Bill has been a very naughty boy. Luckily I was in the garden photographing my journal when he came over the wall with the biggest chick I've ever seen. It was still alive so I waited for him to drop it, got on my gardening gloves and put it into a shoe box. No easy feat when you have a phobia about birds but I just kept saying to myself, it's a duck, it's a duck and I got through it. Off I went to the end of the road where the riverside is and released him but he was going nowhere and he was easy prey to others. Luckily a neighbour came along, and after identifying the chick as a heron, no webbed feet (thank goodness I didn't know because that is definately a flappy bird, arghhh) she offered to take him to the RSPCA, bless her.
I got back home and Bill was flat out from the effort of bringing home a bird, a third the size of himself, and over a veritable obstacle course of walled gardens. He was so proud of himself. I love cats but hate this aspect, it just reminds me that a killer sits on my knee and purrs. I'm just so pleased I was in the garden otherwise he would have brought it through the cat flap and into the house and that would have been even more traumatic for me and the poor chick.
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