I don’t give a fig

All the flying rats of the neighbourhood have been stripping my fig tree. I haven’t managed to eat a single one. My gardener had some sort of socialist Beatrix Potter idea that there would be enough fruit for birds and people when the tree got bigger. I’m not sure how she figured that was going to work? Will the wax eyes say to themselves, well this fig is beautifully ripe today, but yesterday we ate three figs between us, so lets just leave this one for Kirsty, shall we? I suspect not. I tried bird netting last year, but I was nervous that birds would get stuck in it and die. My sister puts bird netting on her fig trees, and when the little birdies perish, she feeds them to her cats as a crunchy little treat.  I couldn’t do that. I haven’t got any cats, for starters.