Oh, little goldfinch
So sweet and so small
Why did you have to fly into our wall
and crash senseless to the ground?
Which was where you were found.
But now you rest in a grave dug by Paul
Remembered by all!
Ok, not very poetical, but hey, it's the best a bear can do!
Our baby goldfinch flew into the window and broke it's delicate little neck, poor thing. We had a service for it and buried it in the back garden.
Bill - don't listen to Hamish when he says he crunches little goldfinches as snacks. He prefers a kitkat or choccy biscuit, and is far too soft to catch and eat a lovely goldfinch. He enjoys watching the birds in the garden, but pretends he is this gruff, wild bear who eats the birds and squirrels. Yeh, in your dreams, Hamish - you're nothing but a big softy! And we love you for it, don't we Phoebe?
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