The Robin Who Refused to Leave Home

Home is many things to many people. Generally speaking, it’s a place where one feels loved, accepted, safe, and happy. Never having been a bird, but observing them flying about, I’d say home  for them is usually a warm, high nest with plenty of worms or seeds or mealworms. Mealworms? Not in a robin’s natural diet but great food, nevertheless.

A year ago this spring, my friend Dayla and her two girls discovered a hapless baby robin on the ground in their back yard. These ladies are the kind who naturally like animals of all size and shape, furry and feathered, and their hearts were touched by this helpless little creature who was a sitting duck (in a manner of speaking) for cats. So, they did what compassion compelled them to do–brought him in the house, dug earthworms, cut them up, and offered them to the baby’s hungry, gaping mouth.

It’s now more than a year later. Robin doesn’t want to fly south with his wild kin. He can fly all he wants, in Dayla’s house, from one end to the other. He has no problem with trying to find insects or worms. He gets expensive mealworms, sort of the caviar of bird food. In fact, he turns up his nose–er–beak if offered earthworms. No bird-brain here. This is a bird who knows his own mind. Does he look a bit bedraggled, are his feathers losing their sheen? His anxious parents hover and he is taken to a vet who fixes him up so that he’s chirpy and spry once more.

Robin is now a member of the household who talks to his family, not in words; so far he hasn’t learned mimicry as parrots do. Nevertheless, he responds to human voices and tones. He has his own vocabulary from chirps and songs to other monosyllabic sounds. Why should he fly South? He is with his family,  although he may think it strange that they don’t fly and are a little out-sized compared to him. He is warm in winter and cool in summer. He has all the mealworms he can hold, and he is certainly loved and accepted. He’s one lucky robin and he simply refuses to leave home.