This is my fourth robin study and likely my tenth exploration of the subject in one format, medium, or another. I observed this bird at Sculpture by the Lakes in Dorchester. I am often interested in the moment either just before or after an action, rather than the action itself, and I felt compelled to capture the moment when this particular bird was on the ground and half a second from taking flight.

The Robin is a bird I will always instantly identify with the UK. When the first colonists left England and traveled to America, they named many things after supposed British counterparts. When they landed in 1620 on the coast of what would one day become Massachusetts, they named the site Plymouth Rock, because they had originally sailed out of Plymouth Harbor in Devon. In fact, the East Coast of the United States is filled with cities directly named after the places the colonists had known in the UK. Likewise, when it came to naming the flora and fauna of their new home, they leaned heavily on what they knew.

The American Robin, which bears the unfortunate Latin name Turdus americanus, looks nothing like its European counterpart, to which it is entirely unrelated (except being a bird). Of course, both birds do have an orange breast, but the resemblance ends there. The American Robin is a large bird of the Thrush family, whereas the European robin is related more closely to the Flycatcher family. Where American robins are big, brash, and a bit clumsy, European Robins are tiny, elegant and dainty. To someone who loves birds, the contrast is quite distinct, and reflective enough of the difference in character between typically rugged, bold, outspoken Americans and often refined, cultured, stiff-upper-lip Brits, that I can’t help but consider each bird a very effective mascot for these two very different places and cultures.