Barbara J. Hamby

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Robin Fat Breast

Today a robin about the size and shape of a baseball sat high in the tree outside my window. (S)he seemed to be shivering and staring at me.

As I watched and mused, I speculated that, as far as I know, robins should have gone South by now. Maybe this one was old and/or sick and missed the flight. But, if so, there’s nothing a mere human can do about it.

When I lived in Vancouver, a fat robin sat for hours on the deck railing outside my office window. Since I’ve been here, a fat robin appears from time to time. This one is so round it looks like a ball with a beak and wings. Its feet are invisible.

If I’m going to be stalked by robins, I guess I should get on the web and read up on their habits and habitat. A quick check of information on the internet furnished the robin’s song and its call. Wow! I’m impressed.

A robin, or any bird, seems an unlikely totem for a person of my size. However, I can relate to the big belly, especially this time of year.