Today we had snow. I had really been enjoying the mild weather, but of course it is still early March, and the balmy temperatures can’t last. We have a month of ups and downs ahead of us before we settle into mostly springtime weather (and even then, we still have the possibility of snow right into May). There’s an inch of the white stuff on our lawn now, after it started falling yesterday evening and finally tapered off this morning.
But yesterday, the lawn was bare but for a few randomly-scattered patches of crusty snow. As I was in the kitchen making myself some tea after coming in from our hike with Raven yesterday, I glanced out the window and noticed some movement on the open ground: a robin, scouting for invertebrates groggy and sluggish from the warming sun. And then another, a short distance away. And a third. And finally a fourth, kicking around the detritus on the forest floor.
It’s hard to know for certain if these are migrants, returning with the first signs of spring. Some robins do spend the winter in our frozen north, feeding on icy berries over the cold months, while invertebrates are hard to find. They tend to move about in moderate-sized groups; I noticed a group of about 14 once or twice in our general area over the winter. Others will fly south, some just to the northern states, others might carry on a bit further. Although they’re traditionally thought of as a sign of spring, the bird to watch for, in actuality other migrants such as blackbirds or Killdeer often return before the robins do. I don’t know why robins have come to be associated as a sign of spring – perhaps because by the time they do arrive it’s much more likely that spring is just around the corner? Or perhaps because they are often seen in urban environments, on lawns and in parks, where blackbirds are not.
These were the first ones I’ve seen on our property since the fall. Probably drawn there by the open lawn, since there are no berry bushes on or around our home (if we plan to stay here a while I’ll be sure to plant some, however). Mostly males, with their crisp gray back, jet black head, and rich orange-red belly, although Dan thought he spotted a female amongst the group (which would be more subdued in browner tones). Among migrant robins, males are the first to return in the spring, with females following a week or two later, but both males and females may choose to overwinter in the north. Since these were males, neither possibility can really be ruled out, although it’s still a bit early for migrant females.
I don’t know that the earthworms would be active yet; it was warm, but not that warm, or at least not for long enough to warm the earth up considerably. I noticed most of the robins were checking under the leaves, perhaps for invertebrates that had tucked themselves into crevices in the earth. They would pick the leaves up with their beaks and toss them to one side. They are very proficient at this, able to throw the leaf a good foot or more away. It was slightly overcast by then, and too dark to get a good photo of their leaf-throwing, unfortunately, but you can see to the right of the bird the leaf that he’s just thrown. It was hard to tell just how much they were finding through this effort, but they kept at it.
There was at least one robin who did seem to be hunting for earthworms, or at least wasn’t checking out the leaf litter. Robins on a lawn typically tend to run a number of steps and then pause to cock their head at the ground. While it might look like they’re tipping their ear to listen to what’s going on down there, experiments have shown that robins hunt by sight, not by sound, and the tipping of the head is simply the bird’s way of getting a better view of the ground. Because their eyes are set at the sides of their head, not the front, they don’t have straight-forward vision the way we do, and in order to focus in on a particular object the bird needs to turn its head and look out one eye or the other.
Based on the fresh, crisp wing feathers on this bird, I would guess it to be an adult male (an after-second year in banding terms), meaning that 2009 is at least his third calendar year – he was hatched in 2007 or earlier. Because of the patterns of moult in the different age groups, a second-year bird, hatched last summer, would be showing more wear to its wing feathers, and they would probably also be brownish, slightly faded. In robins the difference can sometimes be quite obvious, particularly as you get closer to summer.
I didn’t notice this till blowing up the photo on the computer, but it looks like when the bird replaced its tail last (which would have been “scheduled” for late last summer, or may have been replaced over the winter if he’d lost some feathers to a close run-in) the waxy sheath that surrounds the feather at its base as it grows wasn’t removed. Most of the time birds will preen these waxy sheaths off, because they start to itch, but it looks like this guy got it halfway off the feather and then forgot about it when it stopped being a problem.
They were gone again today, the robins. There was nowhere for them to forage, the lawn covered up again by the recent snowfall. Off in search of berry bushes, I imagine. But that’s alright, it won’t be too long before they return again – spring is, I’m sure, just around the corner.
6 thoughts on “Robin on the lawn”
We had one lonely robin show up at our feeding station throughout the winter, feasting on the Holly bushes. I look to the return of this ubiquitous bird, as I do all others. Last summer I was kept amused by a nearby robin family. The mother would guide her young one into the protective stand of willows on my property, where she would tirelessy feed him/her all day long, day after day.
Oh no, one more precious myth debunked: the robin is looking, not listening, for the worms?
The second photo in particular, with its close-up of that bright orange bill and the (albeit broken) eyering, suddenly reminded me of the Robin’s thrushy cousins, the European Blackbirds, I saw while in Munich a few years ago.
Love your Robin photos (and facts!). We have Robins year-round here, too. I do see more of them lately so some must migrate as well. But, it seems lately that everytime I hear an appealing bird song and locate the bird, it’s a Robin. I just love them in the early spring.
What is your Robin worm-finding data? I have Heppner (1965) saying visual cues only, but Montgomerie and Weatherhead (1997) finding auditory cues.
Great information on the American Robin Seabrooke! I love the photos too, especially the leaf throwing capture. I really appreciate the information on telling the bird’s age by the feather condition also.
We have been seeing Robins for several weeks here in northern California due to the early warm weather we’ve had.
Kaholly – I think robins are so often overlooked once spring is past because they are a more common species, but they are certainly enjoyable birds to have the opportunity to observe.
Lavenderbay – they do have a lot in common with the European blackbirds, don’t they? Here in the northeast they’re the only species of Turdus thrush, so it’s easy to forget that there are actually many species in that genus.
Liza Lee – Robins have such a nice spring song. So upbeat and cheerful – don’t worry, spring is on the way!
Thanks for the info, Barefootheart! I had thought I’d remembered something about that, but when I did a search on the web I couldn’t see anything indicating they did use sound, so I figured I’d made it up.
Thanks, Larry! Since learning to band birds I’ve been intrigued by clues to the ages of the individuals I see – it doesn’t tell you much, but it does hint at the bird’s story.