Summer, like every good party, is coming to an end. Friends are headed out, and as they depart you realize you barely had time to visit with some of them. The Robins, especially; you noticed their arrival (for they are always punctual), and you really meant to hang out with them for a while. But then the flashy warbler showed up from the other coast, and there was the shorebird who was visiting all the way from Siberia and that whole group of broadwings... and once again the Robins were on their way.
Next year, for sure.
The thing about robins is that it's so easy to take them for granted. If you live anywhere in North America other than the Arctic Circle, they live with you for at least part of the year. (And with climate change, the Arctic Circle will probably be seeing them soon as well.) You know you're going to be seeing them regularly, so you might not put the effort into getting to know them better because there will always be another opportunity. But it's exactly because you see them so regularly that you should get to know them. By really knowing this most common of birds, you'll be a better birder overall.
Know your neighbor!
In the past, I've occasionally mentioned the way we teach hawk ID at the GGRO, which can be easily summed up as “why is this not a redtail?” Too big, too small, wings too pointy or too round, look at that white rump... that sort of thing. And so it is with songbirds and other smaller birds - “why is this bird not a robin?” (or keeping with the theme, "why is this not a readbreast?") Well, to answer that, you need to know what a robin is.
It's a bird in the thrush family that's about 10” from beak to tailtip. Get to know that size – look at robins perched in your trees, on your fencepost and in your birdbath, and you'll get a sense of what a bird of that size should look like compared to those benchmarks. When an unfamiliar bird lands on your fence, you'll have a better idea of whether it's larger or smaller than a robin because you've taken the time to make that comparison.
Remembering how big three robins are can help you estimate how big six Bushtits are.
A robin is a bit of an omnivore, and its beak reflects that. Like other thrushes, it's not the conical seed-crunching beak of a finch or cardinal or a sparrow (that's why you don't normally see robins at your birdfeeder). Instead it has a long-ish, narrow bill that tapers to a point at the end – good for poking down and grabbing earthworms and insects. But they can open wide and gobble down berries in the winter as well.
That feeding behavior is something to get to know. Like several other birds, you'll see them feeding on lawns. Watch how they move around, and compare that to the starlings, blackbirds and sparrows that you see sharing the low, grassy areas. Though you think you'd never confuse them, think about the actions of robins vs. killdeer as well – they're similar sized birds who like low grass in parklands.
They also forage in trees, especially when there is a ripe crop of berries. In my area (San Francisco), they often form mixed flocks with Cedar Waxwings, swarming toyon or pyracantha trees and gobbling the fruit. (It may not be true that they get “drunk” on fermented berries, but the flocks are certainly lively and vocal.) Watch the robins as they move through the trees, hopping from spot to spot, vs. the gleaners who forage along branches as they look for insects. If that robin-sized bird starts clinging to the trunk or walking upside down along branch … it's not a robin.
Robins' feeding on insects led to an unfortunate starring role in one of the most important books in the environmental movement – Silent Spring. The birds suffered secondary poisoning from DDT, which was sprayed far and wide in the post-war era. Seeing robins dead and dying on lawns was one of the things that led Rachel Carson to write her landmark book. What had been huge, chattering flocks of birds were disappearing, and leaving behind a quieter world in their wake.
Wish I could find the video I made of this scene - they had a lot to say.
Speaking of the noisy flocks, robins are also a good starting point to learn birdsong. They're not just common enough that you'll have ample opportunity to hear them, they are also vocal throughout the year. Like all birds, they sing most in spring when they're establishing and defending territories, but they continue to sing regularly at other time of year. Beyond singing, they have a number of calls and other vocalizations that are pretty readily identifiable.
The song is a good one to learn because you can compare and contrast with other birds; it has a fluid, flutish quality and is pretty consistent across the country. (Not like the Meadowlarks who vary significantly from east to west.) From learning the basic robin song, I saw my first Black-headed Grosbeak many years ago – I knew from listening to recordings that it sounded like a speeded-up robin. When I heard that song near our cabin, I started searching and had my lifer. For those of you in the east, Rose-breasted Grosbeak (and to a lesser degree, Cardinal) have that same cadence. Likewise, Western Tanagers have a similar but harsher song - like a Robin after too much whiskey and cigarettes. A burbling song that's a bit more like a whistle than a flute? Probably a Purple Finch or House Finch. A song that's melodic but all over the place? A thrasher perhaps, or a Mockingbird. The flute-like qualities, but richer still? Another one of the thrushes. The sound of a dawn chorus of thrushes is a truly ethereal experience.
And last, there's the bird's splendid plumage. “Robin Redbreast” is spot on. There is a Robin in Europe as well, which ours is named after – even though they're from entirely different families. If you were travelling abroad and saw this bird, you'd remember it well – rich charcoal grey on back, a black head with white eyerings, white throat and brilliant brick-red breast and belly, with flashy white spots on the corners of the tail. Beautiful! But it's in your back yard, so it's just part of the scenery.
As distinctive as it is, you could confuse it with other birds especially if you don't get a good look at the front or its bill. There's another bird of almost the same size with a dark back and bright red – Eastern or Spotted Towhees (the old Rufous-sided towhee before they were split). If you can see the front, you can see white all up the center of its breast, but seen from the side it looks like the front is all red. The towhee's seed-crunching bill will also tell you it's not a thrush. And if you can only see part of a bird in a tree, and it's got a grey back with red below it could be an adult accipiter – ID's you wouldn't be likely to confuse if they were out on a wire someplace but much trickier for a bird deep in a tree.
Not a robin...
One last thing about plumage, because I'm a geek about these things. Leucism seems to be more common with them than with many other species. I don't know if it's because of some genetic fluke, or because their behavior means leucistic robins are more likely to survive... or maybe they're no more likely than any other species, it's just that I've seen more of them. Anyway, it's cool to spot one with white patches. This one came to my yard not too long ago.
So whether you're about to bid them farewell for the year or if you'll have them with you year-round, spend some time with your robins when you get a chance.