One of my annual garden companions. First met the American robin when I started veggie farming. I thought it was a sign. The bird was quite near me, darting a ways, then stopping, seeming to follow me, not looking worried when I turned towards it. Other than urban pigeons and scavenging seagulls, I wasn’t used to birds being so on grounded. It soon seemed clear that it was following me, probably resonating with my kindred earthy spirit, recognizing a fellow field worker, accepting me into the tribe. Turns out that spending a lot of time on the ground, running around looking for bugs and earthworms, especially in open, freshly tilled fields, is just what the American robin does. I was only a part of its landscape. Oh well.
These guys are here every year, keeping company in the field. Later in the season, I sometimes see the chicks zooming around, cuter than kittens. I read that American robins are known to gorge on berries that have fermented, get drunk, and topple over as they dart around. Hope they don’t drink and fly (but they apparently do)!
