A Short Story by Avril Dalton

During the recent very cold weather I was on holiday in Bourton-on-the-Water, quite a busy little town. Late one afternoon I was browsing near the door of a busy newsagent when a movement caught my eye. To my astonishment in walked a gold crest. Its feathers were all puffed out but it didn’t appear injured or concussed. I was concerned that it would be trod on and shoed it gently outside whereupon it headed for a dark corner, making no attempt to fly. I picked it up and held it up but though it flapped its wings again it did not fly. I soon had an audience of passers by most of who had never seen a gold crest before. Luckily I found a local lady who fed birds, including gold crests, in her garden. Hopefully it could feed up and recover. The incident reinforced for me how vulnerable such small birds are to adverse weather conditions; it was probably too weak to fly.

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