Tuesday, 28 April 2015

Fighting, fluttering and fledging

It's that time of year again. 

There was I, taking my morning constitutional with 'Her Indoors', when she notice something fluttering on the verge and,thinking it was an injured bird, reigned me in to curb my terrier instinct. When we got closer, it turned out to be two birds, male wrens, engaged in mortal combat, and so engrossed with killing each other they were oblivious to the threat, looming on all four paws, right next to them. Now if 'Her Indoors' hadn't of been paying attention, and there had been a bit of accidental unpleasantness, it would have been my fault, as I've learnt from bitter experience, which just isn't fair.

And if it's not males fighting it's fledglings fluttering. Why do they leave the nest before they can fly properly? I blame the parents. Instead they bump around, just above ground level, swerving and making emergency landings like inebriated Aeroflot pilots. What is any self respecting dog supposed to do? 

Anyway, we're clearly in the seasonal danger zone again, so I'll have to watch my step, literally...

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