There was an odd scratching at one of the front room windows earlier this morning. I thought maybe I was imagining things, but Lucy, Cal'y, and Hobbes all awoke to the sound and were greatly interested.

Indeed, Lucy has been very interested in the goings on outside over the last couple days, jumping down from the cat-shelf in the side-window over to a like perch in front on the Trainasium, then back from whence she had come, all with focus and great earnestness, her tail thrashing back and forth silently.

All was explained just now as I walked out to the car (parked in front on a gravel pad I installed last year) and got dam-near bowled over by a very young robin blasting by inches from my right ear.

The first crop are learning to fly, an exercise undertaken with great enthusiasm and very little directional control, whether by lack of experience or the almost total lack of tail feathers at that stage of growth is up for debate. I say both are factors.

It's a dangerous time to be out of doors. I had one shoot full-speed ahead (and it's always at full speed, for they have not learnt anything about throttle settings either) between my legs, another bouncing off the roof of the workshop only to make a student landing in the garden beyond, looking about with great pride in his accomplishment.

This time the little perisher flew into the drivers side of the car, slid down the window and came to a stop on the ledge above the door handle which he then proceeded to decorate with what remained of breakfast, then gave it all a great heave-ho and let-r-rip again, straight into the front window from which he flipped, flopped, and flapped around and down to the grass, looking immensely pleased with himself.

It was then I noticed an adult standing in the grass supervising this display of aeronautical prowess. She had to have been laughing like hell...

I can hear the line from "Battle of Britain":

"Bumps-a-daisy....It's enough to make you weep."


All together now, "You can teach monkeys to fly better than that!"