Monday’s walk was along the edge of some local woodland. Suddenly, there on the path in front of me, I spotted … a fledgling. A tottering, tumbling ball of fluff, cheeping plaintively and stumbling uncertainly on its large ungainly clawed feet.
I knew enough not to interfere and attempt a rescue, but this little foundling upset me and I felt guilty leaving him to what I assumed would be certain death – especially when, heart-wrenchingly, it tried to follow me. Was the robin perched in the branch above its parent? Later, paging through bird books, I decided not.
Back home, Google was my friend. This article from the RSPB assures me that the parents were probably practising tough love, and beginning the little bird’s preparations for an independent life.