Mrs The Millbrooker walked out to meet me on my homeward trog from work yesterday; we had a brief chat with Frankenkeith outside his abode and then carried on back to Millbrooker Towers. Before we'd got much farther, though, Mrs The Millbrooker spotted a little bundle of fluff shivering and looking very sorry for itself on the pathway.
What to do with a small robin, obviously not very well, and in a position where any passing cat would have had a minute or two's fun before leaving it dead? Frankly, we didn't really know what was for the best, but plumped for picking the wee creature up and taking it to our disused bird table, well out of any cat-like harm's way.
And there we plonked him:
Immediately after the impromptu photo session, we left the wee chap whilst we gathered some food and water. When we returned only minutes later, he was gone and was nowhere to be seen at all. We can only hope he made a quick flight to safety; we can only hope we did the right thing in the first place by moving him. I guess we'll not ever know.
Immediately after the impromptu photo session, we left the wee chap whilst we gathered some food and water. When we returned only minutes later, he was gone and was nowhere to be seen at all. We can only hope he made a quick flight to safety; we can only hope we did the right thing in the first place by moving him. I guess we'll not ever know.
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