Yesterday, I had a little black-bird land in my courtyard (rather thump), he clearly could not fly and it was cold, so i took him some bread in warm water, and he ate it all, then as the day progressed, i realised that the little bugger wasn't going to fly, as he was obviously either injured or really bloody exhausted from a transatlantic flight, so i put a cardboard box out there for him to sleep in, with R's yankee towell (R not happy) and filled a lemonade bottle every couple of hours with warm water for him to sleep against (it's freezing out there). Last night I set my clock-alarm for every two hours when I went to bed to I could change the hot-water-bottles.
When I woke to change his hottie the first time - He had already died.
Poor little thing.
I tried. And I cried!!!
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