Robins

ROBINS

 

As a child, much of my understanding of the natural world was England based.

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"

 
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.








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.



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.