|Scruffy the Blackbird, run ragged!|
We all have those days.
Boss is on your case.
Kids need feeding.
House looks like a tip.
Can barely snatch a moment to do the supermarket run.
No time to breathe.
Let alone put a comb through your hair.
It's that time of year again for the birds!
Scruffy the Blackbird's run ragged. Literally.
Feathers mussed up in a mad mohican.
Nobody gives a flying feather!
Everybody's about their own business, grabbing all available food for their own families.
If Scruffy's lucky, he'll get a moment between foraging trips to have a bite himself.
By Summer, I won't even recognise Scruffy.
Maybe I should have given him a better name.
All those extra mealworms will have to be my apology, for now!
|Scruffy the Blackbird rests for a second in the Lilac while Mrs S does her shift gathering baby food|