Nordic invasion

Never had one of these as a garden visitor before, in either Tillicoultry or Argyll. He arrived three days ago and since then has been continually rousting every other bird in the garden. He is indiscriminate in his bullying, little dunnocks, finches, thrushes, blackbirds, all are sent scurrying away. He seems to do it for pure devilment, as they know better than to approach him or try to nick his apple.

He's a fieldfare, a migrant from scandinavia and very Viking in his habits, plundering, roistering and scaring the natives. I've decided to call him Thaw. So, when I shake my fist and scream, "Thaw, you effer," through the kitchen window, I accomplish two things. I'm scolding him plus giving the garden instructions.
I was blaming Thaw for all the apples disappearing. I seem to be going through three a day now but then I noticed him sulking in a corner.

At last, a native bird who wasn't scared of him. I put the apples out for blackbirds and I suppose this hoodie qualifies, he's a bird and he's black, though he seems to think I'm running a takeaway service.

I'm so pleased to see the song thrush, in fact, there are two visiting. They are usually far too shy to come to the feeders but for the last two weeks have been busy tucking in with the chaffinches and blackbirds.

I thought I'd lost the cat. I realised I'd had hours of peace, no one mithering on and on and on......... why can't you make it warmer outside........ why is the conservatory door closed........what do you mean it's too cold .........open it now........immediately.........jeez it's cold in there.....why have you got the conservatory door open.......don't you know old cats are susceptible to cold.........why hasn't any fresh food been put down in the last 15 minutes..... oh you have put something down.......what is this rubbish........are you a cat poisoner...... don't you know cats only eat strawberry yoghurt licked from a dessert spoon........what's that in the oven......hmmm fresh roasted chicken breast.........who said cats only ate strawberry yoghurt....are you mad.

Like I said, an unusual period of quiet aroused my suspicions. I thought she might have sneaked through to the bedrooms when I wasn't looking and was either curled up under my duvet, or expressing her disgust at the inclement weather with her signature activity. Luckily all was quiet and clean. Then I started to worry. People have fallen and frozen to death outside, she is an old cat and a bit wobbly on her legs, it is very icy and we'd had more snow. I had visions of a sad little pile of orange and white fur slowly stiffening by her favourite compost bin. Outside and up those icy, snowy steps I went. I searched the garden from top tier to bottom tier. No Smudge.

You're right. Of course, she hadn't stuck so much as a whisker outside. Instead she'd found a new bed, with extra insulation, in this old box.