Feeding Frenzy

Since early July we have a feeding frenzy in our yard. Most of the resident birds--chipping and house sparrows, baltimore orioles, barn swallows, blue birds, mockingbirds, house finches, starlings, robins, grackles and red-winged blackbirds-- are protecting and feeding their young. I could spend hours watching them. 

The fledglings, who can fly only short distances, can't yet feed themselves even though they are out of the nest. Each species has a different method. Some are ground feeders, while some feed on the wires or in the trees.  But all of the fledglings, who chirp for their parents and flutter their wings, have one thing in common:  They are hungry! And the feeding is a non-stop activity for the parents.

They are an awkward bunch, with tufts of down on their heads and yellow, lipstick-like lined mouths, as they vie for their parents' attention. Watching the young barn swallows at eye-level from the upstairs hall window, feeding happens in a flash of wing and a blink of an eye, their parents arriving swiftly like Jedi fighters from the fields beyond.

Our two curious kittens - Joe (aka Secret Agent Man) and Pip are working non-stop climbing trees, hiding in bushes, and crouching under the cars, preying on the weakest and slowest. Unfortunately, they are often successful even as they duck and flinch in defense of the barn swallows who dive-bomb them while they walk in the open.

Last year while sweeping the front porch, I accidentally bumped a robin's nest. Startled, a small robin flapped and flapped in a weak effort to fly only to fall to the porch with a thump. He hopped into the shrubs. I managed to catch him and place him high in a denser shrub, only to watch him tumble to the ground several times. By this time I've got our big cat's attention. Shoot. I tucked him tightly between some branches and went back to my work. It happened again (where is my brain?). Sweep. ACK! Flap. Thump. Hop. This one I couldn't find and I felt terrible. About an hour later I see the cat chasing the small fledgling in the yard. Broom in hand, I swatted at the cat while trying to grab the bird, its parents squawking and diving at me all the while. It was sad and comical at the same time, and I never did know what finally happened to the two small birds. 

The female returned this year and built a nest in the exact same spot again and had two broods. Can you believe I almost did the same thing with the broom again? Twice?

Never a dull moment here.
 

What's cuter than kittens?

About a month or so ago, Kevin was out of town, and I was changing over the rooms after breakfast and checkout. I heard a truck in the driveway, and I reached the window in time to see it pull out onto the road and read the business name on side panel. That's the guy who stopped in about week earlier inquiring about a reservation, and we got to talking about kittens. He said he had a few ferals he was trying to place in good homes. We said we would think about maybe taking one.

Then it hit me. I ran down the steps, flew open the kitchen door and there it was: A small pet carrier with his business card taped to the top. I peeked through the cage door and I see not one kitten, but two, hissing and terrified. It's 95 degrees outside. I've got a full day of baking and cleaning ahead of me, and he dropped off two kittens. Momentarily overwhelmed, I did the only thing I could manage.  I carried them into the barn, unlatched the carrier door, and walked out.

That evening, the kittens were nowhere to be found but I put some water and food out for them. All that night and the next I could hear their mews echoing from the barn. By the time Kevin arrived home, the mewing had stopped, and we saw no sign of them for days. I felt awful.

At the end of the week, however, I arrive home from work to find both kittens sitting under the truck. Hungry and frightened, they would run and hide whenever we approached, or peek out from behind a stack of wood. Slowly we got them to come out for food. Everyday they got more courageous, running around in the yard, chasing bugs, and getting closer and closer to us. One day we woke to find them on the kitchen porch, peeking into the windows and waiting to be fed. I don't think they have been into the barn since! Ever curious, scrambling around, and climbing the trees, they are a bundle of fun. We've named them Pip and Joe. 

Our adult cat, Squatter, has adapted so well. She tolerates their adolescent antics. She shares her food with them, including freshly caught field mice and moles. She'll carry her prey into the yard, make a fuss to get their attention, drop it onto the ground, and step aside. The kittens oblige by snatching it and scampering away. I can only suppose that she is teaching them to hunt like good barn cats--good girl!

I could fritter away the hours watching Pip and Joe explore their new world, wrestling and pouncing, hiding and climbing. They make me laugh, and that's a good thing. I mean, what's cuter than kittens?