I set out for a wander in the garden first thing this morning - are rare delight this summer of almost constant rain.

But my pleasure was quickly thwarted by seeing my kitten - now a cat really - (and of whom, you may know, I am extremely fond), tormenting a wren, another creature of which I am equally fond, in the wet grass.

The cat was scolded, the wren was rescued and I put it in the cleft of a tree in the hope that it would recover from its ordeal and fly off.

I checked it some ten minutes later to find it shivering, hyperventilating and, clearly, fading rather than improving.

But then I remembered that small birds have high body temperatures which they have to maintain by almost constant feeding and my rescue was soaking wet and in a state of shock.

So, with small hope that it would revive and survive, I put it into a tiny box in our hot-press as I figured that, at least, it would now die warm and relieved of further threat.

And an hour later I went to view what I expected to be a corpse, but, as I touched the box, there was a flurry of wings.

And on opening the lid at the kitchen door - from which I had set out for my morning wander - it flew-off with vigour.

This brightened what quickly became yet another dark, wet day...........