Robin is a beautiful little bird in the green dense forest. His shape is wonderful, his movements are restless. He flew from one branch to another, fluttering his two small wings with joy in his mind, combing his feathers with his lips, and making the forest mesmerize with ignorant cuckoos. But not all days are the same. When it gets dark in the name of rain or a bone-chilling winter comes, then the big trouble is for the little Robin. Even in the thick feathers, the lips do not mean winter, even if the body is covered behind the leaves, the rain cannot be stopped. So in the rainy days he spends his days and nights in the hollows of tree trunks — the burden of gathering food.