Farm Friday is here again. I don’t think I have ever mentioned a very important part of our little farm – an evil necessity. Yes, I mean barn cats.
It’s no secret that I am not fond of cats. Their penchant for walking on areas where I eat and their obvious desire to take over the world gives me the chills. We will probably never be friends, but I do have an appreciation for their talent of keeping the mouse population away from the hen house. And the human house. They do great work.
That is the job of a barn cat and mine do it very well, even though they have personalities of sour grapes.
At the moment we have a pair of sisters named Shakira and Beyonce. (Named simply because we thought it would be amusing to walk outside and holler for Shakira and Beyonce. Our neighbors already think we are weird so why not? Alas, the cats have not learned their names so what a waste of creativity)
So these cats. They are weird. I can’t really explain it but even my kids say “those cats are just odd”. Their personalities range from looking confused to just plain pissy. So pleasant #not.
They are picky eaters. They kill plenty of mice, snakes, squirrels, wild rabbits, and sparrows but they don’t eat them. They just play with the carcasses. So gross.
They WILL eat only ONE kind of catfood, and will only eat it until they can see the bottom of their dish. Then there must be a refill or they will reign hell on my day, stalking me from the outside of the house going from window to window, scraping their claws on the glass until I relent and refill. I don’t think they appreciate how lucky they are that I bend to their will.
I’m guessing that is what brought on this morning’s antics.
I ran out to check on the rabbits and do a quick feed while my daughter was getting ready to catch the school bus. We have mama rabbits due any minute and I wanted to make sure they had nesting supplies.
Mama rabbit, furiously nest-building this morning:
So I’m out there, handing out straw and trying to snap some photos so that we have a breeding record for the 4-H books, when I hear this slow, creepy walking right above my head, back and forth on the translucent plexi-roof. I could see the shape of a large creature through it – but it isn’t clear so I’m not sure what kind of creature.
My heart started beating fast. Why? Because we have had critter issues lately with possums and raccoons. Ack! I don’t have my pitchfork. (that’s my best weapon in a pinch)
And then I hear “meep”
Yes, “meep”. Because these weirdo cats never figured out “meow” like a proper kitty. They really make me miss my old tomcat Linus who made incredible noises and would talk all day to me.
I look up and see this crazed, angry jungle cat ready to pounce on my head:
That is her normal countenance. I wan’t quick enough to catch her angry face. I guess this is their new tactic to
give me a heart attack and take over the property get me to fill the food dishes faster.
So there ya have it. I’m not a “cat person” but I do need them around. We have an understanding that I will feed them on demand and they will provide their services and they even go as far as respecting the rabbits and chickens.
Our farm motto should be “Whatever Works” because that is usually the way things go here.
*lest anyone be alarmed, our cats are spayed and have plenty of nice warm areas to stay during winter. They are fat and sassy and would never be happy indoors. Wild and free is the way they like to be.