The Tough guy From Ottawa
My all too wise Canadian feral cat, Clancy,
On moving to Coastal Maine, the only creatures that seemed to get the edge on him were those frisky birds that found him wherever he hid in the woods. To him, it seemed magical that his stealthy moves were so easily detected by the scouting
It seemed to come to a head one afternoon when I couldn’t locate him for dinner. I was able to track him into the woods by the loud complaints of screaming birds. There he was in the middle of a small clearing, hissing and sputtering away as the birds comfortably hurled their birdy insults at him. I gathered him up and took him home for dinner; for once, he was quiet about being picked up. Of course, the bits of bacon on the top of the food helped soothe his upset a bit.
Clancy was not interested in hunting birds; he liked big game animals, chipmunks, squirrels, dogs, and the wayward human. But he did have a high internal sense of honor. Insult him once, and you have an enemy for life. Because he took offense quickly, he had a long list of enemies. To this list, he now added the neighborhood birds.
Time Passes
One morning, I was in the shop and noticed Clancy paying even more attention to the birds than usual. I had the wood stove burning to drive off the chill, and loving his creature comforts, I expected to see him tucked into the large sofa cushion that was his special place. But, no, he was just outside the shop with his tail lashing back and forth.
The frost touched the berries on the mountain ash tree and had set them to ferment. A number of the local birds were below the tree, behaving drunk. They staggered and stumbled; other birds seemed to think this behavior was hilarious. For Clancy, it was nothing less than the magical delivery of enemies into his paws.
Slowly, he stalked out of the shop, belly flat to the ground—ears laid back, tail lashing sinuously back and forth. Revenge is mine, saith the cat!
The Bird Turns
We are cautious not to tease him about this. Such things do not happen to large game hunting cats.
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I love that header photo of Clancy. He might have been a tough guy, but he sure was a cutie.
He was.
Clancy quickly realized he has it “made in the shade” at home, so its not worth challenging the drunk birds
It was safer to watch from a safe distance.
This was hilarious, Carver! I can actually see it occurring just as you described. Cats crack me up! Hugs
Oh how embarrassing for Clancy!
Of course he pretended nothing had happened.
Poor Clancy — great story!!!
Thank you!
Enjoyed reading about Clancy, Lou. We also ‘adopted’ a feral. Lucy is a large gal, very strong and cantankerous but she is the biggest baby I’ve ever seen! When she’s outside on the back deck, every little sound frightens her and she’ll be throwing herself against the door after five minutes to be let back in …. unless we’re out there with her. Then she’ll just hide under the table on the deck! The birds know about her nerves of clay and will sit on the deck railing making fun of her. It’s quite a site to see Lucy looking over her shoulder at the mocking birds while scratching on the back door, praying to be let in!
Lucy sounds like a love. They want to be bold and independent, but they love being cuddled too. Clancy disapproved of most tof the women in my life until I met my wife. Then it was sleeping on the pillow between us every night for security.
I love that story, Lou! I forgot to mention Lucy is a tabby, a pretty girl with gorgeous green eyes.
Have you featured Lucy in any of your posts?
I have, Lou. I’ll take a look.
Hard to believe this was almost 1 year ago. She went missing but returned home safely.
https://theelephantstrunk.org/2024/11/07/lost-cat/
It’s scary when they do stuff like that. Marcus is restricted from spending much time in the shop because he decides after a while that a little wander will be OK. They do unwise things, and we have to bail them out…if we can.
It sure is! Lucy is not an outdoor cat; she has access to the gated back deck only. That particular day we think something in the backyard got her attention and she managed to get to the top of the fence around the deck and jump off. Our neighbor eventually (1 1/2 days later) found her hiding under their barbecue cover so Bill went over and brought her home. She’s a PITA but she’s our PITA.
😆
Are the drunk birds like blokes staggering out of a night club, thinking they can take on anyone (including an apex predator)?
You got it!