Yesterday evening, while walking round the garden, I looked down and
saw a baby bird struggling for life. No more than a few days old was
it. I picked it up with the dust pan and then it looked up, eyes
closed, and opened it's beack. It was crying out for help.
How did it arrive there? I do not know for there are no nests nearby.
It's destiny was close. Without a home such young ones survive not
very long. No other choice had I than to take it what I thought would
be the best, the back of the garden.
How strong we are and also how weak we are...
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