The weather was still achingly hot, but not as windy as the day before. The fledgling was balancing more confidently on her thin bough. Mum and dad managed to manoeuvre themselves to be above or next to her to feed. Mum groomed her, and stayed by her side most of the time. Dad watched from the hollow or close by. Throughout the morning, both parents softly communicated, flying backwards and forwards in front of her, coming onto her precarious perch, reassuring. Then, when all was quiet, she suddenly took off, flying down the hill to an old, established tree. There, mum and dad briefly groomed her and fed her. Mum touched beaks with her daughter, before they flew off. Later that day I went down to see how the fledgling was faring. She had moved trees, and was, understandably, exhausted (photo 5)