Or, the adventures of a hapless blackbird.
After her daily dose of part-time office work The Mistress was looking forward to a nice afternoon in the company of the Cleaning Scourge. There would be some gossip being exchanged. There would certainly be some coo-ing over the kitties, who’ve grown again, and who are so irresistibly cute that the Cleaning Scourge simply can’t resist cuddling them on sight. There would also be the Scourge rendering the House of Chaos as clean as possible and performing some ironing. It would be a typical quiet Wednesday afternoon. Right ?
Wrong. At entering the House of Chaos the first thing one could notice was the ominous presence of black feathers. As in: lots of it. Black feathers in the hallway. Black feathers in the living room. Black feathers in the computer room, the kitchen and the veranda. Yup, black feathers everywhere. We even got some in the bathroom which is no mean feat if you know that its door is closed at all times. (I’ll leave you in on the secret though, I had to visit it real urgently and upon opening said door the draft blew some feathers into our smallest room. Pfeh.)
The culprit was not difficult to identify. Hrimnir was running and jumping and mewing for all he was worth in the kitchen, with Bean Sidhe, Franky and Frankette as mightily interested onlookers, and the object of his craving was obviously a small ball of feathers growing rapidly bald and emitting shrieks of displeasure, pain and fear. It was a blackbird. The Mighty Hunter had been successful again. But he clearly still lacks some skills regarding the aftermath of the Hunt though. The bird was still alive and panting hard. It was only when it tried to move that Hrimnir pounced him again and got himself a mouthful of feathers. But when it sat still the kitten soon grew bored and started to ignore it. The other 3 were just playing the appreciative audience, Bean Sidhe being too plainly lazy for such exertions, and the Frankensiblings probably too timid due to their age and size. Not that Hrimnir is much larger than they are, but then, we have noticed before that the Hrimmikins rarely abides by the Laws of Nature. Or Physics for that matter.
I have to let Nature run its course. I must not interfere with the hunting practices of my dearly beloved furballs. But when the bird was going to wreck my kitchen counter I could not help but act. I shooed the blackbird from the counter, only that provoked it to find some hitherto hidden last vestige of strength and fly straight for the top of the freezer. Which is too high for Hrimmikins to reach on his own. And thus again I meddled… by allowing Hrimnir to use me as a ladder and climb right up on the top of the freezer, much to the dismay of birdy of course, who set immediately for the top of a rolled-up curtain next to the door. And that left Hrimnir mrewing in frustration on the freezer.
He had no choice but jump down again, cross the kitchen sink counter, and station himself under the window where the bird had set up shop. Since there were no helpful steps, boards or mistresses around this time, he was forced to just sit there and howl his little head off at the offending avian. Who didn’t budge, smart bird that he was.
The 3 other kitties had assembled there as well, adding their loud complaints to the din. So there you had one howling Hrimnir, a Bean Sidhe throwing in his meows, and Franky and Frankette contributing with their high-pitched mews. It really was a cat-a-phony. Lovely though.
But basically, what all 4 of them were shouting was the feline equivalent of: “Burdie ! Come on down ! We wants to talk with you !” And equally basically, what the bird was answering was a huge virtual middle talon.
The Cleaning Scourge is a real sweet-heart. She just couldn’t stand hearing the bird’s shrieks and frantic flutters as our furry friends were chasing it once more throughout the House of Chaos. So, when it ultimately was forced to leave its lofty perch and ended up huddling on the floor against the staircase in the hallway, she called me and begged me to take action. “No, I couldn’t kill the poor animal, please save it.”” No, I had to rescue it, absolutely.” “No, she was afraid of it so could I please take it away from her ?” “And was that blood on the cloth ?” “EEEKK !!!”
Ah well, the only thing I could do was pick up a cloth, trap the poor bird in it, pick it up, and carry it to safer environs.
But safer environs are not easily found in or about the House of Chaos, especially for one of the feathered kind, and thus I did what I usually do… I threw it out into the Garden of Chaos and wished it the best of luck.
Did I mention that Loup-Garou and Zorro were lounging in the Garden of Chaos ?
And that they, at almost 10 years of age, are excellent hunters ?
Rest in pieces Burdie.
Picture below:
All 4 of the youngsters eagerly awaiting the descent of the avian visitor. Who had no intention whatsoever to come down at all.
Notice the black stuff on the floor ? Them’s feathers.
Surely there’s more fun to be had on the Friday Ark (every Friday) or the Carnival of the Cats (every Sunday) ?
House of Chaos 