Birdies. Going Cheep.

So there I am, lying on the sofa, hot and knackered after walking into town and back in the blazing heat (mad dogs and Englishwomen...) and wondering why the cat's skulking under the table. Decide she's just too hot, and carry on reading book until there's this *scuffle scuffle chEEp!* from the other side of the room. Eventually extricate small and barely fledged (unless Smudge had had a good suck in the meantime anyway) but otherwise apparently unharmed birdie.

Deposit said birdie in hedge, where it flutters away into the undergrowth. Return to book, and laugh at cat who is trying to tunnel under the bookcase. "Ah, mummy's taken away your furry toy!" But no, obviously, you've guessed, there was another one. This follows birdie 1 into the garden, although I think this one had had its chips. So now I'm just waiting to see how many more the little bugger's smuggled in. Or how long until she brings the first two back in...