Saturday, May 07, 2005, 13:58
As Busy as a Cat with Kittens (Wait a Minute! She *is* a Cat with Kittens!)
Our wild black momma kitty had her kittens last Friday. Three of them. At least, I think there's only three. I was able to peek down into the nest, and as closely as I could make out, there's one gray and two black kittens.
Out of all the kittens she has had so far, I must say that at first, this was the noisiest bunch.
When I went down to the barn Friday night to give my horse more hay before I went to bed, I knew the kittens had been born because I could hear them. I hadn't seen the mother cat all day, and as soon as I walked in the barn, she came out of her nest, looking for kitty food. I generally only put out cat food when the barn cats are there. I have learned from experience that if I leave cat food out all the time, it attracts raccoons. I don't mind feeding the kitty cats. I *do* mind feeding the raccoons, especially since they make such a muddy mess in the water bucket and the water dishes.
As I put cat food in the dish, a kitten began screaming at the top of its lungs, in just the way that the two kittens I rescued last year at the end of April (Rocky and Juliette) had been screaming at the top of their lungs.
Great. Wouldn't you know it? One of the kittens had fallen out of the nest.
I shined the flashlight by the stack of hay, but I couldn't see the kitten. I could hear it but I couldn't see it. I surmised that the kitten had been nursing when Momma Kitty stood up and that she inadvertently dragged it out of the nest with her.
As I stood there, wondering what I was going to do about the situation, suddenly, the sound of the kitten's cries became more muffled. Then the other ones started up. The mother cat, thank goodness, had picked up her kitten and had taken it back to the nest. I put out kitty food and assumed she would eat when her kittens had settled down.
Apparently, the kittens did not settle down because when I came back out to the barn the next morning, the kitty food had not been touched. By this time, of course, the mother cat was very hungry.
Once again when I walked in the barn, Momma Kitty came out of the nest. But as soon as she left her kittens, they started crying. She went over to the food dish, ate two pieces, couldn't stand it anymore and hurried back to check on her kittens. She went into the nest with them. They stopped crying. A few minutes later she left the nest. Kittens started crying. She grabbed two pieces of food. Couldn't stand it anymore. Hurried back to her kittens. They stopped crying.
I don't know how many times she went back and forth between the food dish and her nest, but I do know she did not get enough to eat. I tried putting the food dish close to her nest, but she wasn't used to eating there and wouldn't touch it.
On Sunday, the kittens weren't quite as noisy, I noticed, and Momma Kitty was able to eat -- oh -- maybe -- five or six pieces of food at a time before she was compelled to go back to the nest to check on her babies.
If it hadn't been for the fact that Momma Kitty hadn't had much to eat since Thursday, the situation would have been almost funny. I could see how torn she was between eating and going back to check on her children, even though she had only left them a minute ago. Every time the poor cat tried to eat a couple of bites, when the kittens started crying, it was as if an invisible rope was physically drawing her back to her nest. And in a way, I suppose it was an invisible rope -- or -- if not a rope, a silken cord -- or perhaps even a silver thread -- a "something" that all mothers can feel.
I will be the first to admit that over the past five years, Momma Kitty and I have had an uneasy relationship. I am perfectly willing to be friends. She is not. I don't know where she came from. I only know that she was nothing more than a kitten herself when she arrived in my barn. She has hissed at me more times than I can count. She has slashed my hand with her razor sharp claws when I have been putting out food. And once, when she had brought a rabbit into the barn for her kittens, and Charlie thought *he* should have the rabbit, she launched herself at my leg and clung there, hissing and growling (as if I had something to do with the dog wanting her rabbit) (thank goodness I was wearing jeans and not shorts!).
Momma Kitty's defensiveness, I am coming to realize, is her best way of protecting herself. But not so much protecting herself for herself. Protecting herself for her kittens. I have noticed that she is much more defensive when she has small kittens in the barn than she is when the kittens are bigger or after the kittens have gone to homes of their own.
The plain and simple truth is that Momma Kitty protects herself so she can protect and care for her kittens. At times, when she's hissing at me or hissing at the dog -- and she's hurrying back and forth between the food dish and her nest -- it just means she's just a little bit busier than other cats with kittens. . .
LeAnn R. Ralph
Friday, May 06, 2005, 20:38
Karner Blues
The other night when Randy and I went for a walk along the dirt road north of our house, we saw our first Karner Blue butterfly of the season.
I am always thrilled to see a Karner Blue because, after all, it is not every day that an endangered species flits across my path.
Karner Blues are tiny blue butterflies that are exactly the same color as the blue flowers of the lupine plants that are their habitat. And the highest population of Karner Blues in the *world* is right here in the county where we live.
Sometimes when I am down at the barn, a Karner Blue will stop by to find moisture in the mud near the barn door. Sometimes I will see a Karner Blue in the backyard. And often, after the Karner Blues are more active, I will come across little flocks of them when I walk along the dirt road.
I grew up seeing Karner Blue butterflies but didn't think a thing of it. I had no idea they were so rare. I always regarded them as enchanting little butterflies -- and they really are quite small, only about the size of the tip of my finger -- but I never knew beyond that why or how they were so unusual. It was only later on that I discovered they are rare and that the lupine plants are their only habitat.
In a few weeks, the lupine will be in bloom. The lupine plants favor sunny hillsides, and the biggest patch of it near my house is on the steep powerline right-of-way across the road. When the lupine blooms, the hillside is blue with color.
The lupine flowers are so pretty that I am tempted to pick them and put them into a bouquet. Then I remember the Karner Blue butterflies need the flowers to help them survive, and the temptation passes. It is enough to see the blue flowers on the hillside -- and to know that because the lupine plants are there, the Karner Blues will still visit my yard.
LeAnn R. Ralph
P.S. If you would like to comment on this blog entry, click on the "comment" link and scroll to the bottom of the page.