Someone is killing the feral barn cats with poison. Obviously, it's being done by clueless folk who have moved here to escape the city. What they don't realize is that the feral cats are essential to keep down the rat population.
Last year, a tiny, rambunctious kitten named Gollum came home from exploring and dropped dead near the feeding area.
Before he was taken away for burial, all of the other cats touched him with a paw, one at a time, to say goodbye. That fluffball of sweetness was loved by all, except his murderer.
Yesterday, a turkey vulture was seen feasting on one of our ferals who died in the bean field on his way home from wherever he was poisoned. After devouring his corpse, that vulture will likely die also.
Earlier this week, another cat was found dead in the same field. Feral cats don't have long lives, it's the nature of the beast - Nature does its thing. It doesn't help that they're also smashed into by transport trucks racing down the nearby 2 lane road. If they're able to, they try to cross through the ditch to get to the house for medical aid, but most don't make it that far. Their broken bodies are found on the front lawn.
In the deep freeze of winter, the grey cat named Velvet was found frozen to death - she hadn't made it to shelter in time. She had needed treatment in the summer for a severe eye infection.
Last year, my beloved Harry went on walkabout and never returned.
Shortly after giving birth, Blackie brought one of her kittens to the door because it was ailing. It had a hole in its chest and didn't survive. She mourned him for weeks and neglected its sibling. Another cat mum took on the care and feeding of him. His name is Silky, because his fur feels like cashmere.
The cats in this yard don't kill birds. They're good hunters, but only when it comes to vermin.
They have warm shelters, food and fresh water every day. They are cared for and cherished.
The lost little ones will not be forgotten.
RIP, my friends.
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©Ellen Pepper 2023
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