The Wild Cat Who Won A Million Part 6

“Logos” by Ludovico Einaudi (courtesy of Path of Healing):

 

Courtesy of The Dodo:

It was true, lately Freddie had shown clear signs of his growing attachment by following me around when he was at home. He also lost some of his cool indifferent manner and wailed pitifully downstairs every time I fed the little hedgehog, Gaby, on the top landing. Although this was a long established, twice-daily routine,  he would even run up and down the stairs, frantically trying to attract my attention away from Gaby. Failing this, he would sit halfway up the stairs waiting for me to finish the proceedings, and then he would escort me downstairs. But what happened on the morning after my ‘sermon’ changed everything overnight, and marked a new chapter in our mutual understanding. At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. After his breakfast, Freddie headed straight for the garden. As it was early in the day, he had some time for his usual inspection before the birds would arrive for their breakfast. I watched him discreetly from behind the kitchen door. After paying a short visit to his loo under the redcurrant bush, he then turned abruptly and left the back garden.  I ran to the hall to follow his departure. Seemingly without a care in the world, he walked towards the front of the house through my small cottage garden, across the short driveway, and after sensibly pausing on the edge of the pavement to look left and right for any incoming traffic, he crossed over the road.

On the opposite side, just behind a row of houses and their gardens, stretched an uneven lengthy wasteland. Well, more of a meadow, with long grasses, clumps of vegetation, a few old and gnarled trees, and dense bushes, not to mention an abundance of clover and many appreciative bumblebees.   On seeing that it was this lovely spot that Freddie was heading for, I could at last retreat back into the kitchen, reassured of his safety. There was only one little question to consider; when would he be back?

Courtesy of Wild Suburbia UK:

The day passed without any interruptions and there was no sign of Freddie. It wasn’t until seven thirty when the last batch of weary commuters dispersed into the maze of adjoining streets, and all my birds retired for the night that Freddie’s round face appeared through the cat flap, sniffing appreciatively in the direction of the kitchen. Oh, the fuss I made of him! Juggling with plates, cooling the chicken soup, and whirling the blender all at the same time wasn’t easy, but then I had no choice; Freddie’s preference for freshly cooked food was well by now known. And more importantly, hadn’t he done well?

As far as Freddie’s conduct was concerned, this first, wonderfully calm day set a greatly welcome pattern for the future.  It has to be said that Freddie’s enlightenment and his miraculous character transformation hadn’t happened a day too soon. The fledglings were appearing everywhere, and I had to spend much of the day cooking cauldrons full of oats, fat, bits of bread, and smooth peanut butter. This rich porridge would be served warm six times a day to assist the exhausted parents, and often made the difference between life and death for their youngsters.   The unpredictability of our weather, that spring, in particular, left many birds desperately short of insects but in my garden, all the birds were without any doubt, saved by ready meals.

Every year, my reward comes soon enough, when one joyful morning I am surrounded by the highly vocal species of blue tit which glisten against the deep green of the garden. As I mentioned before, one wee baby blue tit sounds like an electronic grasshopper, but the performance of the blue tit orchestra is an experience I would not miss for anything! When it is June and the days are warm enough, in a few days the birds disappear to the front garden and into the branches of a tall cherry tree which by then is teeming with insects and cherries. The tree has a somewhat double structure being smothered during the summer months by the vine but its seclusion seems to please the birds even more and it helps the cherries to ripen earlier. Looking into the tree’s dense, sun-shot canopy, I can only see dancing shadows but I know all my birds are there. Apart from the cacophony of their voices squealing with delight, there is another giveaway, the unmistakable sounds of slurping, and sucking of the hidden diners gorging themselves on the cherries. They are oblivious to my presence and nothing disturbs my observations except for the steady rain of cherry stones softly hitting the ground.

Courtesy of Caters Clips:

“The most interesting parts, by far, of published natural history are those minute but most graphic particulars, which have been gathered by an attentive watching of individual animals.” Those are the words of Philip Henry Gosse, a Victorian naturalist, whose beliefs I share. But apart from the educational benefit, we must not forget the lighter side of living close to nature – the entertainment. Well, picture this; it is 6.30 am, and a representative of the National Lottery is knocking on my door to tell me that I have won £20 million in Saturday’s draw. I jump out of bed with the full intention of greeting him at the door, only to find myself fully awake and face-to-face with the impatient caller glaring at me through the bedroom window pane. The bird is hanging by his toes from the lead stripes, his tummy pressed flat into the glass, and his wings flapping in a finely balanced act.  This is my morning roll call to feed the troops, and it happens every year during the fledgling season.

The real entertainment starts when the babies are first brought out to be fed by the food I provide. They are fed on the tables, chairs, and on the ground, and it is an utterly lovely sight. In a few days, they will be expected to feed themselves by their exhausted parents, but here the problems start for the youngsters, and the entertainment for me continues. Their early experience that to eat you have to have your mouth wide open is well ingrained and so they peck with their beaks wide open, just like scissors blades. Of course, the result is nil, so next they try to close the ‘scissors’ while the ‘blades’ are still stuck in the food, again without much success. The expression on their faces is priceless.

At the time, they very much resemble small children – they are eager and curious, walk, stand, and even sit on widely spread legs. And their washing routine, copied from their parents but not quite, is just hilarious. I could go on about the birds for a long time but it is time to return to Freddie. The fledgling ss season lasts for about eight weeks but even after many months, Freddie’s resolve to let the birds be was as solid as ever. Every fine morning he would leave for the meadow but on rainy or cold day he stayed at home and watched the birds from his day-bed on the wide window-sill in the study, comfortable on the large cushions. He was more interested in what was happening in the house or would snooze by my side while I worked.  One morning, he asked me to come with him to the front of the house but instead of crossing the road, he threw himself on the ground just outside the front door and asked me to scratch his tummy. I was perplexed as I could not see anyone for whose benefit Freddie was performing. Surely, it couldn’t be my neighbour in the house opposite mine, a young man who being happily married, would not wish his tummy scratched on Freddy’s suggestion. As I like to please, I carried on petting Freddie that morning, and the next day too.

On the third day, I could see the ivy growing on the tall pillar that fronts my driveway on one side, slightly moving.  Another day, and  I noticed part of a cat’s face just showing.  Freddie redoubled his efforts to show the mysterious creature that I was a nice person who could be trusted. Slowly, in a week, the cat became visible, and inch by inch would move forward.  I stepped aside, and Freddie triumphantly led the cat into the house. I could see that it was an old cat, and not very healthy. The plate with Freddy’s beloved snacks had to be put on the floor in the kitchen, and Freddie pushed it toward the newcomer urging him to try something. After the little companionable testing, the cat was invited by Freddie to join him on the low armchair lined with the mink coat and cushions.   I didn’t know whose cat it could be, and I made some enquiries. It happened to be a cat living with an old woman, and until recently, he hadn’t been allowed out, and that is why I had never seen him, His name was George, and I had to tell the unpleasant woman that during the day he stayed with Freddie but in the evening would go home. She wasn’t too pleased but as she was busy at the local church, it seemed my help was convenient.  Freddie was beside himself with happiness, and the pattern established with George coming in the morning and staying for a long time before going a short walk away in the evening.

“You’ve Got A Friend” by James Taylor:

 

This carried on for a few weeks, and one day George didn’t turn up. As Freddie and I were both worried, I phoned the woman. In a voice as cold as ice, she said that she had him put down a few hours ago at the vet. The shock of hearing such terrible news made me burst into tears. She didn’t bother to tell me or suggest anything else less final. Hearing me crying, the woman said with contempt, “Get a grip, Joanna, it was only a cat!”  It was difficult for Freddie to accept that he had lost a friend he loved, and I felt bad for a long time. I comforted Freddie as much as I could and slowly, in time life returned to normal.

“Nocturne in C sharp minor”, Op. Posth. by Frederic Chopin, performed by Jan Lisiecki:

Our happy existence, Freddie’s and mine continued for many years, with not a bad word between us. If ever we saw a cat from other houses trying to sneak in, Freddie would chase him away, and the birds were grateful by now knowing that he would not touch them. If he saw a cat in the front garden, he would chase him down the road, often with the blackbird flying just above in a show of solidarity. Time isn’t kind to anyone and after eleven years with me, and a good few years before that, Freddie’s agility slowed down. I made ramps for him to climb easily onto the places at home he liked to snooze on. He was still with me in the study while I worked but now behind me on his day bed.  At the end of the twelve years, one night he went to sleep but didn’t wake up. I  buried Freddie, my dear friend, in the garden, close to Gaby’s grave, and planted a large rose bush in their memory.

“Concerto for Flute, Harp and Orchestra: II Andantino” by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, performed by Claire Jones, William Bennett and English Chamber Orchestra:

 

What I have learned over the lifelong time of living with many animals, and I believe to be a fundamental truth, is that the behaviour of animals reflects not instinct but to a greater degree our own.

Courtesy of The Dodo: