Gets more gallus by the day. Today I opened the front door, to go to the shops, in it hopped, cheeping and casting a pair of baleful-eyes upon our decor as if to say, "what were you were thinking of?"
We've hollowed out a wee cave amongst the ivy on our inner fence, so that hem [He/her] can feed in peace; this is a playground, gulls and crows swoop and squall, every bit of food involves a fight.
My wife and I went into the garden with cheese, and various other protein-bits for said cave, hem hopped and cheeped his way along with us.
My wife took photographs as he fill his beak, I took in the crow, perched and watching on the guttering of our roof and the seabirds circling.
I'm not sure what to worry about most: my wife's desire to make our new friend a pet, or the resident fowl-life's desire to eat either hem or hem's provander.
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Awww no Mummy or Daddy to protect the ickle pickle then? Are you sure it is a baby and not an adult playing you for a mug?