COLUMN: My son asked what happened Robin and before I could answer, he said: 'You killed him'

Not since the Cashel Palace pint furore has a column evoked such a reaction from readers, writes Darren Hassett.

I’ve had correspondence from several people, many of whom couldn’t wait until this week to find out what happened the Robin.

I’m referencing, of course, last week’s “cliffhanger” column about a Robin that had been appearing at our new house since we broke ground on the build and how our hearts were broken when he ended up caught in a mouse trap.

The column last week ended with:

“So, Sunday evening we were taking the kids for a walk, I had all my traps set for the night to come, but I did a quick scan of them and noticed something behind the house. It was a trap with something in it...

“First of all, it was about ten foot from where I set it and as I got closer I noticed that it was not a mouse that was in it...it was a bird; beak down on the trap. I already knew which bird before I turned it over.

“Audrey asked what was in it and I barely managed to utter: ‘Our beautiful little Robin...’

“He signified all that was peaceful and beautiful about what we were trying to build for us and our kids’ future and now he was gone. I turned the trap over and made the decision to take the little bird out of it. This elegant and graceful creature, this companion, would not suffer the indignity of being thrown into a bin in a mouse trap. I would bury him and mark his grave: ‘Robin’.

“And then, something happened...”

Robin flapped his wing as he tried to jerk himself out of the trap. That explained why he was so far from where I had laid the trap originally.

HE WAS STILL ALIVE!

I managed to lift up the steel bar that was pinning him down and he slowly moved himself out and stood up. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, but the relief soon turned to concern.

He was clearly in a lot of shock.

After his first initial motion to free himself, he was stuck to the ground after that and I felt so sorry for him.

His left eye and the left-hand side of his head area was badly damaged from where the trap had pinned him but somehow; he was alive and there was hope.

Children can be so funny and to the point sometimes.

When the lads came back from the walk I had the box setup with bird seed and water in it and lined it with newspaper to keep him warm.

I also had a lid for it so he could rest-up in peace. Everyone saw the bird resting in the box and in shock, Robin wasn’t doing much moving. Inside the house later that night, Jack asked what had happened to Robin and before I could answer he said:

“You killed him.” I didn’t know what to say. Even though he was alive, I felt as though he might have been better off dead. My eyes welled up again and I said: “I didn’t kill him, he’s alive.”

But Jack’s words stung, because I was responsible for what happened to Robin and it felt as though the next morning, the bird would be dead, and Jack would be right.

Before going to bed Sunday night I went out to check on him and he was still there and responded to my flashlight.

He was still stunned and not moving too much.

I thought to myself, it is going to be a long night for that bird, but if he is still alive tomorrow, there’s a chance he will come through it.

On Monday morning, as soon as I woke, I went out to him and there he was, still alive. I called our vets to see if I could bring him in but they wouldn’t take him.

So, I cleaned out his newspaper as he had pooped quite a bit - which I took to be a good sign. I gave him fresh seeds and fresh water and covered over his box for the day.

He was still in shock for most of Monday but alive, it was the next morning that things took a turn.

On Tuesday he was still in the box. At this stage, I wanted to see if I could prompt him out of it and so I gave him a little nudge and he flew up and out of it to just a few feet away. I couldn’t believe it, it was the worst thing I could have done I think.

As the day went on, I don’t know if he was just a little dazed or what, but he was wandering around to the most stupid of places.

At one stage he went down the laneway and ended up near the road, he just walked down there, no flying...it was weird.

My wife was keeping me informed of his movements and we wondered if it was time to maybe put him out of his misery.

Then a second, much leaner Robin appeared, and stayed beside him for a while. It was both sad and uplifting.

Our fat Robin was still just doing his own thing and every time we put him back in the box, he would fly out again and wander around the house.

In a way, he was back to his old self. Just a bit slower. We kept an eye on him Tuesday night and made sure he couldn’t stray from the box overnight. On Wednesday morning, still alive, we lifted the lid again to let him wander for a few more hours.

This time, he flew up and away from the house and to the trees, and we haven’t seen him since. He had one good eye, his left eye was still swollen, but he had survived the shock and the trap.

This was one tough Robin.

I’ve been out at the bird feeders every morning and every evening with Jack as usual, and no sign of our fat Robin. Strangely, the lean red-breasted bird eats at one of our bird feeders near the front of the garden now.

When our fat Robin was convalescing and the other Robin appeared, it was the first time we’d ever seen a second one at the house and she is there every morning and every evening we go out, but no sign of our fat Robin just yet.

Audrey reckons he is still alive. She says it’s important we hold on to that thought and continue to hope that we will see him one day.

I’m sure you’re thinking, it’s just a bird, sure what does it matter. And I guess you’d be right to think that, but it’s also important to care about things.

Jack and I bought a bird bath at the weekend and left it out on an old ruin that’s in the garden.

He thought it was hilarious that birds would take baths, and so we filled it with water and left it in the garden, hoping to entice the fat Robin home.

I’d like to see him again, if only just for a moment, to know that he survived and I didn’t kill him.