There he is, Li'l Scrawny, standing bravely at the helm of his nest (and looking rather blurred. I took half a dozen pix, each one worse than the one before. This was the pick of the jitter). I took this on Sunday mid-afternoon, a day filled with crises and near-crises for the tenacious little varmint. I don't expect to get any more pictures because he's moved out of the nest now, and isn't likely to get back in. As of Monday (30th May) evening, he was alive and reasonably perky. Earlier in the afternoon, he finally did what we'd been expecting him to do all of Sunday, i.e., fall out of the bamboo. But E collected him (against the strenuous protests of his flutteringly frantic parents) and put him back inside the nest. He promptly reared up and fell out again, but was returned just as promptly, and this time, a hand was held over his head to prevent him from popping straight out again. After this trauma, he remained pretty much glued to the tree -- outside the nest, however -- until nightfall. He's been stretching his wings and standing tall on his toothpick-thin legs and preening what little he has in the way of feathers. The last I saw of him, he'd tucked his tiny head under his tiny wing, and was apparently asleep. One miniature pompom of White Eye fluff, asleep under cover of darkness.