The circle of life. Instincts. The call of the wild. Nature's way. The food chain. Whatever. I'm battling the force that pits cats against birds.
We have a little evergreen tree on the side of our house. Curt has been begging me to let him chop it down, but I, the resident tree hugger, cannot let him do it. The sweet lady who sold us the house is from Sweden and she told me that it was her first Christmas tree. How sad would it be if she drove by to see it and it was gone?
The tree has had several dead branches for the past few months (more like 7 months) and Curt decided to eliminate those branches last week. Yesterday I was getting out of my car when my eyes began playing tricks on me. I looked at the tree and saw little baby birds opening their beaks as wide as they could go. Surely not! But yes! We had a nest, a momma bird, a daddy bird, and three baby birds in the Christmas tree. They were now a little more exposed than before since the tree has a few less branches. I got as close as I dared, with mom and dad Mockingbird squawking wildly, and watched the precious babies as their heads bobbed up and down in their plea for regurgitated worms. Mockingbirds don't mess around, so I cut my visit short. New moms appreciate that anyway.
I was so excited...until I remembered how many cats we have on our street. My heart sank. The nest was well hidden until we decided to hack away at the branches only hours before the baby birds came out of their shells. I looked at my bedroom window and I could tell Bill had been messing with the blinds in order to get a view of the tree. He was already onto them. I'm not new to cats, Bill. Sorry to break it to you, but there were others before you. I know how your kind works. You like to present things, things that once were alive but have now passed, as gifts to your masters.
What does all this mean for Bill? Well, he absolutely cannot go outside until the birds have left their nest. How will I know? Believe me, I will know! They are making a precious racket. What does this mean for me? I get to deal with an agitated cat who passes the hours scratching at the door and crying. This will go on until I've broken his spirit and he accepts his fate of lounging all day long on the dining room chairs. Bless his heart. Don't feel too sorry for him, though. I found him licking his chops by the window today.