I have a canary. To be more precise, the neighbourhood has a canary.
Yesterday evening my cat was chattering at the window, I went to investigate, there on my back lawn was a little bronze bird nibbling the grass seeds. He looked cheekily at me when I opened the window and boldly continued to nibble heartily at the grass.
Seeing as my lawn needs mowing and I don’t think a canary is going to eat much anyway, I left him to his own devices.
We have a lot of crows in our area so, sad to say but I didn’t think he would last too long since he obviously slipped his aviary to flit about in the wilds of suburbia. He would have been far more likely to meet his demise quickly should I have brought him inside to meet my cat.
This morning though I was greeted by cheerful carolling coming from under a large leaf over shadowing my side fence. There is my little bronze blow in singing his tiny heart out. He, very sensibly, clams up instantly when a crow flies over but burst back forth into tune as soon as the coast is clear.
He is a cheerful addition to my life at this point, and should he mysteriously not appear one day I shall just happily assume that he has found his way back to his home aviary, not that dark and dreadful things have befallen him. I am grateful that he found the time to visit me and bring me the gift of his song.