Ignorant Ornithology: For Every Sparrow Fallen.

This week I've been trying to record some demo pieces for a uke project that involves Wukulele's erstwhile leadereen Harriet B.

I've been continually thwarted in the attempt by the incessant chirping of a sparrow that sits on the guttering of the flat.

I was standing under the hatch to the attic and was surprised that the chipping seemed to be coming from above the hatch.

On opening the hatch I found this:

I won't go into the prolonged and frustrating capture procedure, but eventually I ended up with a bird in my hand:

I then realised that the bird on the guttering was one of the chick's frantic parents calling to their missing offspring.

I took the chick out and put it on one of the Cordyline's in the front garden:

From where it promptly descended to the middle of the road.

I picked it up again and tried to put it close to a bush across the road where it's parents were fluttering about.

The chick dived into a tangle of ivy in a six inch gap between a wall and a wooden fence.

Linda came out with her secateurs and cut the ivy back until I could reach the chick.

I scooped it up again and placed it in the branches of a tree somewhere close to where I assumed it's nest to be.

By this time it's parents had disappeared.

I wish it well but, considering the cat population of this area, I feel it's doomed.

I can't cry for every sparrow fallen, but I may shed a tear or two over this poor mite.

My Father was right, I'm bloody useless.