big black and white things
May. 21st, 2012 02:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
woolymonkeySomething very odd is happening to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
themonkeycats.
When we lived in central Cambridge, Leicester was the mighty hunter. He was never very good at birds, luckily, but could easily catch several mice a day. Meanwhile Humbug lunged uselessly at squirrels, admired Leicester's mice (but lost any he was left in charge of) and proudly brought home an assortment of sticks, polystyrene and litter, which he would haul over the trellis and build into trophy piles on the patio. Now he's morphing into The Beast of Girton, out all day prowling the undergrowth. We thought the woodpigeon was fluke and the mouse was impressive, but I just looked up to see him lolloping home with a magpie clamped in his jaws! It flew off when I stopped him bringing it in through the window and is sitting in a tree apparently unharmed but very, very indignant. i think this may be war.
Leicester is puzzled but grudgingly impressed. Not to mention grateful since he was allowed to eat the woodpigeon and the mouse. As far as I know, he hasn't caught anything himself yet though he spends a lot of time watching the bird table in hope. I suspect he'll learn to catch the bunnies at the bottom of the garden, but I'm not sure he even knows about them yet. He's well settled now, though. He's successfully seen off the 6 cats from the farm. It was all very civilised with hardly any body contact, but it's now established that Leicester is allowed to go where he likes, at least in his own garden and the student house on the other side. When he meets any of the others they either withdraw to the farm or exchange polite chit chat about the weather.
The Beast of Girton doesn't really bother with cat encounters. Sometimes he gets attacked by Charles, the top farm cat, but he knows he can scream for help and Leicester will come running to protect him. Maybe the dead birds are a kind of payment...
themonkeycats. When we lived in central Cambridge, Leicester was the mighty hunter. He was never very good at birds, luckily, but could easily catch several mice a day. Meanwhile Humbug lunged uselessly at squirrels, admired Leicester's mice (but lost any he was left in charge of) and proudly brought home an assortment of sticks, polystyrene and litter, which he would haul over the trellis and build into trophy piles on the patio. Now he's morphing into The Beast of Girton, out all day prowling the undergrowth. We thought the woodpigeon was fluke and the mouse was impressive, but I just looked up to see him lolloping home with a magpie clamped in his jaws! It flew off when I stopped him bringing it in through the window and is sitting in a tree apparently unharmed but very, very indignant. i think this may be war.
Leicester is puzzled but grudgingly impressed. Not to mention grateful since he was allowed to eat the woodpigeon and the mouse. As far as I know, he hasn't caught anything himself yet though he spends a lot of time watching the bird table in hope. I suspect he'll learn to catch the bunnies at the bottom of the garden, but I'm not sure he even knows about them yet. He's well settled now, though. He's successfully seen off the 6 cats from the farm. It was all very civilised with hardly any body contact, but it's now established that Leicester is allowed to go where he likes, at least in his own garden and the student house on the other side. When he meets any of the others they either withdraw to the farm or exchange polite chit chat about the weather.
The Beast of Girton doesn't really bother with cat encounters. Sometimes he gets attacked by Charles, the top farm cat, but he knows he can scream for help and Leicester will come running to protect him. Maybe the dead birds are a kind of payment...
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Date: 2012-05-23 11:05 am (UTC)