Ever heard a blackbird QUACK?

Round trip.
1. Birds' Bistro.
2. Greystone House for a brew, and catch up on the crack with Henry.
3. Brass's to collect the eggs.
As we went in, there was a marmalade cat, looking excessively pregnant and demanding a bit of petting en route.

As we left, we again made a slight fuss of Her Mogginess.

On the way up to the car we spotted a male "Blacky" shouting from a telephone wire.
"QUACK! .... QUACK!! ... " you get the picture. I'm not sure if he was quacking at us, the cat or the sprog perched and damp just below the hand-rail of the steps.

Behold the sprog.