MY ROBIN IS BACK

Readers should take note. In this blog I'm going to dispel a deeply and widely-held belief about Christmas. Those of a timid disposition should beware.

No, I'm not talking about the existence of Father Christmas. That's been proven beyond doubt. Navigate to www.NoradSanta.org if you don't believe me. There you can track his whereabouts as he delivers gifts around the world on Christmas Eve. It's brilliant fun for kids of all ages.

So here we go.... Take a deep breath, it's illusion-shattering time. You know that robin that you've noticed has been around a lot more at this time of year? The one that's been coming back to in your garden for the last however many years?

You know him well. He's 'your' robin, a fiercely territorial chap who will defend his little patch to the death against any interloper. The thing that most triggers this territorial aggression is the thing that makes him stand out. His bright orange chest is like the metaphorical red rag to a bill. He'll lunge at anything that looks even vaguely challenging, even occasionally a small red toy, scrap of cloth or bunch of feathers. He's a proper character.

But take a very careful look at him. Perhaps, just perhaps, you'll see that he may look just a little bit different to last year. Or even to how he did just a few months ago.

This next bit might come as a shock so brace yourself. Even though a few plucky individuals can live for ten years or so, the vast, vast majority of robins don't make it to their second birthday. So that 'individual' that's been coming to your garden for five or more.... Sorry.

And even more surprisingly, there's around a 50% chance that the robin in your garden now isn't even the same one from the summer. Many birds migrate to the warmth of southern Europe in winter. Others come to our relatively warmer winter climate from much colder places like northern Russia or Scandinavia. And surprisingly it's most likely the female of the species that makes the long journey. The males tend to stay and protect their territory. That's great for livening up the gene pool but it should be remembered that only around 40% of chicks that fledge will make it to breeding age. I know, it's a staggeringly small number but it's enough to keep the population stable and feed nature's predators at the same time. It's yet another example of the natural word in perfect balance.

Maybe the bird that you see today is a descendant of one you saw in previous seasons. After all, I'm sure that you'll see a family resemblance. The round body, the red breast, the bolshy attitude... oh, hang on. That describes just about every European Robin on the planet. The truth is, they're very difficult for humans to tell apart. We have many more robins that usual around my Welcome Shed at RSPB Old Moor and the only one that I can identify with any confidence is the one with the ring on its leg.

But amazingly they can remember what YOU look like. Tests have shown that they don't recognise faces but they do remember your general shape and size, your walk and even your clothing. That's why they are much braver around people who they know have fed them in the past. Of course some individuals are so brave that they'll hop onto anyone's hand for the price of a few mealworms.

Perhaps due to their long association with humans, robins have more folk tales associated with them than most birds. They were supposed to have brought the first fire from the heavens to the earth, scorching their fronts in the process and leaving them forever reddened. Then there's the Christian tale of how one of these tiny birds noticed that the baby Jesus was getting overheated by a fire close to his manger, so it fanned the Christ Child with its wings to keep Him cool. Another version of this story goes that the Baby was getting cold so the robin fanned the fire with its wings and so warmed the infant Jesus, Either way, just as in the tale of bringing fire into the world, the little bird's chest was scorched and marked for all time. Another robin was said to be so saddened at Jesus' crucifixion that it tried to remove the crown of thorns from His head. It was unsuccessful but tried so hard that some of His blood smeared its chest feathers, leaving them permanently stained as a mark of holy respect for its efforts.

At a secular level, many old local legends tell of horrific things happening to people who kill, harm or trap robins, or damage their nests. And if one of them should tap three times on your house window then that too is a premonition of impending death for the human inhabitant. And I think you can guess what legend says would happen to any grievously ill person who should be so unlucky as to have a robin land on their bed post.

In some parts of the country It was believed that the robin was married to the wren, both small birds being ancient symbols of England and both involved with the fire-bringer legend. It's a weird idea but sadly, much as I've tried, I can't find a record of a Robin Ruddock marrying a Jenny Wren in the marriage register. I'm sure that one must exist. That would be great because, if your surname is Ruddock, congratulations! That was an early local name for Britain's favourite bird. It's earliest recorded name was Robin Redbreast, giving it the full title that many people still unknowingly use today. It was only in the mid-sixteenth century that common usage restricted it to the current one word name. People were becoming lazy in their speech even back then.

One place that you're certain to see a robin at this time of year is on a Christmas card. Notice how many pictures of Robins show them with a card in their beak or standing on a post box. This is a historical reference dating back to Victorian times. The fledgeling Penny Post service dressed their postmen in red waistcoats, giving them the nickname 'Robin' due to their artificial red chest. See if your postie answers to it next time you see him. “Hey, Robin! Where are my cards?” It might get his attention...

Please remember that RSPB Old Moor will be closed on Christmas Day and Boxing Day this year but you can still enjoy a brisk winter's walk at all our other reserves around the Dearne Valley. I'm sure you'll see some robins.

Have a great week and, however you spend it, I hope you have a wonderful Christmas.

See my weekly RSPB Old Moor blog at "View From the Shed". I usually wear a big hat.