Erithacus Rubecula

There is a robin's nest outside the front door inside a basket of plastic flowers. There in the middle sits a female robin when all of a sudden her male partner flies in.

Robin (male): How are you, my little redbreast?
Robin (female): Fine. Fine, darling. You?
M: Glad to be home. Some of the other males out there are acting a bit uppity. How's the -
F: The family in there?
M: The artist.
F: Pretty good, I think. It was snowing while you were out and they were all out in the garden. The artist's husband was filming them. He looked like a twitcher. The snowflakes were pretty thick.
M: He should be going soon, no?
F: Not sure.
M: I'm sure I heard them talking about it when they were in bed the other night and I popped round the back to get some more twigs.
F: Bring anything for supper?
M: A couple of worms.
F: I'll put the appetite on.
M: How's the belly?
F: Fine.
M: What shall we call it?
F: Do you like Latin?
M: A little.
F: How about Erithacus Rubecula then? Hey, the artist was on her exercise machine again.
M: Was she? What about the kids?
F: They don't need more exercise.
M: No, I meant what were they doing?
F: Oh, that. Sorting through their toys and clothes mostly. Once they came in from the snow.
M: Did the artist do any art?
F: Not today.
M: Good. She needs a rest.
F: You didn't find that magazine did you?
M: Which one?
F: BirdLife International. There's the new IUCN List of Threatened Species.
M: No. Sorry.
F (whispering): Shush.
M: A thrush, did you say?
F: Shush. The artist's kids have gone to bed. I can see the husband typing at the round red table.
M: Not again.

The two robins place their paper napkins round their necks and tuck into some worm.