What shall we call her?

The man and his apprentice have laid down their hammers, and the void they created has been packed with cotton wool. Meanwhile, the rest of my body has been turned into a factory dedicated to the production of a weapons grade virus. Today, the weather was grey and cold and post-apocalyptic, and I didn't feel inclined to venture abroad. So my daily walk was reduced to a shuffle round the garden.

The garden robins were there to cheer me up. There are two of them now, male and female, and I believe this is the female, as her mate was singing quietly nearby as I took this photograph. She is all fluffed up against the cold, and like our garden blackbirds, she is very confiding when I am nearby. And speaking of the blackbirds, there is one large female who waits for me every morning to put out their tucker, and she immediately descends to within touching distance, fanning her tail, clucking and shooing away her rivals. I took a photo of her today to compare with the early 2011 shots, and she is definitely the Boss.

Maintaining the increasingly positive momentum of this blip, I have been overwhelmed by the response to yesterday's Fireglow. I'm even more glad now that I ventured out to witness and share the spectacle.

Emyjane would know immediately what to call my robin and her mate. With my cotton-wool filled brain I am bereft of ideas. Suggestions, please.