One of my Back Yard Yarns for our younger readers.

One day, Mrs Blue Tit noticed that one of her fledglings kept sneezing.

‘Oh dear,’ she thought, I hope he hasn’t caught a cold or flu.’

“What’s wrong, Robbie?” she asked as she put a wing around the little bird’s shoulders, although it was a bit of a stretch as Robbie was much bigger than all his eight brothers and sisters.

“No, Mummy, I’m fine,” Robbie replied, although his voice sounded really sad. “Well, no, I’m not fine really, Mummy. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but all my siblings have yellow breasts and my breast was a boring brown but now it is starting to go red. Our cousins from the wood were making fun of my red breast, so I tried to dust my chest with daisy pollen, but the dust got up my nose and made me sneeze.”

“Oh Robbie, you poor dear,” clucked Mrs Blue Tit. “Let’s fly back to our nest, it’s time your Daddy and me gave you The Talk. We knew it would come one day, and it looks like today’s the day.”

“Er, Mum, I really struggled to get out of the opening in the nest this morning. I’m not sure if I can get back in. I’m so fat and ugly, no wonder my cousins hate me and made fun of me.”

“They don’t hate you Robbie, you’re just a little different from them, that’s all. I think they’re jealous, red is so ... outstanding than boring old yellow. I hope your brothers and —”

“No, Mummy, they were defending me, telling our cousins off for being cruel and nasty.”

“Good, I know you’ve always protected them Robbie, even though you were the last egg to hatch, you’ve always been like a big brother to them.”

“Well, Mum, although we squabble over the odd caterpillar, I love all my brothers and sisters. Look, there’s a good nesting site just a foot above our nest in the old tree stump. I scouted it out this morning. Can we meet there?”

“Of course.”

They landed at the crack in the tree stump above the blue tit nest and Mrs Blue Tit called out for Mr Blue Tit to come upstairs.

“It’s really roomy in here,” Mr Blue Tit said when he flew up.

“And the view’s better,” Robbie said a little embarrassed, his red breast getting redder. “Maybe when I get a girlfriend ... my cousin May keeps bumping into me and passed me half a grub at school dinners.”

“Aah,” Mr Blue Tit coughed, cleared his throat. “That’s why we wanted to have this little chat about your red breast, don’t we, Mother? After all, it was all your Mum’s idea in the first place.”

“Yes, Robbie,” Mrs Blue Tit continued, “you see, er, Robbie ... you were adopted.”

“Adopted? You mean I’m not your son?”

“You’ll always be our son,” both Mr and Mrs Blue Tit insisted, his Mum continued, “We raised you from a tiny egg into the near adult bird you are, and we are so proud of you son, how you’ve always helped and encouraged others, how athletic and strong you are and how brave you stand up against bullies, yet so kind and big hearted to your family. We love you Robbie and always will.”