| Original Message: Some years ago, when we were living in our previous house, we had an exceptionally friendly robin. |
|---|
|
What happened was that it flew into the kitchen wondow and stunned itself. We heard the thud, went outside, picked the bird off the ground, and put it in an open-topped cardboard box on some wood wool padding to recover. When it was just coming round, we picked it up, took it outside and put it very gently on a branch of the bush that grew outside our back door, where it came to full consciousness and eventually flew away. After that it lost all fear of us. It would follow us into the workshop (where we kept the bird food) and the when we put the food out, as we did each day, the food and the robin used to hit the ground simultaneously – we reckoned it must have been the best-fed robin in the country. My wife found it one day perched on a banana on the bowl of fruit on the kitchen table, and on another day, when it got lost at the "wrong end" of the workshop, it allowed me to pick it up and take it back outside. One sunny Summer day, my wife's mother was sitting in the garden, and it brought its brood up to her to be fed. It eventually went the way of all flesh, but it lived in our garden for 3 years, which was a good age for a bird as small as that. We called it Fluffball. |
|
|