Redbreast: The Robin in Life and Literature

Abstract

Even the most cursory glance at the Christmas cards around my house as I write this serves to reinforce the theme of Andrew Lack's charming book: the central place of the robin in British culture, history, literature and tradition. [...]if the book itself is aptly described as the author's own labour of love - a tributary update to the original work of his father, David, first published in 1950 - then the overwhelming sense that it projects, is the quite astonishing relationship between this diminutive member of the thrush family and the British people. Individual chapters cover such as aspects as the robin's song; the robin and Christmas; and Children; in Myth and Folklore,- and home-life, and there are separate chapters on the most enduring of robin legends - 'The Saga of Cock Robin' and its central role in 'Babes in the Wood', where the robin covers the bodies with moss, thus cementing its strong association down the years with death. There is more about Waterton's visit to Rome in David Lack's book, none of it about the robin, but, as an example of the editorial nature of the reworking of the original, his son has put the rest of the story as a footnote, rather than in the body of text.) That said, Lack rather passes over the evidence for our own darker relationship with the robin, noting only that the fashion for ladies to wear 'these little birds stuffed, on their hats and gowns' did not last, 'as the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds, founded in 1889 has no record of it'. Sweet little bird in russet coat The livery of the closing year I love thy lonely plaintive note And tiny whispering song to hear While on the stile or garden seat I sit to watch the falling leaves Thy songs thy little joys repeat My loneliness relieves The sense of well-being engendered by the song of the robin during Clare's life may also translate across the years as one of the few constants in Helpston's natural history.

Redbreast: The Robin in Life and Literature. By ANDREW LACK. Arundel, West Sussex: SMH Books. 2008. x + 294 pp. £19.95.

Even the most cursory glance at the Christmas cards around my house as I write this serves to reinforce the theme of Andrew Lack's charming book: the central place of the robin in British culture, history, literature and tradition. No other Christmas motif seems as popular this year - not even the Holy Family.

And if the book itself is aptly described as the author's own labour of love - a tributary update to the original work of his father, David, first published in 1950 - then the overwhelming sense that it projects, is the quite astonishing relationship between this diminutive member of the thrush family and the British people. The wealth of evidence presented makes it no surprise at all that the robin was voted our national bird in 1960. It features in almost every aspect of our lives and many key moments of our history. It is there in rural folklore/ features in chapter and verse throughout literature and fittingly even plays its part in the great struggles for national identity -nesting both in a hole in the mast of HMS Victory (albeit after it has been removed from the ship following the Battle of Trafalgar) and calmly in the engine of a Spitfire during World War Two.

Andrew Lack's book is a very fitting celebration of the robin. It is well researched, truly comprehensive and beautifully produced. Individual chapters cover such as aspects as the robin's song; the robin and Christmas; and Children; in Myth and Folklore,- and home-life, and there are separate chapters on the most enduring of robin legends - 'The Saga of Cock Robin' and its central role in 'Babes in the Wood', where the robin covers the bodies with moss, thus cementing its strong association down the years with death. It is, however, very much an update of David Lack's original, so this is not quite a new book in itself, with many pages of the original untouched - though more modern poems have been added.

What makes our relationship with the robin so special is that it is unique to Great Britain. Unlike other national figures, such as St George for instance (probably born in Palestine and also patron saint of Ethiopia, Greece, Lithuania, Portugal and Georgia), we don't share our relationship with the robin with any other countries. Not only is there no other nation that celebrates the robin in this way, there are no other robins that have such a strong relationship with people! In mainland Europe the robin is a more secretive, woodland bird. It has also, by tradition, been mercilessly hunted and eaten across large parts of the continent.

Indeed, Andrew Lack's brief survey of the robin in continental literature reveals the main focus to be on their taste and how to trap them. One of the illustrations reflects the contrast between continental and British attitudes to the robin perfectly - a Christmas card produced in Germany for the British market which depicts the robin sitting on top of a bird trap. Similarly Charles Waterton is quoted during his visit to Rome in the early nineteenth century, writing: 'At the bird market near the rotunda in Rome, I have counted more than fifty robin redbreasts lying dead in one stall. "Is it possible", said I to the vendor, "that you can kill and eat these pretty songsters?" "Yes," said he, with a grin; "and if you will take a dozen of them home, for dinner today, you will come back for two dozen tomorrow."' (These two stories are in both the original and Andrew Lack's version of the book. There is more about Waterton's visit to Rome in David Lack's book, none of it about the robin, but, as an example of the editorial nature of the reworking of the original, his son has put the rest of the story as a footnote, rather than in the body of text.)

That said, Lack rather passes over the evidence for our own darker relationship with the robin, noting only that the fashion for ladies to wear 'these little birds stuffed, on their hats and gowns' did not last, 'as the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds, founded in 1889 has no record of it'. Simon Holloway, in his Historic Atlas of Breeding Birds in Britain and Ireland 1875-1900 (1996), is less charitable to our forebears, recording that: 'The Robin was esteemed for the table and some local decreases in numbers occurred as a result. The newspapers of the early 1890s that announced firstly, "wings will be all the rage" and then that whole birds would be worn on the head drove the fashion trade of the time to organise the slaughter of many small British birds. [...] The Robin was particularly popular as a millinery adornment/ Richard Mabey in Birds Britannica (2005), on the other hand, records that the capture of a robin was viewed with much regret by the rural communities of Norfolk when they turned to birds as a source of food in the very cold winter of 1947.

Nevertheless, it is clear from Lack's research that the robin has occupied a special place in our society since records began and that acts of cruelty towards it have been frowned on for generations. Lack cites the old adage: 'The blood on the breast of a robin that's sought / Brings death to the snarer by whom it is caught'.

This gives rise to an intriguing chicken and egg question: is it man or robin that makes the relationship work in Britain? Did our (general) antipathy to eating small birds encourage the robin to make its nest at our door, or was it its gentle, confiding nature that turned us from that path? Andrew Lack is unambiguous about this: 'The Robin's place around the homestead, and in English literature, is due to the combination of mild winters and kindness towards birds.' This is not the only possible view, however. Our robin is after all a distinct sub-species from its continental cousins and the question is made more confused still by the substantial migration into Britain every winter of continental birds. Without further research it is entirely possible that some at least of the birds that frequent our gardens every winter are there not because of centuries of inbuilt trust between man and bird, but because the gardens provide an easy food source after a long journey from Europe.

I mentioned at the beginning of this review just how central the robin is to our modern view of Christmas, perhaps reflecting the decline in religious belief; it is seen as a neutral and yet traditional emblem for cards and decorations. David Lack, in the original book, traced the connection with Christmas back to the 186Os and suggested that the association comes from the red coat of the uniform used by Victorian postmen. Andrew Lack doesn't dispute this, although more recently Richard Mabey has suggested that the robin was incorporated into Yuletide images from a much earlier date. Whatever its origin the fact remains once again that only in Britain does the robin feature as a Christmas emblem.

Given its centrality across our history and literature, it is no surprise that John Clare, our greatest poetic observer of the natural world, should be the source of so many of the quotations in this book. Clare not only wrote about robins, he also struck up a relationship with one 'that usd to come in at a broken pane in the window three winters together', recognising the individual by the scars on its wings and feeding it by hand as it came in to his cottage (Natural History, p. 52).

Clare wrote about robins with great affection and considerable knowledge. The first is no surprise, there are few writers and observers who don't describe robins with affection - although as Lack notes, Gilbert White, the great naturalist of Selborne, was not a fan, writing that: 'The Redbreast's note is very sweet and pleasing, did it not carry with it ugly associations of ideas, and put us in mind of the approach of winter'. But it is particularly interesting to see Clare's poems about or featuring robins grouped together around key themes. One in particular is of relevance as it reveals Clare's faith in the healing power of nature - something that is ever more topical today as the powers-thatbe and scientists start to rediscover that the joy of nature as described by Clare can be seriously good for your health:

Sweet little bird in russet coat

The livery of the closing year

I love thy lonely plaintive note

And tiny whispering song to hear

While on the stile or garden seat

I sit to watch the falling leaves

Thy songs thy little joys repeat

My loneliness relieves

The sense of well-being engendered by the song of the robin during Clare's life may also translate across the years as one of the few constants in Helpston's natural history. If Clare were to return to Helpston today, he would find much change and much loss. He would see the black and white flickering of the lapwings against a winter sky and wonder why there were so few. He would walk in Royce Wood and ask where the old oaks had gone. He would stop to listen in the summer's evening and be puzzled by the absence of nightingale song. He would search in vain for the corncrake and quail in the fields around the village.

But he could not fail to notice the robin, still in his garden and still as confiding as ever, and perhaps he would take comfort in its continued presence and unchanged nature. Just before I sat down to write this review, I walked through Swaddywell and turned to fill up the bird feeders by the hedge there. As I did, only one bird flew down to meet me and to watch as I worked. And only one bird fed quietly within three feet as I filled up the containers. In a period of intense environmental pressure and change, the robin retains its sense of place by our side. And this is backed up by the scientific evidence. Andy Brown and Phil Grice in Birds in England (2005] note that there is no evidence that the distribution of the robin has changed at all and if anything, unlike so many of the farmland birds that Clare knew and celebrated in prose and verse, such as the yellowhammer and corn bunting, its population has actually increased since the 1960s.

Andrew Lack's book is certainly comprehensive. And herein lies the only criticism that can be levelled at it iapart from one or two strange editorial lapses - a couple of spelling mistakes and a wrongly placed reference, but such errors seem to be par for the course in all publications these days). It seems at times to want to be a compendium of all things robin and like a student anxious to prove a point, the author is never content with one piece of supporting evidence, but insists on several. At times these references seem strained, as if there is a desire to make this a complete works of robin-ness. Poems are quoted at length even when there is only a passing reference to the eponymous bird. This makes for heavy reading. There is only so much robin you can take at any one time and as a result, the book is best viewed as something of a work of reference - and a good one at that - not an easy, enjoyable read, which is a shame as the subject matter itself is so captivating.

Richard Asile