Robin, the murdering hoodlum
Sir — That’s it! I’ve had enough of the tweets and spin from the members of the robin fan club. I could just about keep my beak shut after reading Joe Kennedy’s ‘Fearless robin a caring bird of courage’ (Country Matters, Sunday Independent, January 21) but when Damien Boyd’s ‘Tales of the mighty robin’ (Letter of the Week, Sunday Independent, January 28) joined in the dawn chorus, I had to take up my quill in order to prevent this growing media frenzy from taking flight. It seems as though they both have been enchanted by the twitter feed from the robin family and its groupies.
Allow me for a few moments to peck a little hole in their media bubble with a recent 21st-century, not so “heartwarming tale” of what Joe refers to euphemistically as the robin “securing extended territory” and Damien describes as “their pluckiness and bossiness”.
Just as the Christmas cards were flying in the front door, with symbols of peace and joy on them such as the robin redbreast, a ‘mighty’ robin was committing a murder most foul in my back garden.
Yes, this “courageous little bird” was engaged in a display of public violence that would leave the worst excesses of mixed martial arts in the shade. This “calm and charming bird” was pecking another robin while he was well and truly down. This was obviously at least round 10 of a territorial battle and it was clear to me that the victim had long since thrown in the towel.
Like Joe Kennedy, I “uttered a few words” from my window, but such was the rage of the victor that he continued to inflict even more punishment on his unfortunate victim. I plucked up the courage to step on to the grass canvas and end this unseasonal and unreasonable violence. Flushed with the joy of victory, Mr Cock Robin grudgingly took a few steps back to the corner of his garden while I lifted the battered and bruised panting body of his almost lifeless victim.
His little red breast was pumping, one eye was not visible and may even have been lying on the grass while the other eye was barely open and once again, like Joe Kennedy, I “uttered a few words of greeting” but unlike Joe I didn’t sense that “some response was possible”. Fearing the worst, I propped the heaving mass of feathers in the early morning sunlight. I went indoors for seeds in the vain hope my now almost lifeless friend could be nourished back to health.
When I returned, to my amazement, Mr Cock Robin was standing over his victim and casting a long shadow over my patient who at this stage was gradually losing the will to live. The victor did a lap of honour before taking flight. Some time later, I’m sure I saw him engaging in a victory march with a female admirer around the scene of the crime while his victim lay lifeless in the corner.
I can only hope that those who read this will remember, as I do, that battered and bruised little body that will sing no more and that they are not fooled by Joe and Damien into believing that the robin is some kind of modern-day Robin Hood “feared by the bad and loved by the good”. While I agree with the spirit of Joe Kennedy’s quotation from William Blake that “a robin redbreast in a cage/puts all heaven in a rage”, I know of at least one robin who should spend some time behind bars because he has blood on his little red breast. Eddie Morrissey, Tipperary