If nasty weather eliminates his food supply for a few days, he can easily survive until the weather reopens. The female, on the other hand, need not hurry as there is nothing much for her to do until there is a dependable food supply and sufficient mud for creating the nest which may be weakened by a hard frost. Then too, if she suffers much hunger, it can limit her body’s ability to make strong viable eggs. So, she will stay on wintering grounds until conditions are most likely to be favorable in summer breeding territories.
At any rate, I was delighted to say hello to the robin boy staking out turf in my yard last week, and wished him well. I anticipate hearing his three or four note song, once his turf is claimed. A twenty- or thirty-minute rendition of his “cheery-up, cheery-me, cheery-up, cheery-me” song of daylight and spring warmth will make me want to dig worms and hand them over.
A California colleague once told me he was sure he’d heard a “robin’s song” in Great Britain. That bird, he was told, was a European blackbird (as in “baked into a pie…”). Turns out that blackbird is also a thrush and of the genus Turdus, like our robin. Our American robin got its name, apparently, because it reminded homesick migrants of England’s “Robin redbreast.” (That little European red-breasted robin (Erithacus rubecula) is a small, roughly sparrow-sized, bird. It was once classified as a member of the family Turdidae, but is now considered to be an old world flycatcher.).
American robins are generalists, like us. They eat a variety of stuff and occupy breeding territories in most any habitat in the West below timberline (except marshes). On our lawns after insects and worms (found by sight, by the way) and in our trees after other edibles, robins seem pretty tame, but in more remote alpine and wilderness areas they can be extremely wary.
You probably know that only a few generations ago, robins were widely hunted for food in the US. More recently, populations were in trouble because of DDT spraying. Earthworms digested sprayed leaves and the poisons ended up in the robins. Many thousands died outright, and reproduction failed for others because DDT concentrated in bird ovaries, causing shell thinning of eggs. Once DDT was no longer used, the birds quickly recovered.
Robin courtship often reminds me of what I see on campus; groups of males pursue a desirable female until she takes a shine to one of them. Once chosen, the male will strut around her with his tail spread, throat inflated and wings shaking.
When vows are properly sealed, the female will begin building a soft‑lined nest of mud and grass in the lucky male’s territory. This we will watch over the next few weeks, as such nests are constructed (generally fairly low) in crotches of deciduous trees or on buildings. Both adults will belligerently defend the nest.
The female may lay half a dozen inch‑long turquoise blue eggs. She will do most of the incubating, but chicks will be fed by both parents and will grow quickly. They will leave the nest looking much like adults, with thickly spotted breasts of orange, white and brown.
Once the first brood fledges, the pair may build another nest, with the hen laying more eggs. If the fledged young are not independent enough, the male will care for them while the female incubates the second clutch of eggs. Rearing baby robins is a big job; a brood of three young may eat 95 or 100 meals a day. Sometimes, robins have help. Several observations have been made of house finches helping adult robins bring food to young. The finches have also been seen sitting nearby and singing while the insatiable youngsters were being fed.
In keeping with the wishes of the Reecer Creek Rod, Gun, Working Dog & Outdoor Think Tank Benevolent Association’s Science Education Committee, I include the following. The American robin’s scientific name is Turdus migratorius. It may reach ten inches in length, and makes its living off grubs, insects (and their larvae), earthworms and fruit.
Track migrations of robins and many other birds on the Annenburg Media site. You can also find pictures, hear songs and learn cool new things at www.learner.org/jnorth/.
Robin gives me hope for spring, for summer and for a good gardening year. I love that song.
