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| American Robins in my backyard pond |
"Turdus migratorius," as they were unpoetically named by some long-dead ornithologist, pass through twice a year. Though there are always a few small bands of stragglers, they never stay more than a day or two. I am always sorry to see them heading south for winter, taking summer with them. But they spend the cold months in the Bahamas and Bermuda, among other places, so they're probably having a better winter than I here in frozen north Florida. Their all-too-brief passing in spring makes me smile. Soon the earth will reawaken and the flowers will bloom again.
It is far too late for them to be heading south and seemed a bit too early to be heading north. But sure enough, I peeked into the back yard and the ancient oak tree was alive with robins, their cheery conversation filling the crisp morning air. Thronging around my little pond they chattered happily to each other as they bathed, drank, and splashed in the icy water.
Within a few hours, as quickly as they came, they were gone. Their brief sojourn brought a happy smile to my day. And I couldn't help but wonder what robins talk about on long journeys.
