Squabble

So this morning Mum woke me to tell me a pigeon was stuck in our garden, and she’d rescued it from Alfie and Thom but it was baby and so couldn’t fly. I got up and (eventually) caught it (determined little mite) to find it’s a fledgling in good feather and good health bar a puncture wound under his left wing. Whether Alfie made that wound I don’t know – it looked older and Alfie is a failure bird-wise (he just wanted to play – like a cat playing, not play hunting). His parents were nearby but I figured the puncture wound would continue to prevent him flying and it’s only a matter of time before he goes into the neighbours (Beagle), the other neighbours (cat) or the allotment (lots of dog walkers), not to mention our lot. So I took him with me. He’s having the full works, hand fed as he’s not old enough to eat by himself yet, and he’s a bolshie little thing; snaps his beak (on air – doesn’t try to bite), puffs up and then hits you with his wing hard if you get too close. I’ve never successfully rehabed a bird but housemate keeps them and has hand fed them before so has taught me.

So he is a squab, and his name is Squabble. Finger’s crossed he makes it 🙂