Blogger: Aggie Rothon, Communications Officer
Give me a nightingale's voice on a balmy, scented evening or the trembling notes of a mistle thrush in full song. Give me the smoky romance of a curlew calling on a mist filled morning or the echoing sob of a buzzard skimming the watery sky above. I would revel in them all, but would miss the call of a robin the most.
To me the robin's is the sweetest of all songs. It is with us on the chill breeze of a March morning and fills the December stillness with a song as delicious as the marzipan and jewel-wrapped sweets the season brings. Listen carefully to the convolutions of a dawn chorus in the blooming of Spring and you will hear the joyful tones of a robin first, using the earliest cracks of dawn-light to encourage the blackbirds and chaffinches to take up their places in the orchestra of morning.
And is there a prettier bird? He sits, full of belly and sleek of tail, bright red against bright yellow moss astride my crumbling garden wall. He sings gustily, opening his throat and trilling, reminding us all; the trees, the rooks, the fox hidden in the hedge line how lucky we are to be out there with the damp air on our skins and the vigour of a new season in the air.
It is these generous qualities that have given rise to so many characters being assigned the name too. There is the insightful Robin Goodfellow, the brave Robin Hood, Robin, faithful partner to Batman and the star-like pink of the beautiful ragged robin in flower. My favourite of all however is my young son, Robin.
Just like his avian counterpart Robin has big, dark eyes. He takes on his tasks, just like the bird sings; intensely and heartily. A robin chick will fly just days after hatching and my son too is an independant little spirit. I watch his games and his amblings and his inner world and see so clearly the blossoming of his new and separate personality.
I will enjoy Robin's company at home for some years yet but when my little boy is no longer a little boy and he is out taking on the world by himself I hope I will still be accompanied by his winged namesake. I look forward to many more years hearing the scattering of a robin's feet as he alights the garden fence to watch me at my work. I want to still hear his song and feel his spirit and gusto. In a world to often leaving the natural world to fend for itself, I'll do all I can to preserve this happening.
The dew on a summer lawn, the blue tip of a jay's feather, the cawing of a rookery at work. What natural phenomenon is special to you? Step up for nature and help us save those moments. Go to www.rspb.org.uk/stepup2020
Photo credit: Ben Hall (rspb-images.com). Article in Eastern Daily Press on 19th March 2011.
Very poetical, spring is in in your prose