Yesterday afternoon a fellow found an injured galah (the Christmas Present Rifle strikes again) and brought it around to me. I was out all day so he left it here for me. I didn't get the bird because he thought it was cruel to leave it in a box, so he left it perching in a tree on my front lawn. By the time I got home there was no bird in sight, as you would expect from a wild bird. The neighbours found it in their fishpond this morning so they caged it and waited for me to get home.
We transferred the bird to my rescue box, then Brian asked me if I'd seen one of their baby king quail (aka button quail) running around. A little male had escaped from their aviary. At that moment we heard a tiny quail crowing "pee PEE PEE peeeeeee" almost at our feet. A quail about the size of a mouse scuttled out of the front ganden and ran into my back yard, its legs a burr as it ran like a tiny Marvin The Martian. Scruffy saw the bird and his Maltese Terrier genes kicked in. He sat down and watched. Polly looked interested until I said "baddog" which made her hide in the kennel. We chased the bird around the yard - it couldn't fly but boy it could run - until it escaped under the back fence. I was hot, tired and puffed out (kelloggs2066
: that's "buggered" too!).
The galah is at the vet's but I don't like it's chances.
And in peewee news, Peewee#3 which was released last week flew back into the aviary on the farm and demanded someone feed him. H. says it looks like the wild birds rejected him so he's back home having a big sook about the nasty birds and looking for easy food.