The robins are leaving

Hi everyone,

Lately our back yard has been a way station for migrating robins. Bands of them, maybe thirty or more, suddenly appear, flit among the thinning limbs of the hackberry trees, drop down to the swimming pool to take drinks of the brackish water on top of the cover. They help themselves to a hackberry or two and make messes on the deck furniture. One or two may crash into windows. In that sad way, some journeys end here at Goose Lake. After a few minutes of general chaos, the birds leave as they came. I don’t know where they’re headed. Texas maybe. Florida.

The robins aren’t looking for a warmer climate. Cold weather doesn’t bother them. They’re looking for a food supply. Around here they eat worms all spring and summer, but when temperatures start dropping, worms aren’t easy to find and when hard frosts chase the worms out of sight, robins have a decision to make.

Not all robins leave. As long as they can find enough to eat, they’ll stick out the winter. But many others fly south and change their menu. Mostly they eat fruit in warmer areas. For them it’s worms all summer, berries all winter. I suppose if I ate worms for months, I’d want a palate freshener too. I wrote about one such band of travelers (starlings in that case) in The Purchase of Small Secrets (Wordsong, Boyds Mills Press, 1998).

Bright-Eyed Good-byes

Birds
busily
tidying up
the season

Shouting
bright-eyed
good-byes

Joining
choosing sides
forming teams

Arguing
plans

Debating
from treetops

Everyone
talking
at once

Swirling
down
to the lawns
like black leaves

Pecking
for snacks

Gusting
skyward

Diving
wheeling
practicing

Days 
of false
starts

Where
is the leader?

Who
is in charge?

When
was the signal?

I
missed the vote
same as always

They’re gone!

(c) 1997 David L. Harrison, all rights reserved