Our Environment: "The American Robin Arrives" by Scott Turner

Our Environment: "The American Robin Arrives" by Scott Turner

Next to the concrete foundation on the sunny side of our home, the flowers of three stunted, protected-from-bitter-wind goldenrod plants remain in bloom. The tight flower clusters look almost fluorescent golden-yellow in color.

Adding further brilliance to the garden is a recent influx of American Robins. The stout, red-breasted songbirds showed up in the second week of November to feed on crabapple, hawthorn and other fruits sweetened by overnight frosts.

Most of us consider the robin a sign of springtime. But its most-striking appearance in the Ocean State may take place after the first frosts of fall, when thousands of birds arrive to chow down.

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These birds not only eat tree and shrub fruit, they also sing and call on and off all day. Besides their familiar song, the robins utter “tuk” to communicate, “yeep,” as an alarm, a repeated “chirr” and an unmistakable “tsip” flight call.

When temperatures fall drastically, birds must eat, or die. On our block last week, a Northern Mockingbird took up residence in a crabapple tree. Like American Robins, mockingbirds switch diets from insects to fruit each fall. A mockingbird that finds a fruit-laden tree or shrub typically turns territorial, emitting a stark “chew,” or a series of abrasive “chat” sounds, when other birds show up.

No surprise that the mocker on our block produced harsh calls against a flock of robins that visited the crabapples. The mockingbird also fluttered and flew around the robins, seemingly rebuking them. But the robins did not leave. The mockingbird did.

Fortuitously, all the mockingbird had to do was float across the street, where it found juniper trees, bayberry shrubs and multiflora rose, all laden with berries. There was fruit for all, at least until the crop of little apples and berries diminish.

The start of November felt like late summer, which then met early winter. One day it was warm. The next day was wicked chilly. Next it thawed a bit before a bigger freeze slapped us.

During this weather flop-flop, I listened to the local crickets rise in song, before going silent over 2-3 nights. Then a few survivors trilled and chirped during the relatively warm day and evening of Nov. 11, but Arctic cold shut them down, and probably killed them.

There is something sad about this time of year. Many birds fly away, the beautiful foliage falls, snakes slither under stones, insects mostly vanish and turtles burrow into the mud. Day by day, the richness of life disappears.

Add the low light, persistent cold, and lack of color, and late fall can feel like a minimum-security-prison.

How lucky then, that with a bit of goldenrod beaming by the house, and a flood of robins into the hood, there is still some shine to the late-fall setting.

 

Scott Turner is a Providence-based writer and communications professional. For more than a decade he wrote for the Providence Journal and we welcome him to GoLocalProv.com.