I feel quite emotional seeing them again,’ says the man from Murphy’s. Stretched out before us is a line of five-foot fibreglass painted bird sculptures, illuminated along the garden paths.

These are the Hoodwinked robins, inspired by Nottingham legend Robin Hood, that adorned the streets of Nottingham over the summer, come home to roost at the hospice where I work, which will eventually benefit from proceeds of their sale.

Last time I saw the man from Murphy’s was the night the flock arrived (although, just to be pedantic, robins don’t flock, they are solitary). The 33 robin sculptures were laid out in rows in the castle grounds on a sultry summer evening. I was one of the lucky ones invited to take a look before the public were let loose on them.

I wasn’t sure about them at that point,  all lined up, silhouetted against the skyline, slightly ominous in the fading light. I wasn’t sure if they held a hint of menace. And they were all winking at me.

The crew from Murphy’s were gearing up for an overnight shift, delivering robins to their city centre locations. They’d come up from Kentish town for this. It made a change from their usual duties of shifting heavy plant and materials for the construction industry. A colleague of mine went with them on their lorry. They got some interesting reactions from people out enjoying Nottingham’s night-time economy.

I visited the trail in town the following morning. A man a little the worse for wear stood in front of the Theatre Royal robin. He blinked, pointed, leaned forward to get a closer look, walked round the back of the sculpture, raised his eyes Heavenwards,  turned to me and asked, “Were that there yesterday?”

“It flew in overnight,” I told him.

One of the robins, I’d seen before. I’d watched it take shape in the Day Therapy centre of the hospice. Our patients contributed their ideas for the design then worked with Jess, the artist, to see those concepts realised. The patients, all of whom have terminal illnesses, then got involved with painting. So this particular robin, called ‘Hands of Hope’, immortalises pieces of our patients. The sunflower on the back was painted by Phyllis, chosen because it was her late daughter’s favourite flower. The boots were designed by Lene, one of our younger patients who is working through a bucket list to create memories for her five year old daughter. As I saw Hands of Hope take shape, as I watched patients with shaky hands add their brushstrokes, I grew attached. So later, whenever I saw it on its perch near the Brian Clough statue in town I let out a little ‘aahh!’, and said to whoever I was with “This is my favourite. This is the one our patients painted.”

The robins appeared in town on the day England beat Sweden in the World Cup quarter-finals, and I watched with anxiety as video clips of victorious England fans beating the s**t out of each other in Nottingham got shared around the Internet. I feared for the robins, but they survived unscathed.

Of course the real inside track would be what the robins themselves saw. Who knows what they witnessed when they stood sentry, day and night, on our streets? They certainly seemed to inspire some interesting behaviour. I spotted a couple, who clearly needed to get a room, becoming quite amorous around ‘Hands of Hope’ at 11 o clock one Saurday morning. A colleague saw a young guy, drunk but feeling generous, literally throwing money at one of the sculptures, after peering at it for some time trying to work out where the coin slot was. Mostly though, children climbed them, cuddled them, collected them, ticked them off their lists, and people took selfies. These quirky, winking bird sculptures brightened up our city all summer and brought smiles to the faces of young and old.

So now the summer’s over, we’re saying goodbye to the robins. We’ve created a mini-trail around the hospice garden and they look fabulous all lit up. It’s a balmy night like the one in July when they all arrived, temperatures are up in the mid-twenties, but this is October. The man from Murphy’s reckons the robins are controlling the weather. They have special powers… Powers to make grown men feel emotional. It’s dark and I can’t tell if he has a tear in his eye, but he has a  glass of Prosecco in his hand.

POSTCRIPT

The robins went under the hammer on Thursday. They each fetched between £3-5.8K at auction, totalling £133,300, proceeds of which will come to the hospice. Hands of Hope went to some kind person who is giving it back to the hospice, so our patients can continue to enjoy the fruits of their labour. A crowdfunder put together by a community Facebook group in the area where I live successfully bid for two robins, so although most have now flown the nest at least three will remain in our midst.