Fledglings

At this time of year small birds are figuring out how to fly.  I am assisting in the refinement of the avian gene pool by attempting to remove those who don’t learn quickly enough.

I say ‘attempting’.  Mr B seems to have some sort of soft spot (he calls it compassion) for the slow learners of the bird world.  Compassion doesn’t feed cats.  OK, OK, Mr B feeds this cat but cat-food isn’t warm and fresh, and comes packaged in plastic rather than completely biodegradable feathers.  So I’m doing the environment a favour too.

Along the side of my garage is a really nasty prickly bush which F calls the ‘Murderous Bush’.  At this time of year it has lots of white flowers, and later has red berries which the birds like to eat in the winter time.  Those thorns make it no place for a cat, and Mr B puts all his rescued fledglings in that bush.  They seem to like it.  Some of them even have the cheek to sit in there and chirrup at me.  They weren’t sounding so clever sitting on the lawn.

Yesterday I found a blackbird fledgling.  I don’t enjoy eating blackbirds, it’s just the challenge of sneaking up and catching them that attracts me.  I actually delivered that one to Mr B to put in his prickly bush.  (He’s saying that he rescued it off me. Tosh!  I brought it to him.)  Today it’s mother is feeding it.  I trust I have administered a valuable life lesson to said young blackbird.