CHAFFINCH HAS WOMAN'S ARM TRANSPLANT!

Obviously there has been no such Frankenstein type transplant. It's the chaffinch that flew into the window the other week, the one I mentioned with the siskin photo.Today is all about my barmy birds. Now, my little feathered friends I love you all dearly, you keep me sane in a mad world but, lets face it your're a bit of a nightmare aren't you?

1. Stop pooping on my washing. It's very fustrating to find your birdy dropping on my freshly washed clothes. It's not big and it's not clever!

2.Learn to share. You know there is a never ending supply, so queue in an orderly fashion, and then peck away.

3.Sort out your air traffic control. It's a window, not a drive through mcbirdies. I will not always be around(or Barker) to rescue you when you've flung yourself headlong at the window, fall onto your back and can't get onto your feet. I haven't really got 3 hours to sit with you until you come round and then run round the garden with you teaching you how to fly. Besides that, it's hard trying to explain to the neighbours, er yes it's another poorly bird, too coincidental for them.

4.Stop having mass orgies in my garden. Really, the noise. Chasing each other, groups, not practising safe sex, promiscuity. Please I'm going all "NIMBY"with you birds, Not In My BackYard.

5. Last but not least, stay bloddy still when I'm trying to photograph you, yes you mr grey pied wagtail, it's not a race, chill out.

So the pic is me and my poorly chaffinch, the one that wouldn't fly off, the one that I was running up and dwon the garden with flaping my arms to encourage him to fly. So get the tripod out, set the pic up, and click the timer.

WALLABY WATCH!

Warding off those naughty cats without bells who try and kill my pretties, my birds. It suits him working outdoors as he can have a fag anytime.