It’s late October and I’m bent over, kneeling on my green gardening pad to try and take the pressure off my knees. Bending is a problem because I’m all wrapped up with several thick layers, including my wax jacket and the waterproof trousers I used to wear for biking in wet weather. I’m here to help dig a test pit in the Orchard, after all those Sunday afternoons watching ‘Time Team’ in the 1990s, I am finally doing it myself. It’s hard work, this wet clay is really heavy. But it is rather addictive, as you move down carefully taking off the earth inch by inch and thinking that the next layer might be the one where you find something really exciting. We’ve already got a large spoil heap and on top perches the little robin who has adopted our pit. He came to see us both days and sang for his supper, thanking us for all the worms.
Robins seem to have a special affinity with man, is that why they have become associated with our biggest annual celebration? They began appearing on Christmas cards when these first became popular in Victorian times, and are still there today. The early postmen wore bright red jackets and were known as ‘robins’ or ‘redbreasts’. Early cards showed the bright red post-boxes along with a robin holding a card in its beak. Nowadays robins can be seen on all the supermarket shelves on packaging for a whole range of items, as well as on Christmas tree decorations. Even if the practice of sending cards continues to dwindle, there will always be the robin worn on a Christmas jumper or decorating the wrapping paper used for Christmas presents.
The robin is also found in earlier folk tales associated with Christianity and the birth of Jesus. There was said to be a robin in the manger who flapped his wings to fan the fire which was in danger of going out. The flame revived, mother and baby were kept warm, but the little brown bird scorched his breast. There is a different version which takes place later, when Jesus was on the cross. A robin pulled out a thorn from his crown and sang to him to try and ease his suffering. In this version a drop of blood fell onto the robin’s breast and coloured it.
We seem to have at least two resident robins in the Orchard which is surprising as they are usually very territorial birds. It is interesting that they are always referred to as the ‘red robin’ because when you really look, their breast is orange. This tells us that the bird was named before the English language had a word for orange – rather like the ‘scarlet pimpernel’ flower which looks perfectly orange to my eyes. The robin has been our national bird since 1960, and is a favourite of the public, especially gardeners and those who like to feed their wild visitors.
I straighten up to stretch my back, I can see the holly tree already decorated with many scarlet berries shining through the drizzle. Perhaps they foretell a hard winter to come? Read more...
