A Tale of Two Robins

It seems that nostalgic European settlers have long been prone to naming any bird with a flash of red on the chest “robins” after the beloved little birds they remember from home.

The European, and seemingly original, robin is a small bird — part of the flycatcher family, with a red orange breast and face. The North American robin is an entirely different bird. Part of the thrush family, it’s much bigger, with a yellow beak and striking white markings around the eyes. Really the only point of commonality is that red breast.

Further afield, in Australia you can find the Flame Robin, Scarlet Robin, Red-Capped Robin — none of which are related to either the European or American varieties, except in that little flash of red breast. More homesick settlers, I’m thinking.

I grew up in the UK, so I have tended to think of the British robin as the “real” one.

In reality, the only birds I was actually familiar with as a child growing up on the industrial docks of the Tyne,  were gulls and pigeons. Lots and lots of pigeons!

But robins did loom large in my imagination. Each Christmas my mum decorated the snow-peaked ( and rock hard) royal icing on the Christmas cake with with a small flock of plastic robins, to accompany the rather frightening plaster Santa with mis-matched eyes.

Somehow, I still have a single one of these little robins, although most of his red breast paint has now worn off.

Robins were, and still are, as far as I know, featured on cards and stamps to celebrate the Festive Season in Britain. In the Victorian era, when the sending and receiving of festive greeting cards first became fashionable, the mail carriers wore red tunics and were nicknamed robin redbreasts — bringers of winter cheer, just like the birds.

The British robins stay put all year round, but are less obvious in the summer months — probably being busy with nesting and all, and are more associated with chirpy, charming and colourful company through the winter months.

Whenever I go back to Britain I’m constantly on the lookout for a robin. For some reason, the only place I ever see them close up is at the tea rooms of Portmeirion village in North Wales.

Portmeirion Tea Room robin, 2010

Welsh robin on a picnic table

Portmeirion Tea Room robin, 2019

I like to imagine they’re all there, just waiting for me, one robin generation after another.

British robins are very, very territorial, so that’s just about possible. They are so very fierce about defending their home turf that 10% of mature male birds actually die doing just that.

Welsh robin and stone wall photo collage by June Hunter
Having been in Canada now for most of my life, my Robin Reality has now switched to the North American variety, which has its own charm.

American robin in cherry tree photograph

Seasonally, the robins here are most associated with spring, when they’re the first birds to sing in the morning, and the last to fall quiet at night.

Although we think of them in connection with spring, when their courting song fills the air, they’re actually around all winter here in Vancouver. Perhaps we don’t notice them so much because they behave very differently during the colder months.

American robin camouflaged in gum tree photograph by June Hunter

Spot the robin …

In spring they form pairs and are territorial like their European namesakes, but in winter they live rather cooperatively in large nomadic flocks, sometimes with starlings and other birds, like Cedar Waxwings. They pop up in large groups whenever they find a good source of fruit on trees. Holly, juniper, crabapples and hawthorn are all robin-approved winter fare.

American robin and crabapples photograph by June Hunter

Fun fact: American robins have an extendible esophagus, which allows them to store berries harvested in the daytime for an evening snack to help survive the cold nights.

(I am reminded of the rather terrifying Horlicks TV ads of my youth, where a scientific looking graph traced the worrying arc of “night starvation” — a fate that could only be avoided by imbibing a nice cup of pre-bed Horlicks. I expect night starvation is much more of a reality for a wild robin than for a well fed child of the 1960’s.)

Once spring arrives, the flocks disperse and robins break into pairs, staking out and aggressively defending nesting territory.
When the berries are finished they’ll happily switch to yanking worms out of lawns.

One of my favourite things about the spring and summer robin, apart from the singing, is the gusto with which they take a bath. If the birdbath is suddenly empty, I assume that an enthusiastic robin has just used the facilities.

The folklore around how robins of all types first acquired that fiery red breast is strikingly similar on both sides of the Atlantic. In all versions of the tale,  the brave little robin saves sleeping humans from freezing, using their wings to fan the embers of a dying fire, in spite of the heat and danger. As a reward for their heroism, the robin is awarded the red breast as a badge of honour.

Here’s a beautifully illustrated version of the Sechelt People’s version of the story by Charlie Craigan.

Click fo enlarge

It’s nice to know that however far you travel, they’ll always be some sort of robin to fall in love with.

Echoes of If You Can’t Be with the One You Love, Honey, Love the One You’re With.

Here’s lookin’ at you …



For more posts on the joy of watching robins, and other birds, bathing:




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11 thoughts on “A Tale of Two Robins

  1. Ah you grew up on the Tyne! I’m from Northumberland although I live in Sussex now. I have a very gorgeous Robin who lives in my garden and comes to chat every time I’m out there <3

  2. Thank you for that story about the robin. I too was born in England and remember everything was bigger in Canada, the robin, the daisies. It’s true too that I usually see them in the winter in my yard and not other times of year. My father, long gone now, told me stories that as a boy he used to collect birds eggs. It was quite the thing to do then. Are robin’s eggs blue? Or have I misremembered this?

  3. Hi June, I can relate to your love of seeing robins bathing. A few years ago we had a robin doing just that, in the half barrel pond on our patio. I was surprised to see a robin bathing daily in the pond, since I don’t think they can float. I soon realized the robin was balancing on the water hose that fed into the froggie spout, splashing like crazy. The funniest part of the whole activity was the robin’s approach to the barrel: she (I am sure it was a mom nesting nearby) would run across the patio toward the pond. She never flew in. She always ran across the patio. Hilarious to see and I so enjoyed the visits. This year we have 3 crows in our patio, always looking for interesting things (but not bathing). I think of you every time I see a crow. Hugs!

  4. Hi June,
    We always learn something from your posts. This will stick with me. I’ll look for the little robins next time I’m in Europe.
    The pictures are gorgeous

  5. Currently my most fav space in my garden is the bird bath, which is in-line from my fav spot on the couch when reading a book. Have you done a blog video on birds bathing? Even in the rain, birds bathe. What a lovely way to start my day, with this blog.

  6. Such a lovely essay! People have asked me over the years, ‘whats this thing the English have about robins on Christmas cards?’ Now I will direct them to your story. Really had a hard, fun time spotting that clever robin. Thanks June!

  7. I didn’t realize that our Robins are part of the Thrush family. I do see the resemblance now. The English Robin is so adorable and so small. Always something to learn from your blogs, June ! I have set up a bird bath , on my back porch railing, it is a large ceramic saucer, 2″ deep. I put a couple of sloping rocks for little birds. The hummingbirds like it. The large bird bath in the front yard has been claimed by the local crows, Boris and Esmerelda ! No other birds would like the mess they leave !!

  8. Thank you for this wonderful post and great pictures! It’s so interesting to be able to put the correct picture with the word “robin” which I sometimes encounter in mysteries/novels by English writers. Sometimes there will be a description, which doesn’t quite gibe with our American robins. Now I know!

  9. I’ve always loved robins; their red breasts, their many sorts of calls, how they move across the lawn in search of worms. Their movements have always reminded me of a game we played as children- “go go go stop”. Stooping low to the ground and scuttling along, they then stop suddenly and stand upright, then they bend over again, and appear to be listening, with the ear close to the ground. Whether they listen or watch or both, I’ve never figured out. Perhaps some scientist knows, though how they could be sure I don’t know. Then suddenly the robin grabs the worm. Always fascinating to watch. Though I was brought up in BC, I was born in England. In many ways I consider it to be home, though I would never live there, as I would have to take all the Canadian birds with me! On one of my trips back to England, I went horseback riding with my Auntie. Suddenly, I was enchanted to see, in a little patch of sunlight, like it had been waiting for me, an English robin. A happy memory that I will always treasure.

  10. Hi June , liked the note on robins. I have put stain glass pieces of robins on slate stone. they resemble the UK robin. Enjoy your site. M

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