The fascinating following of a robin, both in song and in flight. Thirty-five years ago, right after I bought this place, robins would come through in the spring, but I haven't seen them in years since suburbia has taken over the scrub lands that this development was built on. I miss them. And remember seeing them constantly in search of earthworms all summer in Wisconsin where I grew up. I kept thinking they were eating so well that they were actually getting bigger and someday would be the size of chickens. Unfortunately, they would probably taste like woodcock, also earthworm eaters--really nasty, gamy.
One year, a robin blown in by a spring wind, sheltered by my cedar fence, spent several days in front of my sliding glass door on the deck I had recently built. Thinking back now, the bird was probably resting after flying across the Gulf of Mexico on its annual trek north.
Bonjour Dan ! Hope you're having a GREAT July 4th lunch ! Many thanks for the visit and for communing with the little bird making music out of its every gesture and tweet. I must add that the original format of the poem attempts to trace its movements from bush to terrace to clothesline until it takes to the air in triumph, but I just don't know how to replicate the structure on to AD's page. Anyhow, that doesn't matter it would seem to those who aren't aware of the original form. Thanks again for the comment. Every good wish for the rest of the DAY !
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One year, a robin blown in by a spring wind, sheltered by my cedar fence, spent several days in front of my sliding glass door on the deck I had recently built. Thinking back now, the bird was probably resting after flying across the Gulf of Mexico on its annual trek north.
Ron
Cheers,
Dan