Daily Larry & friends: 2012

Little Larry in heavenly light

It's me! Little Larry

Just now, it seems I’ve known them for ever. The dearest, sweetest - and I suppose, reddest - friends I’ve ever had. Three robins, one called Larry Legs, the second (one of his fledglings), Little Larry - he’s my iconic bird - and Ollie. He’s the finest of Little Larry’s fledglings and possibly the one born to succeed.

It was in April last year, in fact, that I first noticed a very distinctive, elegant bird, gazing at me from out of the hawthorn. A robin unmistakably. But not just any old robin. It was his legs. Long and thin like stilts. Back straight as a Royal.

Larry Legs

I’d just started to feed the garden birds live mealworms - easy when you get used to it - to help them feed their young. At first they stayed away, uncertain of what was on offer. ‘That’s no worm,’ I heard them tweet. So I drowned a few and left them on the bird table (live ones would have crawled off).

Larry Legs

And that seemed to work - except for the bird I’d seen in the hawthorn. He was having none of it. I could see the table from out of my study window, and there was the robin staring straight back at me. Then he started to have a tantrum. I stood - make that sat - mesmerised.

He picked up a dead worm, stamped his feet, then threw it back on the table. Not just once, but repeatedly. This bird was angry. And he was telling me in no uncertain terms. ‘I want live - these things are dead!’

Larry Legs

And that was the beginning of a beautiful relationship. I sped outside, placed a bowl of live worms on the granite mushroom - a proper, authentic one - then sat on the bench and waited. He came immediately. The small robin on stilts. He gobbled up a few and then took a couple more away. Within minutes he was back. I’d won his appetite but, as yet, not his heart.

Now I’m one those people who can’t help naming some of the wild creatures who come in regularly to the garden. I have, for example, Mr. & Mrs. Lupin the hedgehogs, Jeremy the bank vole and Palmer (after Samuel) the barn owl.

But what was I to call this amazing robin? Then I remembered the Bonzo Dog Do Dah Band (how strange the mind is). One of them was called Larry Legs. Perfect.

Larry (with Mrs. Larry) was clearly raising a family. He started coming to me every day. I’d put out food for all of the other birds. But Larry just wanted complete, personal attention. He’d stand upright on the bench, flap his wings as if begging, and then follow me into the garage where he knew I kept the worms. He’d perch on the dustbin lid, watching me open the box. Once the worms were on the ground (his own little patch) Larry would whizz down, pack them in his beak, and then fly off like a little red arrow to feed the scrum of gaping mouths in the nest.

I photographed Larry with a passion. And he took to modelling almost as much as to worms. I never encouraged him to feed from my hand, but one day he had no choice. He was surrounded by dozens of demanding house sparrows and tut-tutting, scolding blackbirds - notably Mr. & Mrs. Elgar and their siblings, the Godzillas (but that’s another story).

So, being Larry, he simply jumped the queue. He flew straight onto my hand where I’d quickly placed a few worms.

And then came the moment. I suppose it’s the sudden realization that you’re in love and that you’re loved in return.

Little Larry

Instead of taking one of the wriggling victims on my hand immediately, Larry paused. He looked straight into my eyes and held them for several seconds. It said everything. A precious moment in time. This was trust, respect, an understanding between both of us. ‘I will always look after you Larry Legs,’ I said. And he knew it.

Late in July, Larry appeared with two fledglings. (I never did locate the nest but I knew it was somewhere close to the front garden.) A few days later, while dad sat high up on a branch singing - as dads do - I stood watching the children. One of them hopped to the front, and I began to take his picture. He let me get closer and closer. I switched over to a macro lens. And suddenly I was inches from his beak. The shots were amazing.

Little Larry newly fledged

Little Larry - a week old

The events which unfolded from hereon have, I suppose, taken over much of my life. For this was the start of Little Larry. Not only a chip off the old block. But I have to think, a bird simply from somewhere else. Numinous, more intelligent than any of us. He knows something we don’t know. And that’s all I know. Except that I’m crazy about Little Larry.

Little Larry - a month old

Little Larry sunbathing next to me

I’ve watched this little bird practically every day, photographing his transformation from a speckled brown fledgling into a brand new robin with a smart grey school cap and red blazer.

Little Larry in his school colours

Little Larry singing out for Spring

Little Larry such a poser

Throughout Little Larry’s development, Larry Legs watched over him - his offspring following him around and copying all of his habits. He would hop into the garage after him and stand at my feet as if begging too.

Little Larry begged too & was rewarded

But slowly - and always observing my care for his son - Larry Legs began to take a back seat, until one day he seemed to vanish. His job was done. It was as if he was satisfied that I would keep a faithful eye on his progeny, or more accurately, prodigy! So three of us - because by this time, I was pretty sure I was at least half a robin as well - became two.

I still sense Larry senior in the trees around us, but he’s left the stage to junior.

Little Larry thinking I'd never find him... I did!

Little Larry adult

Little Larry shouts for meal worms

Through sun and cloud, wind and rain, I’ve fed Little Larry mealworms, talked to him - he sings right back - and photographed him non-stop. (If a picture says a thousand words, you might like to know that I’ve already taken over a couple of thousand photographs of the two of them.)

Little Larry loves the camera

100mm Macro lens & Little Larry

Little Larry working hard in the rain

The rest of the tale requires at least another chapter that may well be all about Ollie. I don’t honestly know yet. Robins are fierce little birds and Larry - when his tail (it’s moulting time) and pride are finally restored - might well chase him off. I’m watching and waiting and wondering how it will all turn out. Love stories, after all, never fail to surprise, nor end. Ever.