A stray cat wandering into a neighborhood raises more ruckus than a hole-pocked muffler on a surly teenager's car.
Yesterday, an evil-eyed calico cat, one that I had never seen before, attacked Chip-Chip on the front step. Fortunately, because Chip-Chip has an escape entry on the backside of the step, and lightning quick reflexes, the cat never had a chance to catch him. As he let out his high-pitched warning to other critters in the immediate vicinity that a trouble maker was on the loose, the nefarious cat pawed fruitlessly at the step before skulking off to find more trouble.
Side note: Did you ever notice that different species will help each other out? Birds will warn each other if a hawk or cat is in the area, even if under normal circumstances they don't give a hoot about each other. Squirrels will bark and growl with the same effect, and 13-lined ground squirrels and chipmunks will release a similar warning that alerts anyone else who cares to listen. Their warnings perhaps also have the unintended consequence of calling out the nearest Good Samaritan, willing to chase off the enemy with a stick.
I knew that Chip-Chip would be safe. But there was also a robin's nest directly above the step, so doing what I tend to do--interfering with the nature order of things--I went outside and chased the cat away. The elderly neighborhood whose garage is the second home to Chipper also lean out her front door and scolded the cat.
Here's a helpful tip about chasing cats away: They don't always leave at the first suggestion. In other words, they don't take the hint that they're unwelcome, especially when juicy little fledglings and baby squirrels and nervous chipmunks are in abundant supply. So keep looking for the cat, chase it once, chase it again, scavenge around in the ferns where it may be hiding, listen to the robins and catbirds (who, despite their name, really detest cats; if you hear a catbird mimicking a cat, that probably means that the cat is still around searching for a meal), and carry a stick, not that I advocate hitting cats, but as a way to poke around in the daylilies and shrubs where the cuddly killer may be lurking.
When the birds have finally settled down, the stray cat is probably out of the vicinity.
One other point: I don't dislike cats. Cats are some of my favorite people. I blame their owners, the ones too irresponsible to keep their cats under control. Please remember--and this is one of my occasionally serious points--domestic cats kill a lot of critters . . . a lot of critters. Don't let your cat be one of the guilty ones. Songbirds alone this year have died off from a lack of bugs--from a lack of warm weather. Let's help get their numbers back in shape. Remember from my other blog entry: Suet will help songbirds.
Conclusion: Stray cats, bad. Intervention, sometimes necessary, especially when fledglings can barely fly. Helpful neighbor lady, good. And fat, good. Again, share your fat. The songbirds will thank you. As we already know, Chip-Chip, Chipper, and Rose all enjoy the chorus of songbirds as well. The more, the better.
Yesterday, an evil-eyed calico cat, one that I had never seen before, attacked Chip-Chip on the front step. Fortunately, because Chip-Chip has an escape entry on the backside of the step, and lightning quick reflexes, the cat never had a chance to catch him. As he let out his high-pitched warning to other critters in the immediate vicinity that a trouble maker was on the loose, the nefarious cat pawed fruitlessly at the step before skulking off to find more trouble.
Side note: Did you ever notice that different species will help each other out? Birds will warn each other if a hawk or cat is in the area, even if under normal circumstances they don't give a hoot about each other. Squirrels will bark and growl with the same effect, and 13-lined ground squirrels and chipmunks will release a similar warning that alerts anyone else who cares to listen. Their warnings perhaps also have the unintended consequence of calling out the nearest Good Samaritan, willing to chase off the enemy with a stick.
I knew that Chip-Chip would be safe. But there was also a robin's nest directly above the step, so doing what I tend to do--interfering with the nature order of things--I went outside and chased the cat away. The elderly neighborhood whose garage is the second home to Chipper also lean out her front door and scolded the cat.
Here's a helpful tip about chasing cats away: They don't always leave at the first suggestion. In other words, they don't take the hint that they're unwelcome, especially when juicy little fledglings and baby squirrels and nervous chipmunks are in abundant supply. So keep looking for the cat, chase it once, chase it again, scavenge around in the ferns where it may be hiding, listen to the robins and catbirds (who, despite their name, really detest cats; if you hear a catbird mimicking a cat, that probably means that the cat is still around searching for a meal), and carry a stick, not that I advocate hitting cats, but as a way to poke around in the daylilies and shrubs where the cuddly killer may be lurking.
When the birds have finally settled down, the stray cat is probably out of the vicinity.
One other point: I don't dislike cats. Cats are some of my favorite people. I blame their owners, the ones too irresponsible to keep their cats under control. Please remember--and this is one of my occasionally serious points--domestic cats kill a lot of critters . . . a lot of critters. Don't let your cat be one of the guilty ones. Songbirds alone this year have died off from a lack of bugs--from a lack of warm weather. Let's help get their numbers back in shape. Remember from my other blog entry: Suet will help songbirds.
Conclusion: Stray cats, bad. Intervention, sometimes necessary, especially when fledglings can barely fly. Helpful neighbor lady, good. And fat, good. Again, share your fat. The songbirds will thank you. As we already know, Chip-Chip, Chipper, and Rose all enjoy the chorus of songbirds as well. The more, the better.
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