Yesterday evening, Mark rescued a baby bird from the evil clutches of the cat. The bird, hereafter known as Beaky, seemed, not unnaturally, to be in a state of shock and bleeding and we immediately thought she would cark it within the hour. I held her (I decided she was a girl) in my hands and sent Mark and Oliver out to forage for worms.
After a crash course in wild bird care on the old internet, I mashed up some Iams cat food (serves Tabba right I say) with water, tapped the side of Beaky's box whereupon she immediately opened up and tweeted for food. I shovelled it in with the aid of a lolly stick and when she was full, she shut her beak, did a poo and went back to sleep. It was one of the most moving experiences of my life. I then set my alarm and fed her hourly throughout the night. I don't think I even found feeding Oliver as a baby as draining. 
Mark now wants to keep her. I have to admit, she is quite endearing - she is much stronger today and straining to be picked up and held. The evil she-cat Tabba has now evidently eaten the two remaining chicks and the parent birds are outside calling for their dead babies...tis quite heartbreaking.
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