Tweetin'

You know those cool mornings with a layer of dew on the grass? The kind of mornings where coffee smells so delicious in the cool crisp breeze?  

We'd picked up some fresh patisserie from a farm shop near to Momma's. With the dewy grass so tempting, I headed out into her summer house for a quiet read of my favourite blogs, and an indulgent breakfast. Or, so I thought. 

Vivaldi seemed a bit out of character, normally she hates getting her perfect paws dampened. She also seemed on alert, crossing the grass and looking attentive. Unimpressed she glared up into the trees. 

I followed her eye line to a tiny little Robin, puffed up singing from the depths of its little lungs. It's song had faded into the background for me, so consistent, and so cute. 

In tuned to the twitter feed going on around me, Vivaldi dashed towards a little blackbird tossing leaves around. 

Pensive, she bolted towards it, but the bird stood its ground.

It was an awkward stand off, and I hoped that I wouldn't have to get involved. I remember some family fable about my Grandfather spew blood from his head after an Indian Miner Bird attack in the early eighties. I hardly wanted to be the blackbird incident of 2014 survivor. 

She was clearly swinging above her weight, and ran hiding. 

That's my girl. Start a fight, then leggit. 

I tried to coax her out, "no, not until you've sorted the robin out" she stomped. "Lookit, it's digging up your coffee beans." 

Sigh, off I went, flapping like a crazy bird lady. 

Instead of flying off, it hopped into the shrubs on it's little legs. Looking confused and somewhat smarmy. 

"He's gone now, you can come out" I called to her. 

I returned to my now cold coffee and was dubious now about the pastries, worried that while I had my back turned they may have been nibbled by little feathery villains. If you'd listen to Vivaldi, I'm sure she'd perpetuate crimes just to have them extinguished. 

Vivaldi hopped around the grass and came over to my side. She asked nervously "The robin's not, you know, cuter than me is he?" 

"What! No, of course not, come here you." With that, I ticked her whiskery nose. Andy brought her a carrot for safe measure too, and an extra topup of coffee.