This is Sunday, and the question arises, what’ll I start tomorrow? ~ Kurt Vonnegut
I’ve about had all the bird drama I can stand for a while. There’s a scrub jay nest in our across-the-street neighbor’s pine tree and when Zippy and I returned from our run on Friday, we heard a cacophony in that yard. A fluffy white and gray cat (often seen roaming the neighborhood) was being dive-bombed by screeching scrub jays. Why? The cat had a fledgling in its mouth. I screamed and ran at the cat who dropped the baby bird and ran away. While Zippy stood guard over the stunned bird, I ran across the street to our house and looked up the closest bird rescue site. “Temporarily closed.”
I did a little more research and determined it would be okay to put on gloves to pick up the bird. So that’s what Zippy did and then placed the baby in a shoebox lined with an old t-shirt. We couldn’t spot the nest so he stuck the box up in the tree, wedged between branches, as the parents watched.
A while later, the cat returned and this time I kept following it. It crossed the street, nervously checking over its shoulder, again and again, to see if the angry woman had given up. When another neighbor told me where the cat lived, I went to that house. No answer. Throughout the day, Zippy and I checked out our windows to see if the cat had returned. We didn’t see it again.
Yesterday (Saturday) morning, just as Wildebeest and I returned from walking Emma, there was another raucous uproar in the neighbor’s yard. This time, the fluffy white cat sat calmly (no bird in mouth) as the parent jays dive-bombed it. Again, I ran at the cat and chased it away. After another no-answer when I rang the cat’s home doorbell, I went home and wrote a very civil note, explaining the situation and asking that the cat be kept inside.
We haven’t seen the cat at all today. I did, however, see the fledgling on the ground presumably after testing its wings again. It seemed fine. Fast forward six hours. As I sat reading, I heard yelling and yelping. I ran outside and heard the next-door neighbor say “baby bird.”
This time, the unfortunate little fledgling had the bad luck to end up in Rainbow‘s yard.
The good news is that when Rainbow’s human yelled for her to drop the bird, Rainbow listened.** Zippy again donned the gloves, caught the baby who was much more feisty this time, set it in another box I’d prepared, and wedged it in the tree as the parents watched.
I’ve never wanted to be able to fly (possibly related to my fear of heights), but I’m wishing very, very hard for that little scrub jay to soar overhead. The sooner the better.
** Especially good news in light of the fact our neighbor believes she inadvertently adopted a “serial killer” when she adopted Rainbow. Recent victims include a chicken and a prairie dog.
Marcel thinks that if he blocks the screen with his considerable bulk, I will focus on him instead of Netflix or Hulu. And maybe that ploy did work a couple months ago when this photo was taken, when I was feeling more tender-hearted and giving.
Tonight is a different story. He has been warned.
Still life with Batman
became feline adventure
black and white photo
Marcel and I are spending the day in bed where I’m thoroughly engrossed in reading Erin Entrada Kelly’s excellent WE DREAM OF SPACE. Well, “thoroughly” is a bit of a stretch. I tend to get distracted each time Marcel starts waving around his ginormous back feet.
Still and all, a happy #Caturday (as indicated by the curled toes).
There is no excellent beauty that hath not some strangeness in the proportion. ~ Francis Bacon
Indecision and reveries are the anesthetics of constructive action. ~ Sylvia Plath
Here’s Marcel watching a scrub jay through the window screen, flowers blooming in the background. A photographic reminder for me on this January day that no season is forever. Soft spring air is in my future.
Here’s another installment of Marcel and the ever-blooming geranium.
This photo is from February, but could’ve been taken today or yesterday. The familiar serenity of the image evokes peace and contentment.
Wishing a good #Caturday to all the feline-lovers out there.
One day last week, son Wildebeest and I had our cameras out to practice photographing a black cat and a white cat at the same time. It’s difficult to land on the correct settings that will allow the black cat to have definition without also blowing out the white cat’s fur. This photo is proof of my ongoing struggle.
However, capturing the moment Loki launched the attack on his brother from below was a small victory. And if you look closely, you’ll see a hint of trepidation on Marcel’s face. Every picture, even a poor one, tells a story.
As anyone who has ever been around a cat for any length of time well knows, cats have enormous patience with the limitations of the human kind. ~ Cleveland Amory
And we’re really stretching their feline patience these days. Come on, human kind. We’ve got to do much, much better.
everyone craves the sunshine
Oh, to be Marcel
lifetime of naps in sunshine
where do I sign up
Cat and squirrel face off through the glass as a House Finch dines in the background. Meanwhile, a fish (window sticker) swims across the scene. Would’ve been even more awesome if a reptile wandered into the picture.
Guess it could happen…the day’s still young.
In a portrait, you have room to have a point of view. The image may not be literally what’s going on, but it’s representative. ~ Annie Leibovitz
Marcel and I are in solidarity with anyone else chewing their nails and/or shredding their cuticles today. I’m not so much nervous about what’s going to happen as pissed by the knowledge that the Democrats will handle this latest end run by the Republicans in their usual spineless fashion. The Democratic establishment only plays hardball against the left.
The one piece of good news is that I’m pretty confident I won’t be coughing up a hairball. Marcel? Not a given.
(ETA: for my own historical reference, I want to note the Senate approved five judges just this past week with the help of the Democrats who during the Obama years passively accepted MANY judicial vacancies at the hand of Mitch McConnell.)
To chase tail or not to chase tail, that is the question.
Greetings from my friend, Marcel.
This peanut butter kitty could definitely kick our asses with his enormous feet, but Marcel prefers to snuggle. In fact, he’s in ecstasy when I rub the the bottoms of those long feet and often drools during our massage sessions. Gotta admire his unapologetic hedonism.
This photo was taken years ago and when I came across it today, I was underwhelmed. I mean, why the long shot of the rail and the barely-visible cat tails? I was about to delete when I looked more closely.
Hello there, Marcel.
Any questions, please direct them to my manager.
It might not look that way, but Marcel is very pleased that Zippy and I caucused today for the open Colorado senate seat. He was thrilled to find out that of the 8 people who showed up in our precinct, 6 of us were for Andrew Romanoff (and only two for the DCCC-annointed oil and gas man). Marcel was less excited to learn that caucus rules/math required a roll of the dice for the last “tied” delegate and that the roll went to the oil and gas man.
However, Marcel knows it’s a WIN when Romanoff gets 4 delegates to the county assembly and the other guy only got two. Marcel is a whiz with numbers.
Come mothers and fathers
Throughout the land
And don’t criticize
What you can’t understand
Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command
Your old road is
Please get out of the new one
If you can’t lend your hand
For the times they are a-changin’.
~ Bob Dylan
And we don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows. (Don’t let Marcel’s expression fool you–it’s a good direction. 🙂 )
Zippy and I just returned from a run on the trails with Emma, and as I sat in recovery mode (basically, waiting for my ears to thaw), I noticed the floor was in serious need of vacuuming. But on my way to retrieve the vacuum from the closet, I noticed Marcel’s regal bearing. So, I adroitly abandoned the vacuum for the camera. And now here I am at the laptop, posting on my site.
I’ll take a nice cat photo over clean floors, any day.
Just to be clear, the only weapons Marcel has in that box are claws, teeth, and a whole lot of tangled ribbon. Your wallets are safe.
On the other hand, he does drool. A lot. So to be on the safe/dry side, you might want to back away slowly . . .