Some days I'm trying to be a domestic goddess, some days I'm trying to be an academic, some days I'm just trying to stay awake, and then some days I'm trying to rescue tiny birds from the jaws of a ruthless cat.
This tiny tiny thing was brought in by Sniff today. He was stroked and soothed by me the best I could (I have no experience with birds, but hoped that very gentle stroking would calm it down) and the with Sniff locked in the flat the bird was taken outside. I think he was okay, no obvious wounds other than a little redness where Sniff had carried him. He tried to fly, but was fluttering on the ground and then disappeared under the fence into the grass next door. I keep telling myself that it will be okay, and so far Sniff as returned to the flat empty-jawed, which I can only hope is a good omen for such a sweet little bird.
I love Sniff so much that my heart aches when he eeks unhappily, and bursts when I wake up with him sleeping full length on my chest. But there are times when I wish I could explain to him just why I'm not pleased with his presents. Poor thing looked so sad when I took his toy away.
Things are manic right now, and for once I've been so busy I haven't busted out the baking tins in more than a week. A week, people! A tragedy, I know as alas, not even a three day weekend yielded the usual flurry of activity in this north London kitchen. But I promise I'll try harder, and hopefully have a recipe up in a couple of days.