Robbie is becoming bolder and bolder. Each morning he is waiting at the potting shed door and darts in and out throughout the day, snack in beak, seemingly oblivious as to whether there is gardener in residence or not. Due to the inclement weather (trans. strong winds, incessant rain) I was confined to barracks for much of the day and the frequency of these visits was such that I can only guess there are babes to feed. The alternative is that he will soon need a rocket booster to get his fat behind off the ground.
A loud crash diverted my eye from potting-on towards the window and my initial thought was, “how unlike you Robs, perhaps you were attempting to grab a particularly succulent morsel and forgot to put the brakes on”. However glancing to my left I noticed that Robbie was also observing whatever had made the undignified assault on the glass. Baby Blue Tit! Copying the clever and cool in a manner both dim and disasterous. BBT then proceeded to sit on the beam and twitter for his mum, who appeared to have others to worry about and was going to leave him to sort it out for himself. After a session of headbanging that any Status Quo fan would be proud of, he moved onto the window handle to consider his predicament. Quick as a slightly achy gardener who can’t remember where the keys are and with lots of rubbish in the way, I opened the window and pushed it wide. He continued to sit on the handle, looking in the wrong direction, probably wondering where the draught was coming from. It wasn’t until I went outside and shooed him off that he flitted away. He has a few lessons to learn, let us hope he lives long enough to tell the tale.