Birds and Cats, Like Oil and Water

Here at the present abode and for the last ten years, I have fed and photographed the birds, mostly common; Cardinals, Chickadees, Tufted Titmice, and Blue Jays. But sometimes a bird of note comes along. Such was the case this spring when a bird by the name of Painted Bunting appeared and honored me with its presence. With a kaleidoscope of color, the Painted Bunting is unmistakable and arguably the most striking bird to pass through the state of Oklahoma.

The bird is photo tolerant. About a week ago, one of them patiently perched on my feeder, content to dine on millet, while I set up a tripod and camera not twenty feet away. I had two, maybe three days of opportunity with this beauty before tragedy struck. A feathered body of red, green, blue, and gold lay cold and lifeless on my garage floor, intact but graveyard dead. The identity of the killer was not in question. Brat Cat, aka The Problem Child, had struck again. The other resident cats around here have neither the physical ability nor the inclination to perform such a dastardly deed.

While a certain amount of predation is to be expected when cats are allowed to roam free (not my choice), the demise of the Painted Bunting, a fairly rare and beautiful bird, was more than I could easily digest. Something had to be done.

The first and obvious move—as painful as it was—was to remove the feeders. Despite the pleasure I get from watching the feathered creatures, I felt it was necessary, as I did not want to be responsible for luring the little creatures to certain death. Other options had their own consequences. I could shoot the cat but the repercussions would be most serious. The Missus looks at her cats as children for the senior citizen. She fusses and clucks over them like a barnyard hen. In her eyes, it’s a case of my birds versus her cats. No contest.

Deterrents in the past were of mixed success. A water gun known as a Super Soaker was semi-effective but only if applied during the act of stalking. Loud noises from banging on a garbage can or angry shouts accompanied by the throwing of heavy objects such as a patio broom were likewise without lasting result. A friend suggested bells, those that you attach to a collar. Not the little ringy-ding bells from PetsSmart but a clang-clanger such as you might find in a parakeet cage. However, a Google search revealed that such bells do not work and in fact, studies show that the cats learn how to become even stealthier in their approach. As I saw it, there were two other possible solutions.

One, build a wire fence beneath the feeders or two; attach a shock collar such as the ones used to train dogs. I must admit that option number two held great appeal, not only for the revenge factor, but for entertainment value as well. I could think of nothing more satisfying that melting her little feline ass to the ground just as she made her closing charge. But there was the cost factor, eighty dollars as compared to eighteen or so for the fence. That and knowing full well that the cat would somehow rid herself of the collar, losing it in a vast field of weeds and brush, leaving me holding a remote shocker control with nothing to shock.

The fence was installed today and already I’ve seen the return of a Cardinal, an Indigo Bunting, and yes, believe it or not, another Painted Bunting, probably the last of its kind. I will observe the success of this setup in the coming days. But not without a glass of whisky at my side and a 20 gauge shotgun across my lap, cocked and loaded.

This could get interesting.

Tuesday follow up.

You would have been proud of me; out of bed at dawn, got coffee to go, grabbed the camera, and headed out to the big, beautiful world to catch the morning light. Okay, so I only drove out to the Keystone Lake dam, about 20 minutes, but I did get out. Since we've had no rain in who knows when, naturally there was no water coming through the turbines which means no fish which means no birds eating fish. Oh there were birds, egrets, herons, and vultures by the hundreds, but no activity. With few exceptions, all were standing on the rocks, chatting about their families and the weather, with one eye on what little water there was in hope that a thunderstorm upstream might boost the level up an inch or two.

The icemaker I referred to in yesterday's post? You did read it didn't you? Well, it still drips. I'll get back to you on that.

Still hot, another Monday.

Those of you who have been anxiously awaiting the results of installing a new fuel filter on the lawnmower, can breathe a deep sigh of relief. Mowed the entire lawn without a flame out. Today, I tackle the problem of an over-flowing ice maker in the fridge. The excitement never ends around here.



Checked on the Mississippi Kite nest this morning. Both of the young birds were in their usual place so the cats didn't get one after all. I suppose I should have apologized to them for the accusation but I didn't. Will be so glad when this oppressive heat wave moves on so I can get out and shoot some photos without the viewfinder fogging over from sweat and humidity. I suppose I could turn the AC in the pickup on high and shoot out the window. There's that. Wait, that's just wrong on so many levels.

Birds and books

There was only one Mississippi Kite youngster in the nest yesterday evening. Hopefully the other one has reached the stage where it can fly and has not fallen from the nest to become a victim to predators. My wife's cats have been seen in that neighborhood from time to time and cannot be ruled out, but no one is talking.

Did I mention that I received a few preliminary copies of my so called novel, No Refuge? It was printed by Lulu.com and I thought they did a good job with the possible exception of having the title a little too high on the cover. But maybe that was my fault. In any case, I have to admit to a certain amount of satisfaction and pride to have the finished product on my coffee table.

A couple of people, known for giving honest opinions, are reading it as we speak. Depending on their reviews, a decision will be made as to whether more editing is needed in hopes of a real publication, or simply chalk it up to experience. It's hard for me to believe that it has been two years since I started working on it. That's not writing every day of course, there were several weeks when I got burned out and didn't touch it, but all in all, it was a worthwhile experience. Just not sure I'll ever do it again. Truth is, I'm a much better reader than writer.

Dog-gone

I was most relieved when the neighbor lady picked up the stray dog yesterday afternoon, as were the cats. Hopefully the little thing will have a future but a dog with questionable ancestry doesn't have much chance of adoption it seems. Here's your old man lecture of the day folks; spay and neuter!!!. Yeah it costs a little money but you're doing the animal and the rest of the community a great service. Tell your kids that animals aren't like video games, to play with for awhile and then forgotten.

The dog may be gone but the young Mississippi Kites are still here and on the nest, though not for long. This morning, the two youngsters were sitting out on a limb, their fuzzy white heads having changed to a light brown and now sporting dark streaks across their breasts. It won't be long; days, maybe hours, before they take to the skies. According to my reference books, the adults will continue to feed them for a few more weeks, sometimes in mid-air. Now that's a photo I'd love to get.