Hammering On

That yellowhammer may have adopted me as provider. On the fence bordering the front lawn I have what Andre and I used to call the “cat TV tin.”  That’s where suitable household scraps go for the benefit of the wild birds. (The the household cat/s sit and watch it through the window as small birds come and go. It keeps them amused for ages)  As I’m currently working my way through a stack of steak (from my last beef steer) there’s a steady trickle of cooked bits of fat going out there – usually however, in the late afternoon after my dinner. However this morning I took out letters to leave in the mailbox for collection, to find that the Yellowhammer had followed me up the lawn, was now sitting beside the Cat TV tin, and eyeing me very pointedly. Er – hadn’t I forgotten something? No, I hadn’t, I’m not eating steak for breakfast just so s/he can eat it too. He’ll have to settle for sharing the hens’ breakfast wheat or find a worm or something. Come to that, he HAD shared the hens’ wheat, he’s just being greedy. (I say ‘he’ for convenience,  I have no idea what sex my tiny yellow friend may be.)

 

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