Every year, around the same time in late winter, a family of American Robins takes a pit stop in Myrtle Glen.
I know, it is called a 'flock' but I can't help it, they remind me of a family, a large family, with 60 to 80 birds.
Every year they stop here, for just a few short morning hours, they pick through the grass and flower beds for grubs and worms, take splashy baths in the puddles from the sprinkler, and sing and chat softly to each other evenly distributed in our 13 Crepe Myrtle Trees.
Then, all of a sudden, quietly and with no haste, they fly off and I won't see them again until next year.
This year I noticed a black bird among them. I wonder if this one is adopted or a hitchhiker?
I see the yearly visit of the Robin Clan as a good sign, spring is coming! The birds must surely know.