Squab for dinner
It’s about time I blogged about my recent holiday and as I’ve uploaded my holiday pics last night I figured it was a good time to start.
My first entry will be the most important one. It’s concerning a little, baby pigeon. During part of our trip we stayed with some friends in Carlisle and for some reason they ended up with the a little baby pigeon sitting under their bush by their front door. It wasn’t supposed to be there, so we had to assume that it was lost and had been seperated from it’s parents.
Normally I hate pigeons. They crap all over my car and make an unholy racket first thing in the morning. I’ve eaten pigeon before (in France, nice it was too) but I couldn’t just leave this little blighter to it’s own devices. One of the local cats was bravely stalking it so I chased that little bugger off so that my little squab could remain uneaten for the time being.
Clearly, this thing was toast if it remained where it was, so I donned a very manly pair of pink marigolds and picked it up. It squeaked a lot while I moved it to a more safe location within a collection of bushes around the corner, as you can see in the photo.
We left it some food, bread soaked in milk, but it didn’t seem to know what to do with it. No doubt mum was still feeding it.
Unfortunately we had to leave Carlisle the next day and I have no idea if the poor thing is alive or dead. I suspect the latter, but hope that it’s eaten some food, avoided the patrolling cats and grown big and strong so that it can fly like the glorious bird that it is and deposit it’s faecal matter on people’s newly polished cars.