Modesty matters before birds go courting

THE birds are back, and the sudden thrill of a robin from a branch can startle one in the, hitherto, silent back garden. The robins are putting their hearts into it, singing for territory, impressing on other cock robins that they are kings of the jungle — for jungle, it, indeed is — telling old rivals and young upstarts that their valour will match their voice should there be any contention. Theirs is the dominant song — and females should also take note.
For months, while the moult was on, they were there, the birds, but so invisible that one might think they were gone forever from our small patch of West Cork. Actually, they were being modest for good reason. Firstly, with feathers falling, and out of condition, they were in no great shape to dodge or outfly the local sparrowhawk, should she spot them; secondly, if one were to ascribe human concerns to these innocent creatures, what bird would want to be seen at its most dowdy and unattractive, half dressed?