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I already told my Sandhill Crane story, but I also remembered a Robin that used to be a gardening friend.
In a house I owned 30 years ago, I had a huge organic garden behind my garage, and I would spend an hour or two in it most days.
I was turning a bed one day, mixing in compost, and a Robin popped up and started watching me. As I stepped back to take a break, he hopped over to the bed I was turning, and gobbled up a big nightcrawler. My soil was beautiful, and was full of worms, a sure sign of healthy soil.
I got back to work, and he stood off to the side and watched me. Now and then, I'd toss him a worm, and he'd come over and help himself when I took a break. We became friends quickly, and he would show up for a gourmet meal whenever I gardened.
One day he showed up, and started his distinctive chortling warble, and a female popped out from behind the neighbor's fence. She was clearly with my Robin friend, but she was surprised to see me, and got nervous, even let out a startled chirp. He chortled quietly, calming her down. I knew what I had to do, and tossed a worm his way.
Again, she was startled, but he gobbled the worm as she watched, and I tossed another one towards her, and she ate it. Then she calmed down, and let me toss worms to them. He had brought a date to his favorite restaurant, and introduced her to his friend, the head chef.
What a baller move.
I swear the sound of a spade hitting earth is the Robin equivalent of a drop of blood in the ocean for a shark.
I’m glad the little fella found a great restaurant at your place.