The week before NN10 was a glorious time for me. I took the train to see my friend J. (who can identify herself in comments should she choose to do so) and frolicked in the high desert of Colorado. My days were spent reading and relaxing on the screened porch or poking around in her lovely garden, my nights spent taking fuzzy pictures of the sunset from the Grand Mesa or gleefully hopping around Momuments National Park in the semi-darkness taking fuzzy photos of, well, everything. J. aided and abetted all of this, for which I'm eternally grateful.
Shortly after arrival, after I'd paid homage to the dog of the manor, I noticed a couple of bags of catfood and a pan with catfood food in it. I cast an inquiring eye at J. who immediately responded to my look by stating, "I don't like cats." This, IMHO, required further explanation, and so it was that I came to hear the tale of the wild cats.
One sunny afternoon J. was working in her garden when out of nowhere a mottling of gray and yellow leapt out of the plants and commenced spitting and flailing about. J. was understandably taken aback, but after regaining her composure and looking more closely she spotted the cause of attack. Two tiny, yellow balls were tucked in amongst her garden plants. While these little balls looked to be relatively healthy, the whirling dervish did not. She was dangerously thin and tattered. Not a cat person and not looking to become one, J. nevertheless was worried about these lonely little beasts. And so the feedings began.
As the feedings continued and the mother cat became more healthy, it became clear that she'd had previous dealings with humans, some good and some bad. She would occasionally submit to an extended hand and would emit a weak purring at the contact, but the look on her face and her stance was one of fear. One could make an educated guess that Little Mama had once been someone's pet and had either been mistreated or was booted out on her own to face the wrath of other, less kindly humans. And so she'd found her way to this lovely garden to this kindly woman who "doesn't like cats," yet feels compelled to care for these abandoned creatures, to give her and her offspring nourishment and the hope of affection.
And so it came to pass that after a lovely twilight spent taking fuzzy sunset pictures on "the Hill" I found myself sitting on the flat rocks that make up J.'s patio in the dark at midnight, with the porch light on behind me in an effort to gain some meaningful illumination, using one knee as a tripod in the hope that I might get a shot or two of these illusive, wild creatures. What follows are the results of that adventure.
This fuzzy photo sets the scene. Beneath and slightly behind the hanging chair is a fire ring, which is something of a safety zone. To the right and out of the picture is a bush that constitutes home for our little trio. If you look closely under the hanging chair you'll see a fuzzy yellow ball. That would be the male kitten, the one I call Cocky.
Nothing much happens for a few minutes. Cocky holds his ground but doesn't approach. Then suddenly there are streaks of color coming towards the bowl.
Mama comes to check out the situation. She's not at all happy to see this new creature sitting on the ground, but J.'s presence is reassuring. Mama retreats as fast as she came, and the little ones follow to discuss the next plan of action.
Mama says "it's okay, I'm watching, go have a bite" and so the young ones creep back to the bowl. They're hungry, after all.
It was at this point that I decided I could try the flash. After all, I was hoping for some photos that weren't just streaky ghosts, and despite the porch light behind me, the shutter on the camera was not picking up much light. There was no way that I was going to get much clarity with the shutter open that long. But the flash had the expected effect and while Cocky tried to hold his ground...
...the little female that I call Shyness fled to the safety of the Holy Circle of the Water Gods...
...and was immediately joined by Mama.
You can see Mama's eyes widen as she realizes where the lightening is coming from.
Cocky seems to feel that eating is more important than worrying about the flashing lady and continues to chow down for a bit longer.
But Mama is decidedly not happy with his behavior and she calls him back. At first he tries to act nonchalant about it, going about the business of washing his face, but you can see that Mama is NOT happy with his lack of caution.
She calls him in to have a close chat about his dangerous behavior...
...and Shyness joins the conversation as they discuss the magnitude of the threat posed by flashing lady and just how hungry they are.
Cocky finally persuades Mama that he can't stand it a moment longer and she relents, but not without her there to make sure that there are no shenanigans from that flashing woman...
...and the itteh bitteh feeding frenzy begins.
Mama says to J. "lovely evening, isn't it?"
And to me, "I'm still keeping an eye on you, Flashy!"
And the little ones keep on eating and eating and eating...
...until Shyness is full as a tick. Shyness and Mama are very close at this point in time, and so Mama escorts her back to the Holy Circle of the Water Gods.
But Cocky, who is, well, cocky, decides he's just fine on his own, thank you very much. That milk looks refreshing, maybe he'll give it a try...
...and once he's taken the top off that milk he offers a thankful look at J.
Finally, full as tick himself, he returns to the Holy Circle of the Water Gods. But where is everybody? "Come out, guys, this isn't funny!"
But the joke is on him as Shyness is plotting on him.
He plots back...
...and they briefly plot on each other...
...before deciding that they're just too full for plotting and it's time to get down to some serious bathing. All under the watchful eye of Mama.
And now, after the little ones have been fed and bathed and settled into their safe spot, it's finally Mama's turn at the bowl.
Shyness, never comfortable unless she's near her mother, creeps back and Mama says "are you still hungry? Join me at the bowl."
But then J. reaches out her hand tentatively to see if Mama will allow her to touch her today. The effect is something like reaching out a hand filled with garlic, a crucifix and holy water towards a vampire...
...and Shyness is once again heading for the Holy Circle of the Water Gods.
But Mama doesn't flee. As I said, she's let J. touch her before. She worries for her little ones, but not so much for herself. She returns to the business of eating, knowing that this kindness is a gift she must take while she can.
As she wolfs down that dry food as fast as she can, she sometimes pauses and looks at J. It looks to me like she's acknowledging the warm heart of the nice lady who doesn't like cats (she doesn't believe it any more than I do)...
...and then she returns to eating while she can. Mama's learned to depend on to grudgingly accept the kindness of strangers.
And when she's done, as the little ones rest with fully stomachs in safety...
...she melts away into the darkness. She's gone so fast that there's not even a streak in the darkness. And then the little ones are gone, too, not to be seen until the next night when the bowl is returned to it's familiar resting spot by the kind lady who doesn't like cats.
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It's been a little over a month since I left the high desert. J. tells me that the weaning process is complete, and that she thinks it was painful for all involved. The little ones are still coming to the bowl, but they resist J.'s advances. Mama still comes around, too, although infrequently. What this tells me is that Mama took her babies and left them with the nice lady when the time came, as she could think of nothing safer to do with her offspring. And no doubt she will return when she breeds again. But J.'s plan is to trap them all before the breeding again commences, take them to the vet and have them spayed and neutered, and then she can release them. And no doubt continue to feed them. Although she doesn't like cats. ;-)