A flame robin turned up on the back fence on Sunday — a sign of the coming winter. It settled in to watch The Boss splitting wood.
Funny how a little bird from the high country zeroes right in on the spot where some loose ant larvae might be spilling out, as soon as it arrives. But maybe it was here last year.
It will likely be joined by quite a few others — some years we get six or eight lining up on the fence and they are the only kind of robins inclined to flock during winter. On a foggy morning they look like oranges in a fish shop window.
People often call them robin red-breasts but that name also applies to their cousins, the scarlet robin and the red-capped robin, which also have a red breast. All of them spend much of their time in the high country and the flame robin is the one that migrates to lowland pastures and stream-sides in the cooler weather.
The Boss says the biologists think the flame robin relies on flying insects more than its cousins — and there are fewer of those active in winter in the hills. Whatever the reasons for their regular migration, they liven things up along the river at a time when the other colourful migrants, such as bee-eaters, dollar birds and kingfishers, have all headed north to warmer weather.
Apart from ants and ant larvae, they go after flies, wasps, bees, beetles, caterpillars, millipedes, earthworms and spiders. Taking their cues from the kookaburra and the butcher bird, they will beat their larger prey against a hard surface to break it up before swallowing it.
They’ve also been seen foraging in the furrows of ploughed paddocks and tapping their feet on the soft earth in an effort to encourage insects to emerge — a habit usually associated with wading birds in swamps and along the coasts.
They usually nest around us on the river before they leave, building a neat cup of soft grass, moss and twigs, bound up with spider webs and feathers. The flame robin is a more successful breeder than the scarlet or red-capped robin and usually lays three or four eggs, often having two clutches in a season.
Unfortunately, their tidy nests have a special appeal to the lazy and scheming pallid cuckoo, a notorious brood parasite, which will add its eggs to the robin’s own eggs and leave the robins to hatch them. The pallid cuckoo considers the flame robin the avian version of a surrogate mother, as does its relative, the fan-tailed cuckoo.
A young fan-tailed cuckoo, having hatched in a flame robin’s nest, was once seen ejecting its step-brothers and -sisters from the nest so it could be raised by its foster parents in splendid comfort.
Flame robins have an attractive song, with loud and soft versions. The louder, high-pitched musical trill can be heard from 150 metres away and has three sets of three notes, sometimes described as “you may come, if you wish, to the sea”.
It’s altogether a fine little bird and a welcome winter visitor. Woof!