Midnight, the Cat 1994

It was early morning and we were in our usual places on the sun porch, when the show began and what a spectacular show of nature we witnessed.

The 15-foot-tall stump, just outside the window, was the stage.  Enter Midnight —  our beautiful black mama cat – with her long bushy tail. The cats often climb the stump hoping to catch a bird, and Midnight gracefully climbed to a flat spot at the base of a sawed-off limb and crouched down for her wait.

The wind was quite gusty and we feared she might even be dislodged, but she had no such thought.  Showing her impatience, she began to climb higher.  This old sump is hollow, at least part way, and it can only be entered at the highest point.  Earlier we had regrettably watched several Starlings as they investigated the opening for their nest, and the starling is certainly not our favorite bird.

In fact, we hate Starlings and Sparrows because they occupy the gourds and apartment house we provide for the beneficial Purple Martins.  The Martins many times send out their scouts in mid-February; however, as of this writing we have not seen one.  (March 3)

With her glossy, black fur furiously blowing in the wind Midnight decided to carefully crawl around a stub of a limb and enter the  hollow stump.  About that time the prospective victims saw what was happening and such an attack we had never seen before.

The birds flew at Midnight in droves or coveys, or whatever, but she continued on her way.  When she stopped we could only see the top of her tail.  Surely at the very first of March there are no young biards in there — I wouldn’t think there would even be eggs at this point, but something of interest kept the cat busy and she kept the birds busy.

Apparently, this is not the first time Midnight has been in the cavity, and when she emerged she did so with much caution, as though she expected he worst.  The birds by now were  lined up on the electric wires chattering away at the happenings.  We saw no sign of her finding breakfast this morning, but wouldn’t really care if she did help wipe out these pests.

Without incident, Midnight’s descent was much faster than her ascent – she jumped the last several feet, but as cats always do, she landed on her feet, and the curtain was closed on this performance.

As in a three-ring circus, our attention was quickly drawn in another arena – this time it was the hay ring where one of the smaller heifers decided pickings would be better on the inside of the ring. She maneuvered herself to the center so she could eat undisturbed. When John bought these two white heifers, we tried to come up with an appropaiate name and and for some reason the “Brown” girls (such ladies lived in Crossville many years ago), came to mind.  So we named these heifers Pearl and Frannie (pronounced as though it rhymes with rainy) after the girls of old by the name of Brown. Then in order to give the right heifer the right name, we had to ask some old-timers who ws amaller — Pearl or Frannie.  The Brown sisters attended Crossville Methodist Church and during our inquiry we heard some great stories of their eccentricities, sinking spells and so forth. There’s nothing to compare with country living.

 

Without incid