Sunshine Over Wildflower Cottage Read Free

fella. Viv sent a silent psychic message that Tink had nothing to worry about – she would be staying as far away from them as possible.
    They moved on. ‘In here is Beatrice, our eagle owl. Rescued from a wardrobe – I kid you not – where a stupid prat was keeping her as a pet.’ Geraldine shook her head in dismay.
    Beatrice’s orange-ringed eyes swung over Viv as if she were of no value.
    ‘Come on in,’ said Geraldine. ‘Beatrice is a love.’ She pulled the latch back.
    ‘Are you kidding?’ said Viv.
    ‘No, not at all.’ Geraldine opened the door.
    ‘I . . . I can’t,’ said Viv.
    Geraldine put her left hand into the glove.
    ‘You’ll be doing this in no time if you choose to. Beatrice is a good one to start off with because she gets on with everyone.’
    Viv would rather have eaten her own head than interact with birds. Especially large terrifying things like this one.
    Beatrice started making a ‘yarp’ sound.
    ‘That noise tells you that she’s happy I’m around,’ said Geraldine. ‘She’s bonded to me. And I’ve bonded to her, haven’t I, girl?’
    The bird lifted up its wings and seemed to rise up as if on a heat thermal, coming to perch on Geraldine’s outstretched glove.
    ‘I have arm muscles like you wouldn’t believe,’ chuckled Geraldine. ‘She’s quite a weight, I can tell you.’ Geraldine gave the owl a scratch on her head as she addressed her. ‘And you’ve just had your twentieth birthday, haven’t you, my love? Okay, off you pop.’ She jiggled her arm up and down but the owl gripped on.
    ‘She’s spoiled,’ laughed Geraldine. ‘Go on with you. I’m showing a guest around.’
    In the next cage was a large white owl that started flapping her pepper-speckled wings as soon as they neared.
    ‘Just as Beatrice loves everyone, Ursula hates everyone, even Heath.’ Geraldine clucked at the bird in greeting. ‘We keep trying to get her to trust us, but we haven’t made a lot of progress, I’m afraid.’
    The large white owl stared at Viv with ‘I want to kill you’ eyes and started bobbing her head up and down.
    ‘Why is she doing that at me?’ said Viv, feeling ridiculously intimidated.
    ‘Well I never,’ Geraldine said, raising her eyebrows.
    ‘What?’ asked Viv.
    ‘That’s very interesting. She’s interacting with you.’
    ‘Is she?’ asked Viv.
    ‘Yes, she most certainly is. She’s taken her eyes off you to bend her head. That’s a sign of trust.’
    ‘Oh.’ That bird was a rotten judge of character, thought Viv.
    Geraldine grinned. ‘There is no rhyme or reason why birds love you or hate you. They just do.’ She pointed across to a cage. ‘There’s a red-tail hawk over there called Sistine that I found entangled in thorns and I nursed her back to health. But is it me she’s grateful to? Oh no. She’s Heath’s girl.’
    There were hawks and eagles and owls and the ugliest bird Viv had ever seen in her life: a white-headed vulture. The inside of his aviary looked like a Toys R Us for birds. He had a tyre on a rope, a ladder, a huge rubber Kong, a climbing frame.
    ‘Frank turned up in a Manchester scrapyard. He can’t see very well but he likes to play,’ smiled Geraldine. ‘He’s likely to run off with the hosepipe when you clean him out.’
    Viv hoped that Geraldine meant a general ‘you’ and not a specific one. She wouldn’t be cleaning Frank out. Ever.
    ‘Like fresh eggs for breakfast?’ asked Geraldine as they made a slow walk back towards the cottage. ‘We’ve taken in some ex-battery hens. They’re just getting used to being outside and having room to move. They’re learning to scratch for worms and insects and their egg yolks are lovely and golden as a result.’
    That nearly put Viv right off eggs for life. She had always been quite squeamish and once hadn’t eaten cod from the chippy for over a year after hearing that it ate any old rubbish it could get its jaws on, unlike the more discerning haddock.
    The sanctuary