All went very well with my Jake tour of duty - he was his normal affectionate, playful, hungry, pooping, peeing jock-like self every time I checked in. My visits to my vacationing friends' three-year old indoor cat, Jake, were by 9 am every morning, so I had to fill their backyard stray's food and water early. Apparently this outside cat comes around dinnertime, so I never saw Bella, as she's been named.
Yesterday, I noticed as I was checking all the door locks just before leaving, that something had gotten into Bella's food bowl in the twenty minutes since I'd filled the empty container. It appeared as if a visitor had made a running leap into the table-top bowl as there was an impact crater-like depression and scattered bits of kibble about. Who did this? Another cat, a roof rat, a bird? I needed to find out, but as I was running late for that day's other appointments, it would have to wait until tomorrow. But my bet was on the starlings: the noisy city birds that populate every green space in town.
So today after tending to Jake's diet and hygiene, and refilling Bella's food and water, I relocated Jake's playtime to the master bedroom where I'd have a clear view of the backyard's goings-on. My suspicion was still pointing to the starlings because there were indeed several clamoring in the fig tree this morning when I had served that evening's supper. But from the bedroom I quickly saw a curve-billed thrasher glide from the back wall to the lip of the bowl; he briefly poked at the food and absconded with a morsel. He was the kibble crasher! But his laser-like precision hardly came close to creating the previous day's mess. Hmm, I'd have to wait this out with more Jake playtime.
By this point, the cat was as interested in the patio's activity as I was. Jake positioned himself stealth-fully below the French door's window, splaying his ears so just the edges of his eyes peered outside. And just like me, he focused on a pair of Abert's towhees that had entered the garden.
Could these birds be Bella's meal-crashers? I thought not, as they are very mild-mannered seed-eaters that carefully pick through my own backyard's garden. But soon the pair separated and one landed on the Dixie-cup paper bowl and flicked out a piece of Purina that apparently didn't please him. Then he hopped on the patio with another morsel in his mouth and proceeded to break it into peck-able specks. He didn't really create much of a mess on the table; where are those noisy starlings?
I had started to check the house and Jake's well-being before calling it a visit when I decided to peer through the living room Arcadia doors one last time. The towhee was still exploring the patio while his mate rummaged in the brush near the back wall. All of a sudden the nearest towhee leaped onto the table and then plopped into the bowl. Splat! Like the species does in the desert's dirty undergrowth, he scratched about sending Bella's food in every direction.
Yesterday, I noticed as I was checking all the door locks just before leaving, that something had gotten into Bella's food bowl in the twenty minutes since I'd filled the empty container. It appeared as if a visitor had made a running leap into the table-top bowl as there was an impact crater-like depression and scattered bits of kibble about. Who did this? Another cat, a roof rat, a bird? I needed to find out, but as I was running late for that day's other appointments, it would have to wait until tomorrow. But my bet was on the starlings: the noisy city birds that populate every green space in town.
So today after tending to Jake's diet and hygiene, and refilling Bella's food and water, I relocated Jake's playtime to the master bedroom where I'd have a clear view of the backyard's goings-on. My suspicion was still pointing to the starlings because there were indeed several clamoring in the fig tree this morning when I had served that evening's supper. But from the bedroom I quickly saw a curve-billed thrasher glide from the back wall to the lip of the bowl; he briefly poked at the food and absconded with a morsel. He was the kibble crasher! But his laser-like precision hardly came close to creating the previous day's mess. Hmm, I'd have to wait this out with more Jake playtime.
By this point, the cat was as interested in the patio's activity as I was. Jake positioned himself stealth-fully below the French door's window, splaying his ears so just the edges of his eyes peered outside. And just like me, he focused on a pair of Abert's towhees that had entered the garden.
Could these birds be Bella's meal-crashers? I thought not, as they are very mild-mannered seed-eaters that carefully pick through my own backyard's garden. But soon the pair separated and one landed on the Dixie-cup paper bowl and flicked out a piece of Purina that apparently didn't please him. Then he hopped on the patio with another morsel in his mouth and proceeded to break it into peck-able specks. He didn't really create much of a mess on the table; where are those noisy starlings?
I had started to check the house and Jake's well-being before calling it a visit when I decided to peer through the living room Arcadia doors one last time. The towhee was still exploring the patio while his mate rummaged in the brush near the back wall. All of a sudden the nearest towhee leaped onto the table and then plopped into the bowl. Splat! Like the species does in the desert's dirty undergrowth, he scratched about sending Bella's food in every direction.
Aha, Messy Marvin was discovered! However after a quick scratch-and-sniff, so to speak, the towhee joined his partner in the weeds in search of tastier seeds. So that night's dinner was safe from scavengers, for now ... a clamorous flock of house finches had just arrived at the scene of the crime. Accomplices?
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