1 - Robin Redbreast | My Site 28771

A Country Year - Robin Redbreast.

January 1st to January 18th

Robin (Erithacus rubecula). Sandringham Country Park.

From the Norfolk Chronicle (1862) - January is the open gate of the year, shut until the shortest day has passed, but now open to let in the lengthening daylight, which will soon fall upon dim patches of pale green, that shew where spring is still sleeping. Sometimes between the hoary pillars - when the winter is mild - a few wan snowdrops will peep out and catch the faint sunlight which streams in coldly through the opening gateway, like timid messengers sent to see if spring has yet stirred from her long sleep. But it is too early for the hardy crocus to throw its banded gold along the pathway; and as for the "rathe primrose," it sits huddled in its little cloak of green, or is seen peeping through its half-closed yellow eye, as if watching the snow-flakes as they fall. Only the red-breasted robin his heart filled with hope - sings his cheerful song in the naked hawthorn spray, through which the tiny buds are striving to break forth, like a herald proclaiming glad tidings, and making known, far and wide, that ere long "the winter will be over and gone," and the moonlight-coloured May blossoms will once again appear.

Beside the brook, in ivied nook,

The redbreast softly sings,

And in the oak, the missel bird

Calls forth his winter tune.

They little know, this merry pair,

That they are heralds of the year.

So very soon, the winter gloom

Will brighten day by day,

From wild and wet, and grey and white,

To hints of green, and sunny sights.

And by and by, a happy thong

Will join the merry two in song.

But beside the brook, in ivied nook,

The redbreast softly sings,

And in the oak, the missel bird

Calls forth his winter tune.

They little know, this merry pair,

That they are heralds of the year.

Poem: The First Day of January.

A Country Year - Robin Redbreast.

January 1st to January 18th

From British Birds by William Henry Hudson (1896) - Redbreast. Here, where good singers are not few, the robin is among the best. Not only is he a fine singer, but in a voiceless autumn season, and in winter, when the other melodists that have not left our shores are silent, the robin still warbles his gushing, careless strain, varying his notes at every repetition, fresh and glad and brilliant as in springtime. His song, indeed, never seems so sweet and impressive as in the silent and dreary season. For one thing, the absence of other bird-voices causes the robin's to be more intently listened to and better appreciated than at other times, just as we appreciate the nightingale best when he 'sings darkling' - when there is no other strains to distract attention. There cannot be doubt that the robin gives us more pleasure with his music that any other singing-bird.

Robin (Erithacus rubecula). Sandringham Country Park.

From Weather Lore by Richard Inwards - East Anglia.

If the robin sings on the barn, Then the weather will be warm.

If the robins sings in a bush, Then the weather will be course.

the Norfolk News by Henry Stevenson (1867) - As a weather guide to those who closely study the habits of birds, the robin is indeed a feathered barometer, and often I have proved the truth of an old countryman's remark - "Twill be fine yet, sir; that robin is singing higher up in the tree than he did this morning." Should a bright interval also occur before sunset, after a day's rain, he still cheers us with a merry note, though at times, as I have frequently noticed, he perches only midway on the trees and bushes. On the other hand, though his song may be heard at times during unsettled weather, how doleful he seems when the clouds are heavy with impending rain; how his little mandibles then vibrate together with a peculiarly querulous sound, as though his spirits fell with the occasion, and no doubt they do! for watch him again some fine autumn evening, when the sun setting leaves a glorious sky and gnats in waltzing myriads proclaim a fine to-morrow, where is he then? There! on the highest twig nearest to heaven, where every leaf stands out, clear and distinct against the deep blue sky, warbling his heartfelt satisfaction in the scene, his little vesper hymn.

A Country Year - Robin Redbreast.

January 1st to January 18th

From The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett (1911) - The robin flew from his swinging spray of ivy on top of the wall and he opened his beak and sang a loud, lovely trill, merely to show off. Nothing in the world is quite as adorably lovely as a robin when he shows off and they are nearly always doing it.

Surprisingly, the Cock Robin, singing a varied little tune in yonder bush, may not actually be a male bird. In most bird species just the males sing, but among the robins both the males and the females sing, during the months of autumn and winter, to define and protect their separate feeding territories from intruders. Now, is it a male or a female singing in yonder bush? Telling the sex of a robin is nigh impossible in the field, as sexes are so very similar. In January, if two robins are seen together, and appear quite content with each other, they are likely to be one of each type, and newly paired up for the coming season. According to the fourteenth century poet and author, Geoffrey Chaucer, this pairing happens for all birds on the day of St. Valentine, but, some robins, already eager for the forthcoming spring activities, just cannot wait that long.

The Thetford and Watton Times Rev. R. C. Nightingale, Beechamwell (1896) - The robin is in a peaceful mood to-night and is singing, oh! so sadly sweet on the elm block beside the church path. The grey walls send his dirge back again, and it sounds as though he hymned those that are sleeping beneath. His father knew them all. They are old inhabitants, those red-breasts. Long, long ago, before the Saxons built yonder round tower they were here. Before the great dyke that defends our village on one side was raised, or longer back still, before the stone weapons that we find on our warrens were chipped, his ancestors sung in the field by the well that gives the parish its name.

We think much of red-breasts in Norfolk. Where they performed the holy deed which has made them famous throughout the world is not very far off, and there are those who still hear at night the sobbing of the babes as they lie down to die in the wood.

The somewhat old and well-known legend often entitled "The Babes in the Wood" is claimed by the people of Norfolk. It centres around two young, orphaned children who went to live with their uncle. Telling his wife he was sending the boy and girl to London, the uncle tasked two men to do away with them. The men, unable or unwilling to go ahead with the dreadful deed left them instead not far away in Wayland Wood where they probably wandered alone and lost, before lying down beneath the canopy a tree. This is where they were to die. A kindly robin is said to have covered the little ones with fallen leaves.

The tale is thought to have involved Edmund de Grey, of nearby Griston Hall, and his two sons. Thomas de Grey was the elder son. He inherited the Hall from his father, and all that went with it. Robert de Grey was the younger son, and the, so called, "wicked" uncle. If his elder brother, Thomas de Grey, died young, which he did, and then all the descendants of Thomas were to die, Edmund de Grey's property would be destined for his younger son, Robert de Grey. An account of the event was first published, at Norwich, on a "Broadside" in the year 1595.

Wayland Wood, that once covered many square miles of Norfolk countryside, still has its robins, and the remaining section of the ancient Woodland, just a mere shadow of its former self, is a botanist's paradise. Before the trees leaf up in the Spring, and the canopy closes over, much can be discovered.

A Country Year - Robin Redbreast.

January 1st to January 18th

Robin (Erithacus rubecula). Sandringham Country Park.

From Birds of The Norfolk by Henry Stevenson and Thomas Southwell (1866) - Redbreast. Everywhere welcome and protected, and therefore everywhere common, the history of the Robin in Norfolk, all in all other counties in England, is but a "twice told tale." Resident with us throughout the year, each garden and shrubbery in town and country, each fence by the roadside, or in open fields, has its pair of Redbreasts, ever ready "to do battle" for their rights, against all kindred intruders upon their prescribed domain. In winter, drawing nearer to our homes, they claim our sympathy, and with a bold confiding nature which has won them an almost sacred place in every English heart, seek at our doors and windowsills the proffered crumbs.

From the Norwich Mercury (1904) - A pretty little instance of a robin's friendliness occurred to me only a few days ago. I was walking over a wide space of wild ground in which there stands the solitary ruins of an old abandoned cottage. As I passed over the open ground many kinds of birds were taking alarm and flying into the distance; only as I approached the ruined cottage, one small bird flew from the bushes round it straight towards me, and alighted in a bush only a few feet off in full view. Of course it was a robin, and its action seemed to be - and indeed probably was - a sort of unconscious welcome on the bird's part to a human tenant of the home that it had found in the wilderness. No other bird would have rejoiced to see a human presence returning to it. It is this attitude of mind which is so marked in some robins that there are many instances on record of robins which have taken food from the hand and allowed themselves to be touched at their first interview with a human being.

From the Downham Market Gazette (1898) - Familiar with man he has always been, if we may credit stories of the wonderful places he has chosen on occasions for nest building - libraries, school-rooms, and the like - and once indeed his 'piety' was established by raising his family upon the Bible in a church. It is this boldness of advance that Robin has always made himself a favourite with mankind.

Main Page