Blogger changes have made me tentative to update but the template looks OK, my temerity was misplaced. So, what's been happening?
With summer here the catching season is upon us. That's true in both town and country. With fledgelings about, the city is still full of prey but that said, Binks has not been so prolific, accounting for only two. The blackbirds outside are ever vigilant and their warning squawks are audible even above the roar of the traffic. In the country it is rabbits. On one visit he got a poor specimen that had myxamatosis; though not yet having developed the worst of the symptoms, its senses were clearly compromised. Binks had it by the scruff of the neck and dropped it when confronted on the immediate inside of the cat-flap. I suppose I should have put it out of its eventual misery but I just can't do that sort of thing, so I walked it across the common in a paper bag and released it. It was quite lost.
The next rabbit at close quarters was in even worse shape - on the grounds that it lacked a head. That morning the kitchen was a scene of carnage. There was the headless rabbit, a dead mouse and the attempts to eat the rabbit had caused the cat to throw up. It was just as well that we hadn't had breakfast. All this was deposited on the rug. He has a thing about rugs.
So, 2 rabbits and a mouse, before that the standard brace of mice/voles, one alive and one dead. I'm beginning to get concerned about my promise to go through and add up the prey.
Saturday 12 July 2003
Friday 9 May 2003
A few things to report
Another week in the country
That went very well - Binks settled down to being very much a rural cat. The weather (it was over Easter) was glorious and he spent most of it outside. The builders were next door but he has found a spot in the dell, a disused gravel pit to one side of the drive. This is always the spot that we thought he's inhabit. It is pretty much a wilderness in that it is virtually impossible for humans to reach it, so overgrown is it with gorse and bramble. Nevertheless there are spots of clear ground and rabbit runs are evident.
On the catches front, he had two voles, two mice (one of each survived) and a baby rabbit. The bunny was petrified but seemed to be unharmed but I'm not optimistic about its chances. I released it on the common and it hopped away but didn't seek cover - I have a feeling it was too young.
One thing; there is a lot of dry dusty ground around the house and Binks delights in rolling in it - he does this as soon as we arrive. What's he trying to do? Cover up his city cat scent? Is he happy to be there - it looks like it - or is he distressed?
Frank
I heard a squeak on the stairs. 'Oh no - he's got a bird'. Except he hadn't - he was on the landing with a dark marmalade cat.
Who naturally fled as soon as we approached. He was lost and bolted into the front room and proceeded to rush around, attempting mainly, to scale the book cases bring down small avalanches of books. He cowered. We got closer until he bolted out the door and ... up the stairs. Now it became a case of closing all the doors to rooms as we ascended until we had him cornered in the top of the house. More trashing the place. Eventually, he hid behind some stored furniture and sat on the radiator, panting and shaking.
I began to feel quite sorry for him. Some while back I remember the surgeon who fixed my shoulder having his hand in bandages. He had tried to get a feral cat out of his house and it had attacked him. The resulting wounds were infected and his hand blew up. His visit to casualty was 'the first time he had been in hospital' he said, fortunately he made a full recovery. Not thinking of that I tried to make friends and over a period of about 15 minutes, eventually he allowed me to pick him up. My guess is that he was once owned and is now living rough, he had lots of scars around his neck. When we got to the stairs he began to struggle and he rushed down with nowhere to go but out (the back door had been open). Binks was released and proceeded to sniff everywhere compulsively. He seemed to take it quite well.
'Frank'? I reckoned he was about the same colour as Frank Cooper's Oxford Marmalade. We saw him on the rooftops a few days later; he seemed to be quite friendly towards Binks - tail highish and with that lifting head behaviour that's usually seen between co-operative cats. Binks wasn't interested however and hunkered down so we thought it wise to make an appearance before a fight started.
Birds
He doesn't often catch birds - which is good. I feel much worse about them than rats and mice - even rabbits. But he had a blackbird a few days ago. This morning they were giving him the full works - the alarm call was being strident as Binks walked across next door's car park.
Another week in the country
That went very well - Binks settled down to being very much a rural cat. The weather (it was over Easter) was glorious and he spent most of it outside. The builders were next door but he has found a spot in the dell, a disused gravel pit to one side of the drive. This is always the spot that we thought he's inhabit. It is pretty much a wilderness in that it is virtually impossible for humans to reach it, so overgrown is it with gorse and bramble. Nevertheless there are spots of clear ground and rabbit runs are evident.
On the catches front, he had two voles, two mice (one of each survived) and a baby rabbit. The bunny was petrified but seemed to be unharmed but I'm not optimistic about its chances. I released it on the common and it hopped away but didn't seek cover - I have a feeling it was too young.
One thing; there is a lot of dry dusty ground around the house and Binks delights in rolling in it - he does this as soon as we arrive. What's he trying to do? Cover up his city cat scent? Is he happy to be there - it looks like it - or is he distressed?
Frank
I heard a squeak on the stairs. 'Oh no - he's got a bird'. Except he hadn't - he was on the landing with a dark marmalade cat.
Who naturally fled as soon as we approached. He was lost and bolted into the front room and proceeded to rush around, attempting mainly, to scale the book cases bring down small avalanches of books. He cowered. We got closer until he bolted out the door and ... up the stairs. Now it became a case of closing all the doors to rooms as we ascended until we had him cornered in the top of the house. More trashing the place. Eventually, he hid behind some stored furniture and sat on the radiator, panting and shaking.
I began to feel quite sorry for him. Some while back I remember the surgeon who fixed my shoulder having his hand in bandages. He had tried to get a feral cat out of his house and it had attacked him. The resulting wounds were infected and his hand blew up. His visit to casualty was 'the first time he had been in hospital' he said, fortunately he made a full recovery. Not thinking of that I tried to make friends and over a period of about 15 minutes, eventually he allowed me to pick him up. My guess is that he was once owned and is now living rough, he had lots of scars around his neck. When we got to the stairs he began to struggle and he rushed down with nowhere to go but out (the back door had been open). Binks was released and proceeded to sniff everywhere compulsively. He seemed to take it quite well.
'Frank'? I reckoned he was about the same colour as Frank Cooper's Oxford Marmalade. We saw him on the rooftops a few days later; he seemed to be quite friendly towards Binks - tail highish and with that lifting head behaviour that's usually seen between co-operative cats. Binks wasn't interested however and hunkered down so we thought it wise to make an appearance before a fight started.
Birds
He doesn't often catch birds - which is good. I feel much worse about them than rats and mice - even rabbits. But he had a blackbird a few days ago. This morning they were giving him the full works - the alarm call was being strident as Binks walked across next door's car park.
Tuesday 11 March 2003
Some time since the last post...
Happy to say nothing amiss. Several anniversaries to record. farthest back was Binks' first Christmas. We read that some huge proportion (85%?) of pet owners give presents to their animals over the festive period but we did not - does that make us bad?
Another potentially sentimental day passed more or less unremarked upon - January 6th, a year since his arrival. Amazing how that time has flown. All of us have settled down into mini routines and those, fractal-wise, comprised of smaller and smaller repeated and reinforced acts; fast and slow coming downstairs, the morning visit in the bathroom after breakfast, the vocal greetings, the foot biting in the morning. Once it seemed that all anecdotes belonged to the 'old' cats but now Binks has his own.
We did the annual visit to the vets too. That was more or less without incident. The scariest - though played down - was that he has the slightest of heart murmurs. In the complete absence of clinical signs (shortness of breath etc.) , we were told not to worry. He is very active and the vet did say that it might well go away. He got all the injections as usual and was given a worming tablet about which, rather sheepishly, we had to confess we'd done nothing.
He had been rather unforthcoming on the prey front recently but he celebrated two days after his vet's visit by catching, killing but not eating a rat. Not a very big one but as Jean was at home on her own, she was grateful it was dead. Prior to that we'd had two blank visits to the country; it's been pretty awful weather (though, of course, it never snowed while we were there) and it is most likely the mice and voles are hidden away. You have to go back as far as December to find a score (two, one alive, one dead and (ugh..) trodden on). One day I'll add all these up.
Happy to say nothing amiss. Several anniversaries to record. farthest back was Binks' first Christmas. We read that some huge proportion (85%?) of pet owners give presents to their animals over the festive period but we did not - does that make us bad?
Another potentially sentimental day passed more or less unremarked upon - January 6th, a year since his arrival. Amazing how that time has flown. All of us have settled down into mini routines and those, fractal-wise, comprised of smaller and smaller repeated and reinforced acts; fast and slow coming downstairs, the morning visit in the bathroom after breakfast, the vocal greetings, the foot biting in the morning. Once it seemed that all anecdotes belonged to the 'old' cats but now Binks has his own.
We did the annual visit to the vets too. That was more or less without incident. The scariest - though played down - was that he has the slightest of heart murmurs. In the complete absence of clinical signs (shortness of breath etc.) , we were told not to worry. He is very active and the vet did say that it might well go away. He got all the injections as usual and was given a worming tablet about which, rather sheepishly, we had to confess we'd done nothing.
He had been rather unforthcoming on the prey front recently but he celebrated two days after his vet's visit by catching, killing but not eating a rat. Not a very big one but as Jean was at home on her own, she was grateful it was dead. Prior to that we'd had two blank visits to the country; it's been pretty awful weather (though, of course, it never snowed while we were there) and it is most likely the mice and voles are hidden away. You have to go back as far as December to find a score (two, one alive, one dead and (ugh..) trodden on). One day I'll add all these up.
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