Robins fledge – a living nightmare

I WAS TRYING to work for TG Daily today but when I went out into my little back garden space a strange sight awaited me.

This little fledgling, probably a bit up more in intelligence than a bee, was gazing at me, wondering what was going to happen to it.

I hadn’t a clue myself – the Robin fledgling – and by the way the European Robin is way different from the American Robin – seemed to be dashing its brains in my little back area, trying to fledge.

The birds must just have fledged today. The parent were tirelessly and unceasingly trying to persuade the kids to flee the nest. Every time there was a little cheep, one of the parents came up with a tidbit to attempt to persuade it to fly.

Naturally a small mammal like me didn’t make things easier, crashing around as I did. I wish I’d videoed the sequence. Eventually the one trapped fledgling managed to get over the garden wall. But it won’t stop tweeting. Ah yes, Twitter. And twittering.

With a bit of luck, the Robin family will all fledge. There are few katz in this part of Oxford. The tigers were all killed by the ubergraduates.

Robins are way harder to rescue than bees, because relatively speaking they have higher intelligence. Probably more intelligence than humans. Must be tough to have been shoved out of the nest to make your own way in the world!

2 responses to “Robins fledge – a living nightmare

  1. How’s ’bout a tidbit about Tamlin? And your cat?

    I’ve had to quit pints, myself. Diabetes and Gestapo. Everyone is out to knacker thy neighbor.

    Brandishing torches and staves to sack all the smokers. Not very congenial.

    And certainly not the monkey-throw that one prefer’s for a fledgling robin hood.

    “Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey, hey, oh!! You guys looking for Frankenstein?
    You got the wrong house! Frankenstein lives, uh — [ points behind the villagers ] Yeah, he lives over there. Across the moat. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah! It’s, uh – a big castle.. uh, it’s got those, uh — [ snaps fingers ] oh, what do you call it, those white trees out front, uh — Yeah. Whatever… How do I know you’re not Frankenstein’s Monster, you freakin’ genius?! I mean — I’m a cobbler. I make shoes, and I hang out with my nitroglycerin. You want to lynch me for that – be my guest!

    I’m going out to have a butcher’s at the deer, coyotes and the owls. ‘Saw hawks this morning. I live in the woods. Town bad. Sheriff bad.

    I’d like to be able to visit Canada, one day.

    Like

  2. Pingback: The Robin fledgling is dead « Mad Mike Magee’s Musings

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