It's fledgling time again and this morning the parent birds were shouting
warning cries when I let the cats out.   The birds build in the most absurd
places.   Their latest nest was in the orange tree at eye level and for some
reason the cats never discovered them.

I was eating breakfast when I heard the screaming - I knew one of the cats
had a fledgling.     It was sitting at the bottom of the back steps and I
have never heard such a terrible noise from a small bird.    Its alarmed
parents were doing wheelies overhead.   Clyde sat  beside the chick looking
wonderingly at it - seeemingly aghast at the noise.   He must have found it
and brought it to the steps.   He was obviously quite troubled at the
thought of touching anything so noisy.

Then I made a mistake.   Instead of grabbing Clyde, I tried to grab the
bird.   It wasn't much of  a flier but evaded my clumsy paws easily.   It
staggered into the  air and flew into a clump of bushes pursued by a wildly
excited Clyde and two parent birds dive-bombing us all.

Clyde misjudged his prey and sprang on the wrong bush - I saw the fledgling
and grabbed it.   The little fellow was completely unharmed and still
screaming its head off - it had an open yellow beak wide enough to swallow
the ocean.

I grabbed Clyde in the other hand and threw him inside.
The bird I tossed over the high fence skirting the neighbours' property.
Later I saw the parent birds on the job delivering beakfuls of worms.
Clyde's  been locked inside ever since.   Bonnie, thankfully, was out of
earshot, otherwise she would have joined in the skirmish.

I reckon  fledglings are most susceptible the first day or so out of the
nest so I am going to have to keep a close eye on the fur brigade.

Bev