AS I sit in my fir tree looking out and around, I can tell it's December because my golden claws are freezing off.

We don't have heating. We only have feathers to keep us warm I often gaze through the window wondering how they survive the winter.

They forget me. Leave me to starve. They have plenty I have none. I perch day after day seeing whether they may just remember me sat on their tree waiting. The days seem like years and the minutes seem like hours.

Children come outside to play. I hope that, maybe, one might have a bag of food. They are wearing gloves and hats. They laugh , play, giggle and fall in the snow. One stares at me, snow in his had. It launches through the air at me. I hide in a holly bush, I think I'm safe. The leaves stick into me. I'm stuck, I struggle and struggle and eventually I am free, now where do I go. I fly back to my bird house.

My autumn is spent filling the bird house with feathers and leaves. It is mine, the only thing that is mine for it was put there for me and only me last winter. From the bird house I can see the lights glowing and the decorations shine. It makes me glow inside and shine outside. A beautiful sight to see. I often look across the road. There are lights there too.

The day is coming and the snow falls, the sky becomes dark and the moon glows. The morning comes and children sit by the tree wrapping a present for Auntie Anne ready to send. They open their presents and their faces gleam with joy. My only present is my life and the only question is will I survive next year!