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Some rotten git had destroyed the nest. Only one chick survived. I cradled him all the way home. Mum made up a 'nest' in a shoebox and I went out digging for worms.
'He don't want worms just yet' my mum said and she brought a bowl of bread soaked in warm milk.
That's how Sammy the Song Trush came to stay.
As he grew older he began to hop around the house. My brother would lay on the floor with a Pot Noodle and Sammy would perch on the rim and pick out the noodles. We all found this hilarious, even more so when Sammy turned and plopped into the pot. My brother wasn't amused.
As with all things, times changed and we knew Sammy had to go back into the wild. We ringed him with a bright red clasp and one day he was gone.
Yet I fancied that one summer, years later I spied him on top of the apple tree singing away. I smiled and waved and then he was gone again