Bugger what the weather's doing; it's OFFICIALLY Spring.

[badgerpup]

Wimsey Whitecat brought in the first bird of the season...so he could play with it indoors. :wow:

It was a cock sparrow, think he was in his first breeding plumage, because he was kinda small and the colors of his feathers (bright chestnut, deep charcoal and warm grey) were so rich and distinct.

Wimsey brought him into the bedroom...where he proceeded to lose him behind the waterbed.
Oh, that's just farkin' peachy! :banghead:
Nothing I like better than the prospect of having to dismantle the WHOLE. DAMN. WATERBED because there's a dead bird behind it that I can't get to otherwise...( :sarcasm: )

Fortunately, there was a pillow that had sort of fallen between the head of the bed and the wall. I hauled it out to assist Wimsey in finding the bird (after which it would be taken from him...further action would depend upon the condition of the bird).

"Mmmmrrrr? Mrrrrow? Mmmmmmmmmrrrrrrrrr?"
Wimsey is confused...he can smell the bird, but it's nowhere to be found.
I just happen to glance at the pillow...and there's about ONE INCH of little brown-and-black tail feathers protruding from the end. :think: Clever little sparrow had hopped inside the pillowcase, and then when I hauled the pillow up, he went right along, clinging to the pillow for all he was worth...thereby getting him out of Wimsey's immediate range.

"C'mon, little guy..." he didn't seem to be bleeding anywhere, but he was panting with his beak open...figured he was a bit shocky. I'd put socks on my hands (hey, they were fast, available, and RIGHT THERE) for protection, so I carried the little dude outside and tried to set him in the crabapple tree so he could regain his breath and composure. He opens one bright little dark eye, looks at me, and *zoom*- he's OUTTA there...flying over the roof, last I saw.

Figured he's earned his right to try to breed, having survived a VERY POWERFUL LESSON about cats.
My cats have taken on the job of "Clorox In Teh Avian Gene Pool" and take this...er...responsibility MOST seriously.

Back inside, Wimsey was still looking for the bird and his trills and burbles expressed a great deal of confusion and frustration;
"WHERE THE HELL DID IT GO? I know it was right HERE, I can smell it...WHERE IS IT?!" Poor Wimsey...
I praised Wimsey for being such a mighty hunter, and reminded him that he was NOT supposed to bring his 'toys' inside. What happens Outside, stays Outside, remember?
If you bring your 'toys' inside, I will take them away from you and LET THEM GO.

He finally gave up the search about 10 minutes later (trilling all the while) when I offered him some Greenies. :9

Hey, he's made it official after all...now it really IS SPRING! :bounce:

[MadMaddie]

1. Thanks for sharing your spring story!

Wimsey is surely plotting to bring you more gifts...Spring has just begun!!B-)

[badgerpup]

2. Thanks!

:hi:
I was hoping somebody would reply to this silly little bit of blather...:pals:

Wish it would QUIT SNOWING, though...
cats bringing in birds to inaugurate the season or not, the weather still sucketh mightily! :crazy:

[The Velveteen Ocelot]

3. Poor Wimsey; you took his catch away!

I feel your (and his) pain. My cat, the late Teddy (RIP), once caught a bat in the house. So he was running around all excited and the bat was flapping and squeaking in his mouth. But I wasn't about to let him keep (and possibly eat) a freakin' bat, so I chased him down the stairs and he hid under the coffee table, growling furiously at me, while the bat continued to flap and squeak, and I yelled, "Dammit, Teddy, drop the fucking bat RIGHT NOW!" Finally, after I made a lot of loud noises and thumped the floor next to him, he was startled enough to let go of the bat, whom I promptly caught in a show box and tossed outside.

Teddy was really angry at me, I think. As an indoor cat the only live prey he'd ever caught before was a few June bugs and a couple of mice. The bat was the best thing he'd ever bagged and I had the nerve to take it away from him.

There are some definite drawbacks to having carnivorous pets. You would never have to take an escaped, panicked live carrot away from an angry rabbit.