My earliest memory of the Robin stands out clearly in my mind. I was about five years old and out in the yard shaking bread crumbs for the chickens.
With his usual eagerness our resident Robin red breast bobbed along beside me waiting for each handful of breadcrumbs. Of course he got bullied away repetitively by the chickens but he stuck to his guns and stayed with me.
I saved him a few crumbs so closed the yard gate leaving the Robin with a bit of peace to dine. I was amazed that I was so close, about 2 foot, from a wild bird.
With his few crumbs eaten he looked up at me, then my granny's cat flattened him! ****ING cat, I hated her for years after that.