John Burroughs calls him, of all
our birds, "the most native and democratic."
How the robin dominates birddom with his strong, aggressive personality! His
voice rings out strong and clear in the early morning chorus, and, more
tenderly subdued at twilight, it still rises above all the sleepy notes about
him. Whether lightly tripping over the lawn after the "early worm," or rising
with his sharp, quick cry of alarm, when startled, to his nest near by, every
motion is decided, alert, and free. No pensive hermit of the woods, like his
cousins, the thrushes, is this joyous vigorous "bird of the morning." Such a
presence is inspiriting.
Does any bird excel the robin in the great variety of his vocal expressions?
Mr. Parkhurst, in his charming "Birds' Calendar," says he knows of "no other
bird that is able to give so many shades of meaning to a single note, running
through the entire gamut of its possible feelings. From the soft and mellow
quality, almost as coaxing as a dove's note, with which it encourages its
young when just out of the nest, the tone, with minute gradations, becomes
more vehement, and then harsh and with quickened reiteration, until it
expresses the greatest intensity of a bird's emotions. Love, contentment,
anxiety, exultation, rage -- what other bird can throw such multifarious
meaning into its tone? And herein the robin seems more nearly human than any
of its kind.
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