THERE’S a recession on, costs are rising, I’m permanently broke, and I’ve got a growing family to care for.

No, I haven’t defied the odds and had another baby. But our lodgers have, meaning we’ve dozens of extra mouths to feed and look after every day.

Welcoming birds and animals into your garden brings a lot of pleasure. We spend hours watching the comings and goings of creatures that have set up camp there.

But with this comes enormous responsibility. When I go downstairs on a morning and look out of the window, the first thing I see is a line of blackbirds hopping about near the hedge, waiting for their breakfast. I’m convinced they look up at the window and become more animated at the first signs of life.

I give them apples and meal worms, which they devour well before lunchtime, so throughout the day I’m faced with the same problem, their little cocked heads, their pleading Oliver-like faces. There’s a family of crows, who at first would not come anywhere near the house, but now know me well enough to perch on our plum tree while I put out food.

Crows get a bad press, but they’re magnificent and very intelligent, dunking pieces of bread in the bird bath before taking to their babies. They call out when they see me in the garden which can be a bit Hitchcockian, but I think they see me as a mother figure.

I have armies of sparrows to feed, a beady-eyed pheasant and his wives, and a hedgehog who visits on an evening and is partial to fruit cake.

My husband thinks it won’t be long before I start throwing dead flies up for the little bat who circles around at dusk.

The problem is that once you start feeding birds and animals, it seems cruel to stop. Like suddenly removing the food bowl from your pet dog or cat.

But it is expensive, and it’s time-consuming: I have to set aside half-an-hour every day to chop apples, top up feeders and clean out the bird bath.

Then there’s the sense of responsibility. We have blue tits on our nesting box, and although we don’t feed them, I’m constantly fretting about their safety. If I haven’t seen the parents flying in and out for a while, I worry that they’ve fallen victim to a cat.

A few times I’ve been on the verge of climbing up to check that all is well, but my husband talked me out of it.

And a special visitor, a blackbird with white spots, hasn’t come for a while, so I’ve been asking around. It hasn’t got to the poster and radio announcement stage yet, but if he hasn’t shown up by Wednesday.