Well, almost.
There I was, checking my email in the office after feeding the boys, as usual. All of a sudden I hear squawking. And sight unseen, I know exactly what it is: the boys have got this year’s bird.
Each year, it seems, one is sacrificed to the cat gods. Often they get away; but not always. Sometimes they are completely devoured, leaving almost nothing more than a feather behind.
I came out to see the boys watching a mourning dove on the floor. Not a baby, like usual, but an adult. DH came out at about the same time. Just as he said it didn’t look dead to him (I told him they play possum), it flew up & behind one of my exercise equipment.
Now, remember that the boys reside outside in a chain link dog kennel (a very large one). Yet I have seen birds land on it — I’ve even seen them fly into it sometimes. Birdbrain, DH says. Yet supposedly birds have a decently large brain considering their size. Still, there is definitely something to survival of the fittest.
At this point we shoo Gizmo outside, I lure Simba into the bathroom with treats (I couldn’t believe that treats trumped bird, frankly), and DH went off to put some clothes on and look for a container to try to get the bird into.
Although they’re only six years old, the boys definitely show signs of slowing down. This is the second time recently I’ve been able to chase them off a kill. Usually when they bring in a bird, they play with it (it’s not pretty). I think they weren’t quite sure what to do with an adult bird; the birds they’ve brought in in the past have been babies.
Not too long ago they brought in a lizard. I managed to get them to let it go & get it into a glass, then Gizmo promptly put his paw in the glass, got the lizard, put it in his mouth & ran outside with it.
But we’re talking birds here, not lizards. I’d thrown a towel to where the bird was, and thought I’d gotten it, but I hadn’t. It was behind my racks of paint. When DH tried to move said paint, it flew off again — right smack into our dome window, then behind my painting desk.
Finally, DH was able to scoop it up with the towel & set it free outside — where it promplty flew directly into the side of the kennel again (but not actually inside it). I don’t think that bird is long for this world, but we did our part to ensure its survival.
No, sorry, no pictures. We’re way too busy trying to figure out how to get the darn thing out then to grab a camera and take photos of the live bird flying around our house.
Chester, in the meantime, never even got off the bed (the door to the bedroom was closed, but still). What a good boy!
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