A bird in the hand..
Hi all,
As I've mentioned in previous blogs, I'm owned by five of the finest feline specimens known to humanity. Although they insinuated a desire for anonimity, I felt that as Alan's Tigritsa came out in public stylee, I feel it only fair that I should introduce.. Jennifer (or, more affectionately Fennijer); mother to Tigger (boy son), Molly, Smudgy (daughters) and Tom (no relation, but has obvious feelings for Molly, in a purely platonic way (a vet's cut being by far the cruellest)).
I popped home for lunch today, and after a few minutes was treated to the sound of claws on woodwork. It was, much to my dismay, Jennifer bringing home something for the pot. The something in question happened to be a young adult blackbird. At first glance it looked dead to the world, lying as it was, motionless on the front path.
Of course, on opening the door, the family (of a purely four legged variety) trooped out en masse to see what the fuss was about. At which point, the aforementioned (supposedly dead) {although it's tempting, I refuse to do any Monty Python type references here}.. (well; except that one anyway) blackbird, (hereinafter known as Lazarus) decided that he'd had enough, and flapped a lot, all the way to the neighbour opposite's front garden.
Of course the tribe of intrepid hunters followed, sensing the fresh blood of a kill (and free food into the bargain). I scurried out to find this wretched animal cowering in some sort of leafless shrubbery, surrounded by the supporting cast of "Born Free".
I was brought up in the country, and I know that cats eat products other than Whiskers, but I don't like to see them playing with their food. Frankly, my babies couldn't kill a living animal any more than I could. They just seem to play with the catch until it dies of natural causes.
So, to cut a long stor... nah, you know me better than that.. :)
I retrieved Lazarus from the shrubbery (no, I still refuse to do MP). The tribe watched anxiously from the side lines, I guess hoping that I'd divide it into individual portions for them. Couldn't do it, and wouldn't do it. I picked up a very frightened bird (again???) :) and held it in my hands. It was sort of breathing, and it sort of had a heartbeat, but I figured that the shock of the last 10 minutes was enough to see it out..
As is the case with most slaves to their pets, I love animals. I held this little bird in my hand, (it barely covered my palm) and felt it's claws clutch at my finger. I swallowed.
I'm not exactly a qualified vet, but I reckoned that it was on the way out from shock. I thought I'd at least let it go in a more dignified fashion than as a starter for a piggy bunch of pussies (more about our Crib team another time). I held it my hand for around 30 minutes (outside in the cold, as Tom, being the only genuine Hunter/Gatherer in the brood was inside and would be quite happy to get me to pass the sauce), watching it slowly deteriorate.. or so I thought. I stood there stroking it's neck, watching it open and close it's beak. I dreaded it dying, but at the same time, hated to think it was suffering.
Then it started making little noises. It wriggled a bit, and then a little more. I didn't know if this was the final act, or whether a recovery was in the offing! As it turned out, Lazurus was doing the full reincarnation bit, and struggled, then flew off. He only flew a few feet before landing.. with a gentle curse about some bloke called Newton, and why couldn't he keep his mouth shut about those bloody apples..!!
I picked him up, and then had the dilema of where to put him until he was fully recovered. Well I found a place well out of the clutches of the cats, and he did indeed recover. (I've already nodded off once while typing this, it's late and I'm knackered)
I'll continue this tomorrow, if I feel it needs it.. :)
Cheers
Liam
As I've mentioned in previous blogs, I'm owned by five of the finest feline specimens known to humanity. Although they insinuated a desire for anonimity, I felt that as Alan's Tigritsa came out in public stylee, I feel it only fair that I should introduce.. Jennifer (or, more affectionately Fennijer); mother to Tigger (boy son), Molly, Smudgy (daughters) and Tom (no relation, but has obvious feelings for Molly, in a purely platonic way (a vet's cut being by far the cruellest)).
I popped home for lunch today, and after a few minutes was treated to the sound of claws on woodwork. It was, much to my dismay, Jennifer bringing home something for the pot. The something in question happened to be a young adult blackbird. At first glance it looked dead to the world, lying as it was, motionless on the front path.
Of course, on opening the door, the family (of a purely four legged variety) trooped out en masse to see what the fuss was about. At which point, the aforementioned (supposedly dead) {although it's tempting, I refuse to do any Monty Python type references here}.. (well; except that one anyway) blackbird, (hereinafter known as Lazarus) decided that he'd had enough, and flapped a lot, all the way to the neighbour opposite's front garden.
Of course the tribe of intrepid hunters followed, sensing the fresh blood of a kill (and free food into the bargain). I scurried out to find this wretched animal cowering in some sort of leafless shrubbery, surrounded by the supporting cast of "Born Free".
I was brought up in the country, and I know that cats eat products other than Whiskers, but I don't like to see them playing with their food. Frankly, my babies couldn't kill a living animal any more than I could. They just seem to play with the catch until it dies of natural causes.
So, to cut a long stor... nah, you know me better than that.. :)
I retrieved Lazarus from the shrubbery (no, I still refuse to do MP). The tribe watched anxiously from the side lines, I guess hoping that I'd divide it into individual portions for them. Couldn't do it, and wouldn't do it. I picked up a very frightened bird (again???) :) and held it in my hands. It was sort of breathing, and it sort of had a heartbeat, but I figured that the shock of the last 10 minutes was enough to see it out..
As is the case with most slaves to their pets, I love animals. I held this little bird in my hand, (it barely covered my palm) and felt it's claws clutch at my finger. I swallowed.
I'm not exactly a qualified vet, but I reckoned that it was on the way out from shock. I thought I'd at least let it go in a more dignified fashion than as a starter for a piggy bunch of pussies (more about our Crib team another time). I held it my hand for around 30 minutes (outside in the cold, as Tom, being the only genuine Hunter/Gatherer in the brood was inside and would be quite happy to get me to pass the sauce), watching it slowly deteriorate.. or so I thought. I stood there stroking it's neck, watching it open and close it's beak. I dreaded it dying, but at the same time, hated to think it was suffering.
Then it started making little noises. It wriggled a bit, and then a little more. I didn't know if this was the final act, or whether a recovery was in the offing! As it turned out, Lazurus was doing the full reincarnation bit, and struggled, then flew off. He only flew a few feet before landing.. with a gentle curse about some bloke called Newton, and why couldn't he keep his mouth shut about those bloody apples..!!
I picked him up, and then had the dilema of where to put him until he was fully recovered. Well I found a place well out of the clutches of the cats, and he did indeed recover. (I've already nodded off once while typing this, it's late and I'm knackered)
I'll continue this tomorrow, if I feel it needs it.. :)
Cheers
Liam
posted by Liam | 12:05 AM
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