|Baxter's Continuing Expoits
||[Apr. 20th, 2016|09:57 pm]
We came back this evening to a few feathers scattered on the rug, which is always suspicious, but our cat is a free spirit, and as long as he doesn't leave too much of a mess, what he devours is his business.|
But of course it wasn't just feathers, otherwise why would I be writing about it, right?
At like 9pm, I hear the dreaded fluttering noise that means a live bird is in the corner of the living room behind the shelves. So I close Baxter in the bedroom,* grab a bowl and a file folder, and crack my knuckles, wondering what we've got this time.
Turns out it was a blue jay! Which, I don't know if you've ever seen a blue jay up close, but they're big. And this one wasn't able to fly, but it was still feisty and had an alarmingly sharp-looking beak. I'd just mentioned a week or two before that I didn't think Baxter would ever nab a blue jay.
Nate looked at me as I went back to the kitchen, and I explained, "I'm gonna need a bigger bowl."
He nodded and went back to playing Skyrim.
I always feel weird when I put a wounded animal back out in the yard. Like, maybe if you're a lizard you can camouflage and have a slow metabolism and pull through. But if you're a big grumpy blue jay who can't fly, what are your odds of making it until your wing heals? Heck, what are the odds of making it through the night? Probably not great. But let's be honest, I'm not going to call the wildlife rescue people for every bird and lizard that the cat brings in. And I don't have the guts to euthanize a blue jay—a small fish, yes, but not a squirming wild bird. Which, so, like, do I have any business eating chicken then? If I can't mercy-kill a songbird? I think the difference has something to do with wild versus domestic, and I don't feel comfortable making that call with a random wild animal. But maybe that's just me making excuses because I don't want to do nature's dirty work or...
Nate patiently listened to me talk about this for a few minutes. Then I remembered that I should probably let Baxter back out of the bedroom. He was sad as usual that I had taken away his new toy. I told him it was for his own good, a blue jay could probably mess him up if he wasn't careful. I also told him I was impressed, but never bring one of those in the house again.
*- He's now so familiar with this routine that he doesn't protest, he just immediately goes under the bed to sulk when I set him down.