Sunday, 24 April 2011

Mother nature plays a scene

We all went for a walk to the pub on Friday, and I managed a pint of lager before needing to rush to the loo every five minutes. But having the lads with us meant that we had to leave and wander homewards, with in five minutes of reaching the door, I was bursting once again and had to rush ahead to race up the steps by the old church and home.

At the top of the steps I encountered a little Black and white pussy cat that was acting most strange. Have you ever seen a cat look guilty? Well this one did and then I saw why. A fledgling Starling, not even enough semi-formed feathers to even attempt flight, but with the claws and jaws of a cat clamped tight around, it barely had a chance of life. I stepped in and tried to part the cat and bird, which when you are nearly six foot tall and wearing Doctor Marten Boots is easier than you would imagine. I can honestly say that it did not require the placing of the toe of my boot against the anus of the cat, but it was close.

With the little bundle now safely held in my hands, I rushed off home with Carol and the lads in tow. Once inside we assessed the damage and placed the little bird in a box, I fully expected it to be dead by morning.

Little Jack
Only Little Jack Starling did not die in the night and the next day he was subdued but alive. So we went shopping and bought him some food, which he proceeded to wolf down like a starved orphan!

Little Jack, just before breaking my heart

Hoping for a recovery and maybe a little Garden guest, we made sure that he had a safe place away from the cats and where he could develop his flight feathers. In other words we built an aviary for the little pest.

On the morning of day three, he was starting to look a bit fragile and he died in my hands. We buried him in the garden under the bush and yes, I did cry. The biggest worry with finding a wild animal that has been hurt by a cat is how serious the injuries are. On a Easter Bank Holiday, an open vets surgery is not very common and ours was closed.  Our little Starling died from an internal injury caused by a cat bite.

Yet our story does not end there today, there were things afoot and Carol and I wanted to celebrate our three year anniversary in a special way, so we bought an owl!

Little Alby is a Barn Owl and a cheeky little chappie. At the moment he is a bundle of snow white down and Claws! Well, I say he, but have you every tried to tell the sex of a barn owl, it is rather hard,

Anyway, meet Alby, our latest house guest.

Get too close and I will have you! Grrrrrrr...