My friend Mud once got some kittens at a shelter and ran them under the water in the sink to make them look like they had been left out in the rain. She lied to her roommates and said that she found them on the side of the road, abandoned by their mother, just so they would let her keep them. This is Mud's daughter holding "Daisy". While I was driving these two meowing brother and sister, flee and worm infested (yea, not so free), baby cats home, I picked "Hunter" and "Huntress" as perfect names. Claire, on the other hand, had other plans. She put up a big fight, so I let her name one of them and "Daisy" was born. Daisy looked a lot like a cat I had growing up and I, therefore, had a bit of a bond with her. But both Daisy and Hunter spent their first winter in the basement. They loved and cuddled and played very well together. In the Spring of 2008, they got their first mice. I praised and praised them both; I didn't know which one of them murdered which specific mouse, but I was always happy to find dead bodies at the bottom of the stairs. These cats were intended to be outdoor cats, so they were allowed to come and go out of their cat door whenever they pleased. This was fine with me, as I had all sorts of other animals to tend to. But one day in June, Hunter disappeared. He was gone; I was certain...dead. But, I put posters up around our small town, called the vets, etc. etc. etc. Three weeks (3!!) later I get a call from the old woman at the bottom of the hill. Hunter had been hanging around there for a few days. I couldn't believe he survived his little vacation...what with all the coyotes, fisher cats, owls, hawks in our woods, you get my drift. He was a little beat up, skinny, and needing love, but he was alive.
Daisy decided to risk the NOLS trip as well. On August 27th I watched her venture into our deep dark woods and never return. I haven't been the same since.
Here is, however, her big brother...alive and kicking. He has killed all the mice in the vicinity, all the moles, and has moved onto other things.
Here are the bird feeders that Paul Bunyan made for me last Christmas. Yes, the licence plates are from places we have lived. Aren't they wicked cool?
Here are the sweet innocent birds that love to eat from the wicked cool bird feeders that Paul Bunyan made for me last Christmas.
Here is the mean and rotten cat who eats the sweet innocent birds who eat from the wicked cool bird feeders that Paul Bunyan made for me.
Here are the ducks who return to the pond every year in the Spring, exactly on the day after the ice melts. I don't know if they are the same pair...but I have a feeling they are. It's like the couple that goes back to the same resort year after year after year. They're set in their ways.
Here are the geese that stop by every now and again on their way north, kinda like the ducks.
Here is the cat that has eaten all the mice, and moles, and voles, and birds, and thinks he might have something bigger and better to eat.
Here is the cat stalking the very big Canada geese who are just on a long layover.
And that maybe he should just look at their reflections in the water, instead of trying to murder them.