Special Robin

Sunday, January 27, 2024

A few years ago, I rescued an infant Robin after it fell from a nest and landed inside a fenced area where my dogs run freely. I heard its screaming parents, picked up the wide-mouthed baby, carried it where the dogs couldn’t go, and set it down.

I intended to let the parents take care of their infant but worried about its ongoing safety in an open area that hawks may fly over. After struggling about having left the baby, I decided to return for it. The bird became the resident of an unused small birdcage in my garage. I had to find live food, which is what Robins eat, and the ticket was night crawlers, from supplies for fisherfolks. Those juicy eats grew my bird strong.

For weeks, it spent nights in my garage and days perched on a tree limb and waiting for me. I didn’t intend to keep that Robin as a pet, although it was tempting. Finally, one day, I discovered that my bird had flown away–completely.

For days afterward, I walked around in this area and called for my bird. My calls had always brought it flying in and landing on my shoulder, but not now. I could only hope to find someday that it had returned, maybe even nesting here, but there’s no evidence that’s happened.

Since then, on spotting a mature Robin, I whisper, “Are you my bird?”

Dear Friends: It’s much of why I so appreciate and photograph them. Diana