Last year around this time, I became aware of the presence of a sweet little robin, a European robin. They are much smaller than their American counterparts. He would fly to the bird feeder while I was filling the holders with seeds, and just sit there, watching me. Sometimes he was an arms-length away from me. He was curious about me and unafraid. If I moved to another part of the garden, he would fly to where I was and watch me intently. It seemed as though he and I were to be good friends. But then my life took another turn.
My last visit to the cold winter garden was in mid-February, after which I battled influenza and then had surgery for a faulty cardiac mitral valve. I didn’t return to the garden until late May, by which time the birds were finding their own food, so feeding them was no longer necessary. Still, I kept feeding them. My little robin friend did not show during the summer or autumn months. But I kept hoping he would.
One day last week, he suddenly reappeared, and it was as if he had never left. He perched at the feeder, patiently waiting for me to finish filling it. When I sat on the bench in front of the greenhouse, he flew over to be close to me, strolling across the frost-tipped grass near my feet. Then he hopped onto the bench and let me take a few photos of him. Here's a photo of him posing. He's a cutie.
