In Review

No new photos are available, since I have yet to purchase a new battery for my little camera. Actually, I took very few photos last year, despite the fact that I even had my wildlife camera up for several weeks--until I noticed someone was interested in "borrowing" it during the night a couple of times, and so I took it down. One of these weeks, or possibly months, I intend to post some of my wildlife photos. Since Ponzo was in charge of our posts last year, you see, I have gotten out of the habit of posting.

In 2011, we experienced illnesses, births, and deaths. We also had many black bear sightings on our property and, needless to say, I was absolutely delighted, especially with my pleasant, once-in-a-lifetime encounter with a mama black bear and her three little cubs. It truly could have been called the Summer of the Black Bear. As for my lowest point of the year, that was the death of Zorro, our winged feral cat.

A Familiar Cat

An Invitation

Yesterday, Zorro extended an invitation for me to touch him, and I graciously accepted, touching his back very gently and quickly. This was the first time this has occurred, despite the fact that I have known the feral cat, who is the son of Pegasus, for several years. However, last month, either his tail brushed against my hand on purpose or I accidentally brushed my hand against his tail in passing, as I was picking up the cats' outdoor food dish. But the following day, when I extended my hand toward Zorro to see if he wished me to pet him, he declined my offer by lightly tapping the back of my hand with his paw. Out of respect to Zorro, who chooses his friends very carefully, I have never attempted to touch him, allowing him to be true to his own feral nature, and so I am honored by his friendly gesture.

Black Bear Calling Card

When I glanced out a window this morning, I saw Zorro standing over something in the yard. Fearing the worst, I ran outside in hopes of perhaps saving the life of a squirrel or other small creature in the feral cat's clutches. But when I got close, I discovered Zorro examining a black clump with great interest. Apparently, a bear had dined at a neighbor's bird feeder. Anyway, I went back inside the house and googled black bear poop--I found scat. The proper term for bear poop is scat. My vocabulary word for the day.

Hurricane Isabel

It is the sixth anniversary of Hurricane Isabel, which means it is also the sixth anniversary of the day that Pegasus came into my life and introduced me to the world of feral cats. By the way, the photo is of Zorro, the son of Pegasus, who is the spitting image of his dad. I chose this photo because it really could be mistaken for a shot of Pegasus (I am not in the mood to search through boxes of snapshots to find a picture of the first feral cat in my life--and then I would have to figure out how to scan the photo--so perhaps another time).

Coming home from work six years ago, I dumped my half-eaten bag of popcorn for the crows to eat in my yard. A little later, I saw a hungry-looking black cat eating the popcorn. When he returned to the same spot and sat there daily, I began feeding him regular catfood. However, this black cat started changing his appearance each time I saw him. It was barely noticeable, but Pegasus never looked exactly the same to me. It had not dawned on me that there were two black cats visiting my yard, until I finally saw them together and thought I was seeing double. Gemini was the appropriate name for the twin cat; they really did look like matching bookends.

Anyone observing Pegasus running down my hillside the following spring would have seen why I had chosen his name. He truly appeared to have wings, especially when he ran down the slope. Literally. But that is a different story.

Months later, I watched Pegasus escort half-grown kittens into my yard. That is when I learned that there was a feral cat colony in the neighborhood. Even though the feral cat colony had caretakers, I would get occasional visitors looking for food in my yard. Sadly, Pegasus and Gemini moved on years ago, and I do not know what happened to the feral cat colony cats. That is, with the exception of one of the first kittens that Pegasus had brought into my yard. She is now a tattooed (instead of ear-tipped), spayed feral cat living inside my house, but that is another long story. The point of this story is that I have been observing feral cats for six years. And I have been adopted by a few, who are now housecats. Their choice. They could have chosen to return to life on the outside.