I should probably give you a little recap of the story so far. Back in the spring, C put up three bird boxes. We haven't really had any kind of bird nesting experience before; the year we had one box up nothing happened at all. So this year we were thrilled to see a pair of blue tits nesting in our original box, they worked at a heck of a pace to prepare the nest for new arrivals. We thought they may have vacated after a while but later we noticed the furious rate of flying to and fro of the parents.
The second nest box beside the first saw virtually no action at all; only a couple of birds pecking at the hole but none actually making it inside. The third box was tucked away out of eye shot and so it was only but fluke timing that I saw a little bird flying into the box on day. Our original diagnosis was that it was a second pair of blue tits was incorrect; after careful observation we decided they were great tits. A particularly active pair.
Then we discovered a beautiful little nest built in the fork of branches in our photinia red robin bush. It was something amazing to see and after carefully scrutinising the little beauty that flew back and forth to the little home we settled on considering it a chaffinch. That was quite a while ago. Quite by chance the other week we noticed a bird had returned to the nest, unsure whether it's the same bird or another, but still a chaffinch.
The incident occurred one evening at dinner time when we noticed the absence of Lincoln. Turns out he was in the garden, peering excitedly into the euonymous bush. The bush rustled a little and he jumped and softly woofed in response. I assumed it was a frog as they frequently take refuge in our garden, despite the obvious lack of pond. Lincoln was reluctant to leave the bush and I had to insist he came in (ok, C had to shout at him) and I thought nothing more of it.
After eating, C went into the garden, then a few minutes later I heard a tap at the window and saw him holding a little chick!
The little bundle of fluff had taken a tumble out of the nest and wandered into the undergrowth. I was grateful that Lincoln hadn't got as far as eating it, but concerned that the poor little guy was in danger of starving or getting eating by something else. I couldn't help but take a couple of pictures as C was holding the chick so gently. C put the chick back in the nest. It's better than chancing it on the ground and at least it had a hope of being cared for by it's parents. Two days later C found it on the floor again, so returned it to the nest but the day after that we were sad to discover it looked like the chick didn't make it.
As C put the little bundle back in the nest on the first occasion, it opened it's mouth to be fed and it looked so sweet.
It was an experience, anyway.