Fantastic info and accompanying video footage of a Robin and their chicks.
Anecdote Alert
One morning, while hiking with my dog, I crossed Parkside Drive to enter Toronto's High Park when something in the sky drew my attention. It was a bird, but it wasn't flying; it was falling, and it hit the ground, hard. It was a Robin, choking on a worm.
I scooped it from the road before a car could squish it and I slowly pulled the worm from its throat. I waited while the bird lay motionless on its side. A few seconds passed and it regained consciousness, slightly stunned. It looked at me and I at it and we sat there for a moment, both of us thinking: Well, that was something!
The bird started to hop but seemed reluctant to fly. It took cover in some brush and stood there, looking at me. I picked up the worm and laid it near the bird, waiting to see if it would eat it again, but it didn't. It just stayed there, blinking. I imagined it was experiencing satori.
I rose, and Shakedown and I continued our walk.
That was four years ago, but I think of that bird every day because I pass that same stretch of road daily.
I like birds. I've always liked them. There is a Heron that watches over me called Gilgan that I've seen in six countries in one form or another. One day, I'll have a her tattoo'd on the top of my left hand. Two years ago, I swiped right on a Tinder profile because of a woman named Wren. It was a small movement, but one of the most impactful in my life, for we became great friends. Before meeting her, the word Wren summoned Auguries of Innocence, which I always incorrectly recall as "He who'd harm the little Wren / Can never be a friend of men."
Of course, the poem also mentions the robin:
To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour
A Robin Red breast in a Cage
Puts all Heaven in a Rage
...
My other associations with the bird are Leonard Cohen (I can't keep track of each fallen robin), and this:
Do robins walk or hop?
This is a question from the smash-hit 80s board game Trivial Pursuit. My family played it often and one time this was the winning question for me. I concentrated as best I could, trying to decide. I'd seen plenty of robins, but I have minor aphantasia, meaning I cannot create moving pictures in my mind's eye. Think! How do robins move?
The sand in the timer was running out, so I figured I'd just guess and have a 50/50 chance of winning.
"Hop," I said.
My stepbrother-in-law, who was a monster of a man, was delighted to tell me I'd got it wrong. He showed me the card. The answer was Yes.
