Dear Robin,
"I saw it and I thought you'd like it"
Before me, a tangled mess of feathers, a hint of faded orange revealing its life as a Robin ... Coch Rhi Ben ... Red Leader ... the American kind. I think of the comparison between you and your European namesake, the only similarity being that flashy red breast. I wonder at the blindness of those that named you, at such a loss for familiarity, that just a patch of rouged feathers in winter was enough to see similarity where I can only see difference. You are bigger, you are bolder, and (dare I say?) a little less lovable to my eyes.
"I saw it and I thought you'd like it"
Before me, a tangled mess of feathers, a hint of faded orange revealing its life as a Robin ... Coch Rhi Ben ... Red Leader ... the American kind. I think of the comparison between you and your European namesake, the only similarity being that flashy red breast. I wonder at the blindness of those that named you, at such a loss for familiarity, that just a patch of rouged feathers in winter was enough to see similarity where I can only see difference. You are bigger, you are bolder, and (dare I say?) a little less lovable to my eyes.
These are the words of my nostalgic, immigrant heart. But what of those who have only ever known this version of the common creature with a rusty flush? Can they see you more clearly? Love you more?
