“A goldfinch has just flown into the window,” Barbara tells me, “It’s lying there on the patio, its little beak trembling.”
I go out, prepared for the worst. It’s a juvenile, lying on its back, wings trembling, a startled expression in its eyes and, like Barbara said, its beak opening and closing, as if it’s gasping for breath. Ringers will keep a bird calm by consigning it to the darkness of a soft drawstring cloth bag. I would usually put a stunned bird in a cardboard box to recover but I haven’t got one to hand, so I pick it up and cup it in my hands.
I can feel its heart thumping. It begins to perk up. I part my fingers and it does seem to be sitting up and taking notice. It has a tiny mark on its head but no other sign of injury.
I take it down to the lawn by the bird feeder and gradually open my hands. It moves onto the grass then, after a second or two, it flies off, up over the hedge . . .
. . . and right into next door’s bedroom window!
Luckily this time it doesn’t stun itself and it sits on the windowsill as it recovers.