A couple of days ago I wrote that we seemed to have goats everywhere invading our lives. Well that's stopped. It's now birds! Not that we mind.
There's the baby bird in the photos, for instance, who flew onto my wife's hand while she was gardening - that's why she's wearing the dirty gloves. He must have needed a rest and was quite happy to remain where he was while I went indoors to fetch my camera.
Later we walked down the road where we live and there was a young girl waiting. She asked if we could help her. She'd found a fledgling bird and didn't know what to do. We sorted that out and, after a walk, returned home.
That evening we were heading, on foot again, to our son's house and at the side of the road a young black rook was ahead of us. He stopped on the pavement and, as we caught up with him, ran next to us looking up at the banked wall at the side of the road.
He ran sort of sideways, looked up, ran a bit further, looked up and so it continued. Almost something like a dog would do. My wife gently picked him up, he didn't struggle, and put him on the high bank. He looked at us as if to say thank you, turned round, and walked off into the undergrowth on the bank.
The birds were all remarkably tame despite being wild. They appeared to trust us, which was a lovely feeling.
Just thinking: I'm posting this on my late mum's birthday - perhaps that's got something to with the birds, some sort of connection. As she got older she would often sit in our living room and say she was happy to sit quietly watching the birds in our garden.