It’s during the late autumn and winter months when there is less vegetation cover, that one of our commonest and most iconic bird becomes most easily visible to us, its iconic bright red chest brings colour to winter days. Unlike many other birds both sexes sing away and have their own territories from late summer and through the winter until the early spring when they begin to pair up. Their autumnal song differs from the springtime notes, and the British subspecies is named melophilus, meaning song-loving. As soon as the nest building begins and plant growth provides more secrecy to their lives, they seem to almost vanish but they are devoting their energies into the demands of bringing up a brood or two
This wet winter has meant that outdoor spins with Yazoo have been largely restricted to tarmac routes nearer to home, rather than venturing further afield with my hybrid cycle on muddy paths, where I might end-up stuck with nobody around to help push me out, as I have learned through past experience! Since the number of accessible routes is restricted we have settled into a pretty regular route at much the same time every morning.
The overall number of birds seems to be distinctly less than in previous years, and, in addition quite a number of species I would expect to see, I have barely seen at all. This does not appear to be the case with the local robin population which is doing very nicely. I have become familiar with a number of different pairs and the regularly used bushes and trees, as well as the cock robin’s singing perches. It is often his song which alerts me to his presence, and if I then stop to trace the source of the sound he becomes visible, and with a bit more patience, his mate will make an appearance.
There has been one pair in particular seemingly friendlier than all the others on our customary morning route. When I am sitting still in the chair with the bike attachment, they appear quite happy to root around in the scrub or the grass just a few feet from me. They only seem a bit flighty if I move too suddenly or when Yazoo gets too close. I have named them Roderick and Rebecca, which may seem anthropomorphic but it is one of the few birds in the English language ascribed a human name. Originally it was known as Ruddock or Redbreast but over the years this became personalised to Robin, which is the diminutive of Robert.
Since they have chosen to interact with me on such a personal level and I believe have come to recognise me and can distinguish me from other passers-by, it seems only right they be distinguished from the other robins, and giving them numbers just does not seem right. I have become increasingly aware that they do not all behave in identical ways with identical habits, that they have their own individual characteristics and habits, you just need the time and patience to notice.
It was less than a fortnight ago, during the colder weather spell that I started to feed them with mealworms on a daily basis. In just a short space of time they have become so friendly that they make themselves known as soon as we enter their patch. Two days ago Roderick took a short while before plucking up the courage to take a mealworm from the small container that I had offered in an outstretched hand. Up until now Rebecca waits until the food is on the ground and she will readily scold her partner out of the way.
The following morning I had only just stopped along the path where they would normally pop up, when Roderick flew straight towards me and landed on the bike battery as if demanding an immediate meal as if I am some kind of avian Deliveroo service. I wonder why these two are so much more trusting of my presence than all the other pairs. The path has a steady trickle of people passing but probably not greatly different to several of the other spots where I know other robins to be. I am feeding some of these as well but none will come anywhere near as close. They will pop down to grab a mealworm minutes after I have moved some distance away but they are much more ill at ease.
Whatever the case, the fact that they can recognise me and probably remain unseen by most of the people passing them by and interact on a much closer and more intimate level which demonstrates trust and a level of intelligence. Did they condition me or have we simply arrived at some kind of reciprocal arrangement. I get a close up encounter which enriches my day and they get some juicy mealworms. I reckon its a bloody good deal.