Two Robins
Almost every day, during the autumn, it was a common thing to hear the scream of rabbit pursued by stoat. One morning there was a new voice of distress. It became a double voice. I looked up to see two robins indulging in what seemed to be an extra vigorous display of mating affection at the wrong time of the year. They appeared suddenly to be yanked across the garden as though tied to the same invisible piece of string. They were yanked back. They tore up into a tree, chattering madly, and down again ; disappeared into a tangle of a rock rose, beat themselves out again with frenzy, fought like cocks in mid-air, collapsed on the ground together, and were silent. I walked over to investigate. They sprang up like two boxers ashamed of having taken a breather, had a second furious bout in mid-air, disappeared among the michaelmas daisies, scuffled frantically, and were silent again. When I found them they were bloody, glass-eyed and completely knocked out. As I picked up one the other dragged himself off, squeaked a little, walked lame- legged, flopped in complete misery and hid himself away. I held the other in my hand, quietened him. I was surprised to see the red of his breast come off, like rust, on my hands. Suddenly, after deluding me for five minutes into thinking that his neck was broken, he flew off and up into the willow tree. His sparring partner followed. Two minutes later they were singing to each other madly.
Previous page
