If I had to pick my favorite songbirds from the many different feathered friends who frequent my bird feeders outside, I would choose robins. Other visitors often include finches, house wrens, cardinals and small sparrows. The other birds are a close second, but I love the red-breasted robins.

Robins are a sure sign of spring. Each fall the robins migrate to warmer climates, so when I see the first few robins reappear in late February or early March I know that spring is not far behind. This past winter seemed both long and dreary. Repeated rounds of ice and sleet made travel difficult and kept my family homebound more than usual. When I saw that first little robin in my front yard, my heart soared with joy. Soon after that first sighting, robins were once again a common sight in the neighborhood. Within days, the first tender buds began to burst out on the tree branches, and my crocuses bloomed. I have watched the graceful, age-old mating ritual as the robins fly together up and down in an intricate way that seems like a dance. Although we still are experiencing a few cool days and cold nights, spring is beginning to spring, brought back with my little friends, the robins.

In past years, I have been privileged to watch robins build their sturdy nests and have peeped more than once at the blue robins’ eggs that lend their name to that particular shade of blue. Watching a pair of robins rear their nestlings is a heartwarming sight, too, and folklore says that happiness is sure to be found wherever robins build their nests.

My friends, the robins, are back, and so I am content to watch my feathered friends, the red-breasted robins, at work and play.