Wanted: Dead or Alive

Well the cat's out of the bag ... and back hunting birds (big and small) again. One of the cats in the house, Cleta, profiled on your left, abstained from killing birds for almost a week. Previously, she was on a killing spree - bringing home birds, baby or adult, every other day, as young cats are wont.

When I called her earlier this afternoon from the backdoor she came quickly, slinking under the backyard fence, proudly, with a baby robin in her maw. Since she wanted to bring it into the house, unfortunately, I had to pry it from her jaws, the bird still alive. The bird died about five minutes later in my hands, a final convulsion of legs and wings as if ready to fly for the first time.

A tragic, sentimental story for the day, but true.

ADDENDUM: I am beginning to suspect this cat has some uncanny charisma, or something, with the natural world. A few minutes ago, I was sitting outside reading a book, and Cleta was sprawled spread-eagle atop the fence. A young, black squirrel was making its way along a nearby fence, then it spotted Cleta and curiously made its way towards her. The rodent inched closer to her, face-to-face, drawing nigh to the lazy, Garfield-sprawled cat only half-a-foot away. I think the squirrel, at this point, figured out that this black cat wasn't next of kin, turned tail and fled to a tree.