Wednesday, April 28, 2010, 13:04
A Father's Duty
The other night I was just about ready to go to bed when I heard a menacing growl coming from outside the back door. The weather has been so mild through most of April that we have had the storm window open to let in fresh air. I could hear the growl quite clearly.
I was sure the growl was a cat, but it was unlike any growl I had ever heard before. The old tom cat, Squeak, has been patrolling the property because Little Sister has kittens in the barn, and I thought it was likely that Squeak was growling.
As I stepped out on the back porch, two cats streaked across the yard toward Charlie's rock. And then they were rolling on the ground in silent combat. All I could hear was the panting of their frenzied breathing. They were rolling so fast, it looked like one basketball-sized solid mass of cat.
I knew one of the cats was Squeak, who is black. The other cat was a tabby.
My heart tried to climb up into my throat. The only tabby around here is our little tabby Bobby-Cat. She was born in the barn 10 years ago to a stray cat who came here to have her babies. Bobby-Cat's mother was a real sweetheart, and I wish she had stayed. But the mother cat took all the babies out hunting one day, and Bobby was the only one to return. I try not to think about what might have happened to her mother and brothers and sister.
But why would Squeak attack Bobby-Cat? From what I can see, the two of them ignore each other around the yard, each going their separate ways without a second glance.
"Bobby. Is that you?" I said, heading across the yard.
Usually Bobby sleeps in the rocking chair at night in the living room, but sometimes she likes to go outside in the evening, and I honestly could not remember if I had seen Bobby-Cat in the house earlier.
The two fighting cats saw me as I approached, and the tabby took off with Squeak right behind. I followed them up the bank toward the road. Squeak saw me and, thinking I was after him, ran across the road and up into the big pines.
I looked around for the other cat but could not see anything. I went back in the house, and checked the rocking chair.
Bobby-Cat looked up at me sleepily, wondering why I had awakened her.
"Oh, good. It wasn't you," I said.
Which means that the other tabby must have been a tom cat.
A tom cat intent on getting to the barn to kill Little Sister's kittens. Tom cats do that, unfortunately. They kill kittens that are not theirs to bring the mother cat back into heat. All felines do this. Lions and tigers, too.
I have always known that Squeak takes his job seriously of patrolling the property when there are kittens in the barn. And in fact, the old tom has been going around on three feet lately because his one front paw is swollen and sore. When cats fight, one of the things they do is bite the feet of the other to disable their opponent.
I suppose Squeak's foot was bitten while he was defending his territory at some other time when I did not see or hear the fight. I have been giving Squeak liquid antibiotic to help his paw heal, and surprisingly enough, he has been very good about it. The can of canned kitty food I have been bringing to the barn as a treat for him has helped smooth the way, I think.
The next morning after the fight, I walked around the east side of the house by Charlie's rock and saw many tufts of hair on the ground. The fight had been deadly serious, indeed. Squeak had been in the barn earlier, ready for his kitty food and tolerating me squirting medicine in his mouth, apparently none the worse for his ordeal.
Later on, when the kittens come out of the nest and are ready to start eating solid food, they will be afraid of Squeak. I have seen it before. They cower and slink away from him, instinctively frightened of any tom cat. Squeak will go about eating calmly, not paying any attention to the kittens, and in time, they will stop being afraid of him and will bump and rub on his chin, the way they do with their mother.
The kittens have no way of knowing that all along, the tom cat of which they are so terrified has been fighting to protect them since the day they were born.
LeAnn R. Ralph
Saturday, April 24, 2010, 05:27
Quiet Clipping
So far I am really enjoying the reel mower we bought a few weeks ago. We have gotten it out a number of times to cut areas of the lawn that grow tall quickly first thing in the spring, such as over the drain field and in other spots. That's one thing about grass in the spring. It does not grow evenly.
The reel mower has a quiet, soothing whir. It's actually a relaxing sound, compared to the roar of a gasoline mower.
And it's so easy to get out of the lean-to. Pull it out and start cutting grass. I don't have to spend 10 minutes or 15 minutes wearing myself out, pulling on a cord to try to get the mower started. As long as I can walk forward, the reel mower cuts grass.
It does a pretty good job, too. Randy and I have determined that our goal is to keep the grass in the lawn from getting waist high (especially over the drain field). We don't care if it does not look like a golf course.
I am surprised, too, that you can actually get quite close to things with the reel mower. Sure, I will have some clipping to do with my grass shears. But who cares? That's a quiet, relaxing activity too. I can do the trimming around the lawn and hear the birds sing at the same time, instead of having some roaring thing I'm holding in my hands that drowns out all other sound and scares the birds away.
Another thing I like about the reel mower is that it does not spray grass all over the place, such as back on my legs and head and arms if it is windy outside. When I mow with a gasoline mower and it's windy, I might as well resign myself to the idea that I will be covered with bits of grass clippings from head to toe when I am ready to come inside.
I also do not have to put up with clouds of dust when I cross the driveway -- or feel like I am in a sand blaster -- as I do with the gasoline mower. And I don't have to worry about rocks and sticks being propelled out of the mower as if someone were using a catapult.
When I am finished, I simply push the reel mower back into the lean-to.
I think, because the reel mower is so easy to use, that we have cut parts of the lawn much earlier than we have in the past. It always seems like such a chore to get out a gasoline mower and get it started. By that time, a person sort of feels like he or she has to keep on with mowing just to make it "worth it" to go to all that trouble to get the thing started. And since you feel like you have to mow the whole lawn once you get the mower started, you end up spending a lot of time at it.
I don't feel that way with the reel mower. I can get it out, mow for 10 minutes, put it away and not feel like I have been shirking my duty.
Another advantage, in addition to being good exercise, is that the reel mower does not use one single, solitary drop of gasoline. No fumes from the mower. And no "foreign oil."
It's like they say: "What's old becomes new again." What a great idea to revive the manufacture of reel mowers.
LeAnn R. Ralph