One squab has gone, already. The other made a dash for it, flapping wildly, and unsure what to do when it landed, awkwardly, on the pub opposite. It flapped a bit more, and ended up on my doorstep, looking up at me, squeaking pathetically. I went down and it was on the windowsill of The Cutter, the poor daft thing still has some of it's yellow baby feathers. I don't think it has the strength yet, to fly properly.
Anyway, it let me pick it up happily enough, and bring it home. I carried it up the stairs past Eric, who regarded it with customary contempt. It's back in it's nest, for a little while at least. It won't be long though, I'm sure. Funny. It was exactly a month today that the first one hatched.
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