Sheena Patterson of Oxford Garden Design makes a new friend in the garden

Practice what you preach was my New Year resolution.

So, to follow up from last week’s article on burning up those extra Christmas calories we planted some bare root trees in the garden over the holiday season.

Hard work it certainly was but I’m sure that it did us a lot of good on several counts.

Firstly, our green credentials have improved – planting a tree has got to be an environmentally friendly act if ever there was one.

Secondly we are leaving a lasting legacy in the shape of seven ornamental pears to be enjoyed for years.

Thirdly, the outdoor exercise gave us a glow of smug self satisfaction.

And finally, we made a new friend – a seasonally appropriate little robin red breast.

He stayed close by all day, supervising operations with a cheerful chirp (unlike some birds they sing all year round) and seemed to be willing us on when the going got tough.

I was touched by his diligence and fortitude. No wonder the robin was voted the national bird of Great Britain in a ballot nearly 40 years ago.

Our new friendship, of course, was one of pure convenience as far as our best mate was concerned.

We were providing food with our spades and pickaxes in the form of the juicy worms being uncovered.

A tasty meal when other garden pickings are in short supply.

He (or she) is most defiantly “our” robin and sees “our” garden as his (or her) territory. Prepared to share it with humans but not with a close relative.

Robins are in fact the most territorial and aggressive of all birds. And it’s not a male/female thing, both sexes adopt territories which can extend up to an acre.

Consequently, any distantly related cousin entering their patch will be threatened and attacked. Youngsters, without the red breast, are exempted, as are potential partners at breeding time, but all others must stay away or face severe consequences.

The pretty song that we enjoyed whilst planting the trees is not in fact an outpouring of joy, it’s a warning sound meaning “leave off my worms or else!” Obviously the robin is not as friendly as initial appearances would seem. Their manners are generally bad at the bird table, driving off other would be other feeders with bullying behaviour.

The hen leads the most liberated life a female bird on the British Isles could wish for and will fight to defend her territory.

At the start of the year, the cock robin sings to inform the females in the area that he’s ready to “perform”.

It’s the women who leave their territories to choose a suitable mate.

Once the lucky boy is chosen his job is to provide the food while she nests and incubates.

Before the age of gardening the robin was a shy, retiring woodland bird.

It has remained so over much of Europe but in Britain, a land of gardeners, it has become almost tame, sometimes even feeding by hand. The sight of my feisty little gardening friend, sitting cheekily on the wall, cheers up these dark January days.

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