It’s still winter and no matter what Phil, the Pennsylvania Weather Rodent might say, it’s going to keep being winter for a long time. That’s why it’s disturbing to see flocks of robins in the February snow, obviously freezing cold, pretending that it’s spring. Who do they think they’re fooling? Don’t they know the (very) early bird gets the frozen worm?
Robins are supposed to be the first sign of spring—not a sign of the Apocalypse. Is this more proof that the world is turning inside-out? But while some robins head south for winter, others tough it out wherever they are, snow and all—like Iowans. Every fall, I hear my friends say that Iowa winters aren’t that bad. It’s not that cold. Winter is over quickly. Then, around the end of February, they are cursing themselves for not booking that time share in Miami.
But there is a reason Iowa robins aren’t falling out of trees like those frozen Florida iguanas. Despite their reputation as fair-weather fowls, robins maintain an internal temperature of around 100 degrees Fahrenheit, thanks to their fat, feathers and favorably high metabolism. When you see a robin in the winter, it looks so plump and well fed when in reality, it is only fluffing up its feathers, trying to keep from freezing solid.
Curiously, winter robins, (which are mostly males) tend to be very social, hanging out in flocks. This is a bit deceptive, if not outright treacherous. In the winter, it’s all like, “Let’s share the berries and watch each other’s backs.” And, “Bros forever!” But as soon as it warms up a little and the robin girls start to arrive, it’s war!
Male robins are mean. Just watch them in the spring as they stake out their territory on your lawn. Two competing robins will be hopping around a few yards apart as if oblivious of each other’s presence, pretending to look for worms. Then, after three or four leisurely hops, they fly into a murderous rage, attacking each other with astonishing ferocity. This last only for a couple of seconds, then, hop, hop, hop—kill! Kill! Kill! Over and over again—all day long.
Then, of course, there’s that thing robins do when they attack windows, imagining their own reflection to be a rival male with designs on their girlfriend. It reminds me of that scene in the movie Taxi Driver when murderer-in-training, Travis Bickle, played by Robert DeNiro is working up his inner rage, practicing his quick-draw in front of a full-length mirror. “You talking to me?” he asks, creepily addressing his reflection. “You talkin’ to me? Who the hell else are you talking to? You talkin’ to me?”
The American Bird Conservancy estimates that over a billion birds a year die, hurtling themselves again windows, imagining they are defending their breeding ground. Cats get a lot of birds, too, despite the fact that cats can’t fly. Of course, cats have the advantage when the robin is lying on the ground, wondering how his opponent could hit so hard.
Another thing about robins that’s a little strange: every spring, they tweet, tweet, tweet, all day. But they don’t make a sound all winter. I guess it makes sense. Have you ever tried to whistle when it’s ten below zero?