A Tough Old Bird

Robin In Autumn
Robin In Autumn

As November sneaks up on us, peeping furtively from behind reddening bunches of Hawthorn berries, those of our trees who are so inclined have turned a very nice shade of gold. Many other of our trees have already become thoroughly bored with the whole business – dumped their leaves unceremoniously on the ground, pulled up the shutters, turned off the lights and gone to bed.
Today’s picture is of The Robin-Down-By-The-Beck. He is a survivor. This time of year is when he shows his true colours. He needs to establish his territory – and all trace of the milk of human kindness has been leeched from his veins. He intends to share with no one. Kith or kin, man, woman or child, they will gain access to his winter resources, quite literally, only over his dead body.
The majority of robins do not survive beyond their first year – not due to predatory domestic pets, nor the destruction of his habitat by humans. No, they are slaughtered by their own kind in internecine warfare.
Indeed, far from being an angelic chorister, he (or she) is a belligerent, anti-social loud-mouth.

2 thoughts on “A Tough Old Bird

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