Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes

There was an almighty racket in the garden. It could only be a wren. The tiny songsters have a voice far too big for their size, and their song is incredibly rich and varied. This, though, was a persistent, juvenile cheep, at a volume that seemed impossible for a baby bird little bigger than a walnut. I needed only to turn my head, though, to see the culprit, perched on the fence and demanding to be fed.

Grabbing the camera, I snapped a few pictures, then put out some food…high enough so that Ani wouldn’t get it. She has taken to eating birdfood, given half a chance, and whether it is scraps…which okay, I could have given her… or the meal-worm fat balls, she doesn’t care. She’ll eat almost anything.

The youngster, his beak still wide and yellow with youth, pottered around for a bit having breakfast, then flew into…