ROBINS
I knew more more squirrels and baby deer than I did about possums and kangaroo joeys. I knew all about Moley and Badger, more than I did of Blinky Bill and bandicoots.
I knew about robin red-breasts, with their scarlet coats. One of my earliest memories is myself, skipping around a muddy back yard singing a little song my grandmother taught me.
"Little robin red breast sits in the tree,
Up goes pussy and down went he"
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I had seen our robin red-breasts and thought they were the same as those seen in England.
I have just spent 6 weeks in Oxford. How disappointing when I saw the English robins in the garden. Cheeky and cheery as they were, their chests were a dull rusty colour. Where were the rosy red robins I had known and believed to be in England?
No red breasts at all. Rusty, perhaps even orange, but hardly red. I looked through all the books and internet sites I could find. No Scarlet Robins, no Flame Robins, no Pink Robins. No Yellow or Rose or Red-capped Robins either.
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Just the European or Red-breasted Robin, Erithacus rubecula
The disappointment only lasted a short while. They are a cheeky, inquisitive and entertaining bird and a little larger than most Australian robins. Whilst digging in the garden, they would be around my feet, waiting to see what I turned up. The shyer ones would sit on the handle of my spade or on a perch above my head, watching and waiting. Very friendly, very sociable. I soon became entranced with them.
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It is very easy for we Australians to take our bird life for granted. We are so lucky to enjoy the beauty and the variety of birds we have around us.