Robin Red Breast.

When I was little Robins were my favourite bird, I guess because they were so easy to identify. When my father died I used to go to the cemetary every day and every day without fail a Robin would hop onto his headstone. At the time I probably read all sorts of things into it, but its regular appearance was comforting and I grew to look forward to its visits.

This wee Robin tends to hang out in our garden and is extremely territorial, puffing out its red chest. I think I read somewhere that a Robin will defend it's territory to the death, but I'm not sure. Anyway, I like seeing him since he serves as an odd kind of connection between my Father and I.

Have a relaxing weekend all.