Buster

Buster - the tale of a blue tit  

Meet Buster. He's small, he's blue, and he's very, very hungry. He's also a bit of a hero, although he doesn't know it yet. Follow his adventures in the big, scary world of People as he learns the ways of the garden bird and survival in a human world. Will he ever find a safe, comfortable Garden to call his own? 

Part 1 - Buster's new home

Chapter 1

‘Brrr!’ thought Buster as he hunkered on his perch, fluffing out his feathers to help him keep warm. ‘I wish I had longer wings so I could fly away south for the winter.’

The snow had begun to fall earlier that day, and Buster watched as all the wood was covered in a soft blanket. He had lived in his small copse since he was hatched - in a hollow tree not far from where he was perched - and he knew it very well. He had reached the very grown-up age of nine months old without going more than a few wing beats away.

Buster came from a relatively small family - in blue tit society at least - of five brothers and two sisters.  Every one of them, and both of his parents, had long since flown on to pastures new, but Buster had stayed behind. He loved his little woodland and had hoped to stay as long as he could.

But as the autumn wore on and winter began to arrive, food became harder to find amongst the bare trees and falling leaves. Insects started to hide away and the hedgerows were quickly stripped of fruits. Many of the other birds began to whisper amongst themselves of the fabled lands where food never ran out. 

‘I saw it once,’ said an elderly thrush as eager youngsters gathered around him. ‘It’s a place where People live in their giant dens and Burtable trees grow in abundance. They say the fruit they bear never runs out, as long as a Person is nearby.’

An excited murmur spread among the audience, with a few shouts of ‘where is this place?’ and ‘my tummy hurts!’ scattered in the noise.

‘We’re going to go and find this place,’ chirped a coal tit on the branch next to Buster. ‘Why don’t you come with us?’

Buster was unsure. ‘Everyone knows that the best insects are out in the countryside,’ he said with a worried look at his home. He didn’t want to leave, but he didn’t want to stay hungry either.

‘You won’t miss it too much,’ the elderly thrush put in. ‘Not when you’ve tasted your first peanut!’

And so it was that the Buster left his home, travelling with a flock of other small birds in the direction of the legendary lands of the People. It was a long and tiring journey, but with a confident group of thrushes to lead them, they soon approached the borders of the unknown lands.

Chapter 2

‘This is it!’ announced the song thrush at the front. ‘Behold - the Gardens…’

Buster looked out cautiously from the hedgerow the flock had settled in, and saw before him many large and strange structures, neatly lined up in a row. Behind them were enclosed spaces with many unusual plants in them, the grass cropped short as if eaten by a hundred rabbits.

And there were birds here too. Thousands of birds, many of types that Buster had never met before. He could see and hear starlings and sparrows, chaffinches and goldfinches, great tits, nuthatches and woodpeckers. There were even other blue tits here.

‘Hooray!’ cheered some of the smaller birds at the back of the flock, exhausted from their journey. ‘Let’s find something to eat!’

The birds fluttered down to the nearest Garden, Buster following as best as he could. The noise and commotion was quite frightening, and he had to flit about through the bushes to keep out of everyone’s way.

There were swarms of birds on one particular tree near the large, towering structure that loomed over the Garden. Everyone was flapping and squawking excitedly around it, and Buster wondered if this was what they had come in search of.

‘That is a Burtable tree,’ said a dunnock that settled beside Buster in his shrub. ‘One of the best trees there is to forage around! I like to wait underneath while the other birds fight over the fruits, and pick up the crumbs they drop. I don’t like getting into squabbles!’

‘But how will I get to it?’ asked Buster with dismay, watching the rowdy crowd. ‘I’m not a dunnock, and I don’t feed on the ground!’ He watched as a coal tit, trying to land on the food swinging from the Burtable tree, was chased away by a great tit, then pecked at by a starling as it passed.

‘I am only a small bird,’ he thought, and hung his head sadly.

‘Don’t worry, they will be finished soon,’ the dunnock said. ‘You can have a look when they’re full up and gone.’ With that the dunnock hopped down onto the ground and pottered off under the bushes, searching for fallen morsels.

Buster waited patiently for a long time as bird after bird visited the Burtable tree. After a while, the snow had covered every surface, and Buster could no longer see the grass or the tops of the trees, and the other birds began to lose interest in the food. Looking full and fat, the last of the starlings fluttered off, and Buster could at last take a closer look at the fabled tree.

He took a deep breath and delicately flitted to it, perching on the casing that seemed to house the peanut food that everyone enjoyed. When he peered inside, he found that the casing was empty, apart from a few red skins and crumbs.

‘They’ve eaten everything!’ he cried, and felt tears begin to bubble up. His tummy rumbled, and he began to feel very cold. ‘What will I do now?’

Chapter 3.

'Psst', a little voice called from the bushes. 'This way!'

The dunnock waved a wing and beckoned Buster to follow. Wiping his eyes, he flew down to a low bush and wormed his way inside it, coming up against a tall, flat barrier where the dunnock was waiting.

'Go through this hole in the fence,' the dunnock said, pointing to a broken piece of the barrier. 'They say that Burtable trees grow best in places where People tend them. This next Garden is a good place to go.'

The dunnock explained the odd habits of People, and the dens they lived in. During the winter, he said, the People that tend this food sometimes get sleepy and forgetful, and the Burtable trees begin to die. They stop producing Feeder Fruits, and the birds become very hungry. It was said that People sometimes went into hibernation when it was cold and didn't like to emerge from their cosy dens. They especially seemed to dislike getting wet, and would not come out in the rain. 'Don't forget', the old birds would say to their young ones, 'the People are not as lucky as us. They don't have nice soft feathers that are waterproof and warm. Many parts of their bodies are completely naked like newly hatched chicks! They are very delicate creatures that can only come out for short amounts of time. That's why they stay hidden in their dens all the time.'

Feeder Fruits seemed to stop growing whenever this happened, so it was decided by the birds that the two events were connected. Whenever one of the People was spotted snuffling around in their Garden, you could be sure that a bird would soon come out to take a look, just in case.

'This Garden is the terrirtory of a very active Person,' the dunnock finished, peering with wonder through the small gap. 'It comes out all the time and brings the Burtable tree back to life, so if you stick around, you might get lucky!'  

Buster thanked the kind dunnock for its advice and hopped through the hole in the fence. 'Good luck!' it called as it flew away, and Buster was alone once again. He found a comfy perch on a pretend mushroom - it was multi-coloured and had a small man with a fishing rod crouched underneath it - and waited.

It didn't take long before a Person did indeed emerge from the den at the end of the Garden. It began shuffling clumsily around the Burtable tree. This was the first Person Buster had ever seen, and he thought it looked rather funny. The old birds were right - People were a bit ugly! This one was not very brightly coloured at all and was wrapped up in strange, bulky clothing. Buster suspected it was perhaps ashamed of its bare patches and was trying to disguise them.

The Person seemed to notice Buster where he sat and made an odd cooing noise. Buster thought it sounded friendly, but didn't move any closer in case he frightened it away. That was the rule - you should never get too close to a wild Person because they were easily disturbed, and not as intelligent as birds.

After making a bit of a mess and spilling food all over the floor, the Person finally retreated back into its den, rubbing its stubby winglets together to keep itself warm. Buster decided it was safe to get closer and moved in to investigate.

The smells coming from the Burtable were wonderful. It was clearly very healthy and producing lots of fruit. His mouth began to water.

First of all, Buster pecked cautiously at some large lumps of whiteness that had been scattered under the shelter of the roof. He didn't like them very much. He moved on to a strange hanging device with small holes in it and managed to pull some seeds out. These he found quite tasty, but they didn't fill him up. It was only when he moved to the other side of the Burtable that he found what he was looking for, and he ate and ate and ate until he was nearly bursting.

Buster was glad he had left his little wood after all and seearched for the fabled Garden treasures. What he had found had been worth the effort. Buster had discovered a love for peanuts!!   

Part 2 - A predator on the prowl

Chapter 1

The days and weeks went by in a blur of snows, frost and misty drizzle. The birds of the Garden of the friendly Person never went hungry, and the Burtable tree was always full of food. Buster made many new pals among the feathered residents and soon became settled in his new home.

'I think I'll stay here,' he said to the helpful dunnock one day, who often came back to visit his tiny blue friend. 'I'd better not eat too many peanuts though - I'm getting a bit fat!'

Indeed, it almost seemed that the friendly Person who tended the Burtable was a little too generous, as the peanuts were always plentiful. Many of the starlings, sparrows and pigeons that lived nearby had become rather plump and lazy, spending all day stuffing themselves with the delicious treats and then sitting about on the fence.

Buster watched as a gang of pigeons flopped clumsily onto their favourite perch at the end of the Garden, their huge, fat bodies hardly able to balance on the flimsy branches of their tree. They huffed and puffed and slouched down heavily, out of breath after the short flight from the Garden next door.

'Phew, that was tiring!' one of them remarked, wiping a wing tip across his brow. 'Time for a quick snack to keep me going.'

'Splendid idea, old chap,' said his companion, eying up the Burtable greedily. 'I'm famished. I've touched barely a scrap of food all day, you know - I only had three breakfasts this morning.'

Lifting their stubby pigeon feet in their usual waddling fashion, the pigeons blundered their way down from their tree and along the fence, making their way slowly and ungracefully towards the Burtable. They were so heavy that their feet made little thudding sounds as they walked and the fence panels trembled under their weight.

'They'll gobble up everything,' the dunnock whispered to Buster, watching their journey and shaking his head.

'I'm surprised they can think of eating at all after the big pile of white offerings they pecked up this morning,' answered Buster. The other birds had often told him the name of the white stuff the Person sometimes threw out, but he found it difficult to remember the name. He didn't like it much anyway, and he prefered not to eat on the ground.

The pigeons, on the other hand, loved to eat up food that had dropped to the floor underneath the Burtable. They were too big to hang delicately from the peanut feeder like Buster and the other birds, which should have stopped them from eating them up. But these pigeons were crafty.

All small birds know that big birds (like pigeons) are not very clever, and all big birds know that small birds (like blue tits) are stupid. But intelligence wasn't what these pigeons needed to get their prize - they used brute force to knock food from the hanging feeders on the Burtable and then eat from the floor at their leisure. They often then bullied the smaller birds and wouldn't let them share.

'Chocks away, chaps,' the biggest pigeon called, and with an effort, launched himself up and at the peanuts. With a crash, the peanut feeder came tumbling to the floor, scattering its contents across the lawn. The other pigeons cheered and descended greedlily on the goodies.

'Can we have some?' Buster asked timidly, fluttering to the bushes near the squabbling group.

The pigeons laughed. 'Get lost, tiny,' they called. 'Yeah,' said another, 'find your own!'

Buster sighed and retreated back to his perch, settling next to his dunnock friend who stuck its tongue out at the pigeons. 'They're mean,' Buster said, and the dunnock agreed.

Little did the pigeons know, but they were not in fact the biggest birds in the Garden. All the fuss and commotion that the busy Garden attracted had caught the attention of another bird - one who knew to look for Gardens with healthy Burtable trees and lots of grateful diners around it.

The larger bird watched the pigeon flock settle from its viewpoint high on the roof of the Person's den. Its glowing orange eyes spyed all the movement down below as the feeding prey birds pecked about, unaware of their danger. This was just how it liked it. The perfect ambush. The sparrowhawk would eat well today...   

Chapter 2.

*BELCH*

'Excuse you!' cried a fat pigeon, and the entire flock erupted into raucous laughter.

'You're disgusting!' added another, to which the belching pigeon bowed and thanked him with a smirk. Coming to the end of their glutonous meal, many of the pigeons began to slump and rub their distended bellies, an uncomfortable but pleased look on their faces. Barely a scrap of food remained for any of the other Garden birds to eat, and a few of the youngest sparrows began to cry.

'A good day's work, that's for sure', said the pigeon leader as he checked the fallen Feeder for the last crumbs of peanut. 'I won't be able to fly properly again for at least a week'.

'What good news,' came a menacing voice from high above the Garden, and all heads turned to gaze with horror at the frightening shape silhouetted against the afternoon sky.

There, sat high on the roof, was the enemy that all Garden birds feared more than any other. This was no slow, clumsy, ground-dwelling cat. It was a sparrowhawk - a big one - the stuff of all bad bird dreams and scary tales. If there was one story young chicks knew better than any other, it was the warning tale mothers would tell of the winged predator that snatched naughty youngsters from the sky to gobble them up if ever they disobeyed their parents.

The residents of the Garden had almost forgotten their danger. It had been many a year since the last sparrowhawk was seen in these parts, and they had become almost as legendary as dragons or unicorns. Little did they know that they had started to return, and that their peaceful Garden home was prime territory for an aerial ambush predator.

Terrified squeals and shouts came up from all the small birds in the Garden, and the mouths of the pigeons hung open with shock. Small pieces of food dribbled from their beaks, and some gulped with fear.

'It's an eagle!'

'A dragon!'

'It's come to eat us all!'

Panic spread, and everyone tried to flutter for cover or escape the garden at once. The pigeons, too full and fat to move very fast, bumped into each other and fell over in their haste to get out of the open. 

'What a shame no one wants to stay for a chat', chuckled the sparrowhawk to herself, opening her wings for a stretch. With one last smile at the chaos below her, she lifted her deadly talons and swooped down over her prey. 

Chapter 3.

'Fly, Buster! Fly away!'

The dunnock gave Buster one last urgent push before diving into the shrubbery at the back of the Garden, a little trail of feathers in its wake.

But Buster found he couldn't move - he was so frightened! His little blue tit legs began to tremble, and his tiny heartbeat sped up in fear.

Across the other side of the Garden, most of the birds had managed to scram, and only a few of the fattest pigeons were trapped against the fence. With a horrible swooping sound, the sparrowhawk dived at the nearest pigeon as it waddled akwardly across the lawn. It couldn't pick up enough speed, and with a loud thwap! the sparrowhawk knocked him over. 

'Chubby!' his friends called in alarm.

The sparrowhawk made a full circle, laughing nastily as Chubby struggled to his feet again. He tried to run again, but this time the sparrowhawk landed neatly on top of him, pinning him flat on his back.

'Be gone, foul monster!' Chubby gasped, trying to wriggle free of the sparrowhawk's clutches.

The sparrowhawk smiled and squeezed him a little tighter. 'I'm going to eat you,' she told him, 'and there's nothing you can do about it.'

'Help me, friends!' Chubby called to the other pigeons, but they remained cowering against the fence on the other side of the Garden and would not come any closer.

'It looks as though you're doomed,' the sparrowhawk said, and plucked a single feather from Chubby's belly.

'Ouch! That hurt!'

'You leave him alone you big, ugly bully!' Came a brave little voice, and all heads turned towards the tiny blue creature jumping up and down on his perch.

'Buster!' hissed the dunnock from the safety of the bushes. 'What are you doing? Stay out of it!'

'Ugly?' growled the sparrowhawk, turning her attention to the disrespectful morsel interrupting her meal. 'How dare you talk to me that way! Don't you know who I am? I eat snacks like you for breakfast.'

Chubby looked around for a chance of escape, relieved to feel the predator's grip on him loosening. 'This is my chance', he thought to himself. 'Do something while she's distracted!' With one last deep breath, he heaved his head forward and sank his beak deep into the sparrowhawk's toe.

'AHHH!' yelped the sparrowhawk, hopping back from the sharp bite and shaking her foot in the air.

'Hooray!' cheered Buster with a laugh.

Chubby made a break for it and used all his strength to flap towards freedom. 'I'm going to make it!' he thought with triumph, before flying headfirst into the fence. He fell to the ground with his tongue lolling out, his little feet stuck up in the air.

'I'll deal with you in a minute,' the sparrowhawk snarled at him, then swung back to glare at Buster.

'Uh oh,' Buster said. He gulped.

With a roar-like cry, the terrifying sparrowhawk launched herself towards Buster, snapping her pointed beak in anger. Buster dived out of the way just in time and darted past the pigeons.

'Hide, Buster!' the dunnock called in panic, 'You'll never out-fly a sparrowhawk! She'll catch you before you make it into the sky!'

An almost comical chase began around the Garden as Buster tried desperately to dodge the sparrowhawk's lunges. He knew the dunnock was right - he couldn't pick up enough speed to fly upwards. That was what the sparrowhawk wanted him to do. But he didn't have time to hide either. She would see where he went and come in after him. The bushes weren't thick or spikey enough to protect him. What was he going to do? The sparrowhawk was getting angrier by the second, and Buster was getting tired.

Just as he thought his little wings would give up on him, an idea popped into his head.

He thought back to his first days in the Garden, and how new and confusing things had been at first. Just behind the Burtable tree, between it and the Person's den, was a strange natural phenomenon that none of the birds could ever quite explain. A magical shield existed that the Person liked to hide behind. It was invisible, but it prevented birds from getting close to the Person and scaring it away. Buster had hurt his head on it quite badly the first time he tried to follow the Person towards its den. 'That'll teach you for trying to get too close,' the other birds had said. 'You know they don't like it'.

Buster was pretty sure the sparrowhawk had never been to this Garden before and wouldn't know the danger. It could be his only chance.

With a final effort, Buster heaved himself into position in front of the magical shield, settling on the edge of a potted plant. He panted where he sat, his wings hanging down limply. 'Please don't eat me,' he whimpered at last.

The sparrowhawk settled on the edge of the fence just a few feet away from where Buster was sitting. She looked a bit our of breath and very, very annoyed. 'I've got you now,' she said dangerously, narrowing her eyes with menace. 'Prepare to be eaten!'

Up she leapt, gaining height, before plummeting down on Buster at full speed. The air whistled across her folded back wings and she stretched out her talons to snatch him. Buster could see his reflection in her eyes just before she reached him.

It was at that moment that Buster made his move. With a delicate hop, he jumped down behind the plant pot and covered his head with his wings.

DONK!!!   

A shower of feathers rained down over Buster and almost buried him, and as the the vibrations in his ears came to a stop, he heard tentative cheering and wing flapping from around the Garden. He scrambled back up onto his pot and looked around. His bird friends had started to return and were poking their heads over the fences, peering down at what had happened.

'Well done, Buster!' some of them shouted. 'You're a hero!'

The sparrowhawk lay in an undignified heap on the floor, her eyes spinning in her head. A big sparrowhawk-shaped splat was outlined on the mysterious, invisible barrier.

There was a sudden commotion from inside the den, and the Person emerged in a fluster of worried noises. Buster wondered why it didn't seem afraid. Didn't it know that sparrowhawks were dangerous? After several minutes of worried shuffling, the Person went back into its den and emerged again with a cardboard box, lifting the sparrowhawk into it.

'It's going to cook me!' the sparrowhawk could be heard saying just before the lid was closed. The Person took the sparrowhawk away, and the rumours about its fate continued for many years afterwards. Some told of a wonderful place that People took injured birds to, whilst others maintained the fondness People had for their dogs, and their need to find food for them regularly.

A sparrowhawk was not seen in that Garden again for generations, and neither was a pigeon. The chunky bullies stayed away from the Garden in fear of another attack, and the smaller birds didn't mind one bit.

Best of all, Buster was hailed as a hero, and was never called 'tiny' again. The other birds always made sure to save food for him at meal times, and no one minded sharing.  

Part 3: New neighbours

Chapter 1.

The summer was warm and sunny, and the Garden grew green and fragrant. Flowers blossomed, the plants grew tall and the birds were able to enjoy the good life. Food was plentiful and insects abundant, and a good crop of juicy, nutritious caterpillars emerged, ready to feed hungry new mouths.

Many of the local bird couples had raised new families nearby, and the Garden was often full of youngsters freshly fledged from their nests. Buster quite liked having the clumsy babies around. They made him feel a bit more grown-up. And he wasn't the new kid anymore! 

The resident robin pair were old hands when it came to raising chicks. They had already fledged their first brood earlier that month and rumour had it that they were thinking of going for seconds.

'It really is quite scandalous,' some of the one-brood birds would say to each other. 'More than one brood in a season? For a small bird? It's just not the done thing! That's as bad as a common pigeon.'

Everybody knew that the great tits (who were often the first to say such things) were terribly jealous types. Most simply ignored their disapproval. It was amusing to note that they were careful never to raise their objections when the local blackbirds were around.

'I do love children,' the mother robin had told Buster one day as they chatted politely over lunch. 'My beautiful little teapot home is perfect for raising a familiy, and my husband is a very attentive father, so we thought we'd try for another nest. I've just got a bit of spring cleaning to do first!'

The little teapot nest was well known to the birds as the traditional childhood home of the robin familiy. The mother robin had inherited it from her parents, and one day she hoped to leave it to one of her own offspring. She had nested there every year and successfully fledged several broods from it. It was a cosy little home, nestled safely in some ivy along one of the Garden's fences. The Person had put it there many years ago in the hope that a bird would adopt it, and the robins had been the first to find it.

'How are you going to clean it?' Buster asked the mother robin with interest. 'Aren't you just going to re-use your old nest?'

'Goodness no!' the robin said with a gentle smile, 'I will build a whole new nest after I've taken out the old one. It will be weaved with fresh bedding and lined with soft new down. Only the best for my babies!'

And so the mother robin busied herself, removing the old nest and collecting up new building materials to stuff the little teapot full. After a few days of frenzied activity, the new nest was almost complete, and on the morning of the last day, the birds woke with excitement to witness the unveiling of the new nest.

The mother robin appeared in front of the gathering crowd, her beak full of collected feathers and animal hair.

'Now for the finishing touches,' she mumbled through a mouthful of fluff. 'Come and see the new nest!'

She flew nimbly up to the teapot's entrance, closely followed by a group of friends eager to take a look inside. She popped through and began to lay the last bit of lining into the nest.

Suddenly she froze, her head slowly turning to look at the ceiling of the pot. The group of onlookers followed her gaze, and there was a frightened gasp from the audience.

There, hunkered together along the ceiling of the teapot, was an ugly group of crumpled creatures, their beady eyes gazing down at the birds below.

The mother robin squeaked with horror. A mad scramble followed as everyone tried to get away at once. Some of the birds at the entrance fell back with surprise, and the robin shot out of the teapot in a blur.

'My beautiful home!' she could be heard crying as she darted away. 'It's been stolen!'       

Chapter 2.

It took a good few minutes for anyone to summon the courage to emerge from their hiding places. The great tit youngsters peered timidly round the side of the Garden Gnome, the blackbirds parted the leaves of the bush they were crouching in, and the greenfinches peeked over the top of a tub of flowers.

Not a word was spoken by anyone, and nothing else came out of the teapot.

Buster soon found himself the center of attention as more and more birds joined him in his tree.

'Psst,' one of the chaffinches whispered to him. 'Are you going to go in there or what?'

'Yeah,' some of the other birds joined in. 'You're brave, Buster. Go and find out what's going on. Save us from the monsters!'

'Monsters?!' thought Buster to himself with a little shiver of fear. 'Why do I have to go?'

The bird crowd was beginning to get more excited at this suggestion and began urging Buster to volunteer for the mission. He had saved them all from the sparrowhawk after all, and everybody knew he was a brave and fearless warrior. Buster had almost decided to fly away and hide, when a snuffly little sob caught his attention. The mother robin had joined the group and was wiping her eyes with her wing.

'What will I do? What will I do?' she blubbered pitifully, hanging her head in sorrow. 'My beautiful little nest will be gone forever and I will be homeless. Where will I lay my eggs now?'

'It's alright,' little Buster said, mustering his courage at last. 'I'll help you get your nest back. I'm sure they're not really monsters and that they'll leave if we ask nicely. You just wait here and I'll go and have a look.'

Putting on his best brave face, Buster strutted out to the end of the branch. He took a deep breath, looking back at the others uncertainly.

'You can do it, Buster!'

'Go get 'em!'

'We're right behind you - don't worry!'

With a quick prayer that he wouldn't be eaten, Buster launched himself from the tree and fluttered to the teapot. His friends moved to the end of the branch for a better look, but didn't fly any closer. They made sure they had plenty of space to get away when the monsters came out to eat their blue tit hero.

At the entrance of the teapot, all was dark and silent. Buster couldn't see inside without getting much, much closer, and he wasn't sure he wanted to stick his head inside just yet. With what he thought was a brave sounding voice, he cleared his throat and said 'Um, e-excuse me. Monsters? Would you come out please?'

There was no reply.  Buster looked back at the others, and they motioned to him to continue by nodding urgently. He tried again.

'Um, I'm sorry to disturb you, b-but, well, this nest is already taken and the robin would very much like it back. Are you lost?'

Buster held his breath and tried to listen to what was happening inside. He thought he heard some shuffling, and what sounded like a yawn. Then an angry sounding mumbling started, and before he knew what had happened, a gruesome claw had reached out, grabbed him, and pulled him into the teapot.

'Eep!' Buster squeaked.

'Stop your noise making!' said a disgruntled voice from the back of the teapot. 'Don't you know we're trying to get some shut-eye?'

'W-who are you?' gasped Buster as he peered at the five monsters huddled together along the ceiling. 'And why are you naked? Are you sick?'

Buster tried very hard not to stare, but he was horrified to see that there was obviously something very wrong with these creatures. They looked a little bit like birds with two legs and two wings, but they were hanging upside down, perhaps by magic, and had no feathers at all on their bodies. Their little eyes were squinting against the light coming in from the entrance of the teapot, and their faces were all flattened like they'd flown into something. Maybe they'd had a horrible accident or were outcasts from their flock. They almost looked like flying mice!  

One of the creatures rolled its eyes and sighed dramatically while the others frowned down at him.

'You idiot,' the creature said with annoyance. 'We're not sick, we're not lost and we're not monsters. Don't you know a bat when you see one?'

Chapter 3.

There was a long pause as Buster tried to think of something to say. He'd never heard of a 'bat' before, but didn't want to seem stupid in front of the new folk. He decided that the only way to deal with these nest-stealers was to pretend to be very important and unafraid. He shouldn't be taking any nonsense from animals that weren't even birds.

'Well,' he said, putting his little wing tips firmly on his hips. 'I don't care what you are. You can't just come barging in here, taking up any space you like. We look after each other in this Garden. I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Right now. Please.' He pointed forceably to the entrance of the teapot to indicate his seriousness and tapped his foot impatiently. That ought to show them.

The bats followed his pointed wing, looked at the teapot's entrance, then looked back at Buster. Then they began to laugh.

'That's so funny!' the one at the back giggled. 'What's he going to do? Peck us?!'

Little tears started to roll down their faces as they scrunched up with laughter, and their bodies rippled with mirth. One lost concentration and nearly fell from the ceiling, producing another choking burst of giggles from his friends. Buster felt his face growing warm with embarrassment and had to fight the urge to fly away.

The bat nearest to Buster began to calm down and wiped the moisture from her face with her single claw.

'You'll have to excuse them,' she said to Buster with something of an apology in her voice. 'It's been a long night, and we're all a bit tired. They're always in a bad mood in the morning.'

'Hey!'

'What's your name?' Buster asked the bat, hoping to start again from a better foot. After covering a yawn with her wing, the bat replied 'Pippa'.

'Nice to meet you, Pippa. My name is Buster and I'm a bird.'

'Duh,' interrupted one of the other bats, and Pippa elbowed him to shush him.

'Well, it's just that, um, this is a bird's nest. For bird babies. And there's not enough room in here for you as well. The mother robin has worked very hard to build this for her eggs and she won't have time to find a new home. Aren't there any other roosting places you could use? You must have come from one nearby. Can't you go back?'

The giggling died down completely at that point, and the bats looked at each other sadly. One hid his face behind his wings with sorrow, and another comforted him with a little hug.

'We don't like to talk about it,' Pippa said sadly. 'It's not a very happy story. We lost our roost and have nowhere to go. We've been looking for somewhere safe to call home for a long time, but it's difficult to fit in when you look like we do. You're not the first animal to call us monsters.'

The youngest bat stuck his tongue out at Buster at this point, and he suddenly felt very, very guilty.

'We're not bad really,' Pippa continued, 'and we don't ask for much. Just a little nook or cranny to call our own and enough insects to feed our families. Don't let the teeth fool you - we don't eat birds!'

Buster was relieved to hear this, although he wasn't sure the others would be keen to share their Garden with more insect-eaters. He'd have to work that out later.

'What happened?' he asked, curious to know why the bats had been forced to leave their roost. The group sighed, but Pippa agreed to tell him the story.

'We used to live with People, safe under the roof of their warm, cosy den. There were lots of little holes we could squeeze into. They opened up into a large, dark cave above the den. It had lots of the People's stores in it - perhaps food for the winter - but they hardly ever came up there and never disturbed us. It was quiet and safe from predators, and the lights the People produced attracted lots of juicy insects for us to eat. It was the perfect life.

But one day, the People left and never came back. We're not sure what happened to them, but for a long time the den was cold and empty. Then some new People came, and we hoped things would go back to the way they were before. But they got worse. The new People brought light to the cave and took away all the stores. They began to smear the walls with foul smelling, bright coloured liquid and repaired all the broken bits. Then they blocked up our entrance holes and we couldn't get in anymore! We searched for hours and hours, but couldn't find another way in. We slept in a nearby tree that day and nearly got eaten by a cat. We knew we couldn't stay there, and we've been looking for another roost ever since.'

Buster was horrified to hear this story and couldn't imagine his own kind, innocent Person doing this sort of thing. Perhaps there were helpful People and unhelpful People out there, just like birds. He knew that he couldn't turn the bats away again after everything that had happened, and he felt sure the other birds would want to help too.

'This Garden and its den is looked after by a very kind Person, and I'm sure you'll be able to stay. If I promise to help you find another warm, cosy roost, will you let the robin have her nest back? You don't really want to stay cramped in here anyway, do you? The heated parts of the Person's den would be much more comfortable.'

The bats considered this and looked around the teapot doubtfully.

'Well, I suppose it is a bit small in here,' Pippa admitted reluctantly.

'And it smells like bird,' added one of the others.

'We could use a bit more warmth,' said a third bat.

'And I can't hear myself think with all that gibbery bird noise going on outside,' said the grumpiest of all.

'Alright,' said Pippa finally. 'You've got a deal. You help find a safe new roost and we'll leave this teapot roost.'

'Yay!' cried Buster with excitement, forgetting for a moment that he was supposed to be acting grown-up. 'Let's go then - there's no time to lose! And it's a lovely day, with lots of flies in the air and peanuts on the Burtable tree. Fancy a quick snack before we begin?'

'We eat moths, dummy,' the grumpy bat growled before snuggling down to go back to sleep. 'And besides, WE'RE NOCTURNAL!' 

Chapter 4.

Buster was snuggled warmly in his feathers, his clever, sturdy legs locked securely onto his favourite sleeping branch. He let out a tiny little yawn and buried his beak deeper into the fluffy down, a sigh of contentment escaping. It had been a tiring day, and he welcomed sleep gratefully.

The late summer evening deepened into darkness and the local tawny owls began their mournful hooting in the distance. The night was warm and pleasant, and not a breath of wind stirred the trees. Buster drifted off quickly, a dream of peanuts and caterpillars keeping him company. He did not stir when something small, dark and silent streaked past the tree behind him.

The moon began to dim as a blanket of cloud passed overhead, and a quick chill made Buster shiver suddenly. He emerged half way from sleep and peered around in confusion, wondering what could have woken him up. The air felt warm once again and he convinced himself it had only been a dream. He was about to drop off again when a wrinkly face dropped down in front of him, hanging upside down from the branch above.

'Wakey wakey!'

'AHH!' squealed Buster, falling backwards off his perch. He landed with an 'omf' on the lawn below, blinking up stupidly at the giggling bats now clinging to his tree.

'Silly bird!' one of them laughed, 'It's only us! We've come to start our search!'

Buster picked himself up from the floor and dusted himself down with a growl. He didn't like being frightened like that, and he didn't like being teased. He decided that now it was his turn to be grumpy but tried not to be rude as he fluttered back up towards them.

'It's a bit late for me,' Buster told them. 'You may be nocturnal but I'm not. I waited for you to get out of bed for hours and thought you'd changed your mind. I went to bed in the end!'

'We're sorry,' Pippa said with real apology, scrambling to sit next to her new friend. 'We overslept a bit, but we're ready to start looking now. And you did promise you'd help us. We'll listen really carefully and do whatever you say - honest!'

Buster eyed the group catiously, not quite trusting the still snickering bunch as they grinned and bounced around him. They had certainly perked up since earlier, and the younger bats seemed barely able to contain their energy. Buster didn't have the patience to put up with more naughty behaviour, and the thought of changing his mind became very attractive.

Then he looked round at Pippa's eager face and saw the real hope there. She was only a young bat herself, but she seemed to have taken on responsibility for looking after the rowdy bunch of youngsters. She wanted to find a safe place for them and knew that her only chance lay with this odd, tiny blue bird.

'Alright,' Buster said eventually, shaking himself in preparation for the long night ahead. 'We'll go this way first.'

'Yay!' a couple of the small bats chimed. They began to swing about in the branches of the tree, singing a silly song to each other and laughing mischievously. 

'But we have to be quiet!' Buster hissed in a hushed tone, trying to get through to the naughty youngsters. The young bats ignored him and began swooping about round the tree, chasing each other before flitting off in different directions. Buster shook his head tiredly and wondered if he would ever have children of his own. The grumpy bat made a bored sound on a branch some distance away, and Pippa looked at Buster worriedly.

'They'll be good, I know they will,' she said in a placating tone, hoping to keep Buster on their side. She tugged at his wing gently, encouraging him to begin searching with her.

'If we wake everyone up, they'll be very angry,' Buster told her with his serious voice. Pippa ducked her head with apology and nodded vigourously.

'I know, I know. We'll go quietly. We won't disturb the sleepers. We can be silent when we need to be.'

With that assurance Buster agreed to go and they moved away to begin their search. The sounds of playfighting died down in the distance as the young bats rejoined the group, and even the grumpy bat came along to help. This time when Buster bumped straight into a wall, no one said a word. 

Next month: Chapter 5 - Buster puts his plan in action.

Can't wait to find out more? Why not sign up to our e-newsletter and get the next part of the story as soon as it comes out.

Click here to join the e-newsletter