"Who killed Cock Robin?"

Well this afternoon, was a walk along the Old Deeside Railway line from PeterCulter, across Milltimber Brae, Under New Milltimber Yard Bridge to BeaconHill Road Bridge. In some seriously heavy rain. The Cannon water proof camera bag worked, but it is hard to focus through the plastic clear cover.

So of all the various shots I chose this one of the little fellow siting at the side of the old line.

The National Bird and a common favorite, the Robin is easily recognised by most people.

The Robin is a plump bird with bright orange-red breast, face, throat and cheeks edged with grey, a white belly and olive-brown upper parts.

The sexes are very similar, if not identical, though some texts suggest that the brown forehead is "V" shaped in females, and "U" shaped in males, though even this is not always apparent. They have a brown bill and legs.

The juvenile Robin has speckled buff-brown upper parts and under parts. They have no red feathers so that adult birds do not attack them in territorial disputes. The speckled feathers are lost in a partial moult when the bird is about two to three months old.
In the winter, resident birds are joined by immigrants from continental Europe, mostly from Scandinavia; these Robins are paler than ours, have a duller red breast. The immigrants are also generally less tame because they skulk in woodlands, only British Robins are a tame garden bird.

Robins are territorial all year round; during the spring and summer this territoriality is for breeding, but at other times individual robins hold territories for feeding. Robins will defend their territories to the death, and so in the poem "Who killed Cock Robin?", another Robin rather than a sparrow would be more likely:

Robins are rarely seen or heard during midsummer (July-August) when they are moulting and become rather retiring.

At other times they can usually be heard singing their melodious warbling song from strategic perches, often quite high up; it sounds like "twiddle-oo, twiddle-eedee, twiddle-oo twiddle". In the winter, it can sound wistful, some say mournful, but around Christmastime the song becomes stronger and more passionate.

They will sing all through the night and this often leads to them being incorrectly identified as a Nightingale. This has been thought to be caused by streetlights making them believe it is still daytime, but the latest theory is that they are singing when it is quieter, when the hubbub of urban life has crammed down, and their song can then be heard.