I know you're all dying to know what's been going on with the wild and semi-wildlife in my backyard. Aren't you? **crickets chirping** Yeah, that's what I thought.
Well, it appears that McBeady's trust in me has been forever scarred. He just can't seem to get past whatever little bug is up his butt. Sometimes he'll let me pet him very briefly, but mostly he just acts like he thinks at any moment that I'm going to turn into some sort of cat-killing monster. I'm not, McBeady, I'm not! I haven't even discussed removing your balls lately! I just want you to love me again. (God, I'm pathetic.) Dolly is still sweet, but whatever it is that she does during the daylight hours, she's been extra-busy doing it. She's often gone before I get outside in the morning, and doesn't return until well after dark. I hope they're paying her overtime.
McBeady disappeared completely for several days this week--I assume he was dancing attendance on some fine young pussy (what?) somewhere. (We are well into kitten season , you know. Thank god Dolly is immune from all that now.) Yesterday he spent quite a bit of time in his "cave"--I thought he was probably just exhausted from his adventures, but then I realized that he was actually cowering in fear--and not from me. An aggressive pair of bluejays moved into the area late last summer (what IS this neighborhood coming to?) and they were giving poor McBeady holy hell every time he tried to move. The poor thing spent several hours curled up behind my neighbor's A/C unit, trying to will himself invisible to the dive-bombing jays. I figured they must have a nest somewhere close by--like bluejays need any reason to be mean, playground bullies of the avian world that they are.
Last night my neighbor's dogs were going crazy in the backyard, so Pudge and I decided we'd better go investigate. Oops! Baby bluejays everywhere! I found three little fledglings of slightly different sizes, stumbling around the yard, while Mom and Pop flew overhead screeching. I don't know if they were quite ready to fledge, or if the wind blew them down, but down they were. I figured they'd have a better chance in the yard behind me--no dogs there, and plenty of high weeds to hide in--so I gently passed them through the fence, and hoped for the best.
Well, of course, when I went out this morning, both McBeady and Dolly were waiting for breakfast (the first time in several days), and on the ground near them was a dead baby bluejay, the smallest of the three. Awwww....I know cute baby bluejays grow up to be nasty adult bluejays, but nonetheless, who wants to see a dead baby ANYthing first thing in the morning? I hope the other two are okay; the parents seemed quite distressed, screeching away in the trees.
I know...it's the circle of life, and let's all hold hands and sing a Disney tune about it, but in the movies, you never see the poor sap who has to pick up the dead baby bird, do you? Hopefully all the baby birds will be fledged soon, and off to bird college, or bird vo-tech, or maybe working as a cashier in a bird convenience store (no judgment), and then I can get back to cringing when the robins fly by with particularly juicy worms writhing in their beaks. Ew....
Yeah, maybe I should just stay inside.