“NOW don’t be plonking them in front of the TV watching any old rubbish,” were my daughters’ final words as she dropped off Eilidh and Taylor, who are eight, and three-year-old Joey at my house last Saturday morning.

I had previously recorded a wild life documentary which was filmed in the Serengeti and thought to myself: “That’ll be educational.”

However, five minutes into the programme Eilidh covered her eyes and wee Joey stood motionless as a pack of ferocious lions stalked and then pounced on a small wildebeest before ripping it to pieces.

Blood and guts were flying everywhere, and when wee Joey asked why the nice lion had a leg in its mouth, I knew it was time to turn it off.

“Why don’t you come to the front window and watch as I nip outside and feed the birds?” I suggested. “And then we will go for a walk in the woods.”

“Why do you feed the birds?”

“Because, it’s frosty and there’s not much food for them.” I explained.

“And it also means they will come back to my garden every day.”

The kids seemed happy with the explanation and gathered at my large front window to watch for the birds.

No sooner had I thrown out the bread and seeds when lots of little birds flew down and started pecking away.

“See, I told you they would come if you feed them.”

The kids seemed content watching the different types of birds, and soon about a dozen pigeons joined the flock and began feeding too.

All was well, the kids were quiet and content, and I was sure my daughter would be well pleased that we were doing something other than sitting in front of the telly.

However, the subdued atmosphere was about to change dramatically ...

Like a bolt of lightening darting from the grey sky, a Bird of Prey suddenly swooped down and attacked one of the pigeons.

The other birds screeched and squawked like nothing I had heard before in my life, and flew as fast as they could up on to the safety of the rooftops.

Meanwhile my three novice bird watchers were in a silent state of shock. And so was I.

“Shut your eyes,” I roared at them, “shut your eyes.”

Of course, horrific as it was, none of them dared close their eyes.

The two birds wrestled on the grass while bloodied feathers flew in every direction, and I decided, being the adult, that I should attempt to put an end to the ferocious attack which was taking place in my garden.

After all, this bloodied scene was not for the feint hearted, and Eilidh was now bawling her eyes out.

Involuntarily, my Bear Grylls instinct kicked in, and quick as a flash I whipped off one of my new Christmas Ugg slippers, flung open the side window, and fired it straight at the Bird of Prey.

Momentarily it stopped pecking the now half dead pigeon, and the kids clapped their hands relieved that the mayhem had stopped.

“Thank goodness,” I sighed.

But ... the bird of prey only stopped attacking the pigeon long enough to wrap its huge claws around my new slipper and drag it into the hedge.

“Look, look,” screeched Eilidh, “it’s back again.”

And so it was. After depositing my expensive slipper in a safe place, it continued pecking and eating the dead bird as though it hadn’t been fed for weeks.

I had had enough.

I pulled the remaining Ugg slipper off, and threw it directly at the bird attempting again to shoo it away.

But much to my frustration, the scary bird did the same thing again.

It pounced on the second slipper and dragged it into the hedge next to the other one.

“It’s even eating your slippers,” Taylor couldn’t believe his eyes.

Closing the blinds I tried to amuse the kids with one thing and another, but their minds kept going back to the carnage outside.

“It’s a cannibal,” Eilidh was disgusted.

“It’s a bad, bad bird,” added wee Joey, who I was hoping wouldn’t have nightmares.

“Let’s forget about the bad bird and go for a walk in the woods,” I suggested.

“No way,” cried a terrified Eilidh, “I’m not going outside in case I get attacked.”

And sure enough, my front garden in Airdrie now resembled the Serengeti with blood, guts and feathers strewn everywhere.

“How were the kids?” my daughter asked.

“I’ve got them the Jurassic Park DVD for tonight.”

“I’d perhaps give that one a miss,” I said.

“I think they’ve had seen enough excitement for one day.”