Happily Ever After

Life in The Rural Retreat with a beautiful wife, three cats, garden wildlife, a camera, a computer – and increasing amounts about running

Earlier posts can be found on Adventures of a Lone Bass Player, where this blog began life. Recent entries can be found here.

An Orphan of the Storm

by admin - 21:26 on 04 February 2011

I found her when I left The Rural Retreat at around 7.30pm, my pockets stuffed with pine marten treats.

She was sheltering from the torrential rain, huddled in a dry corner on the threshold of the door, her head tucked into her feathers – a lone female siskin, unaware that at any minute she could be discovered by Romeo, the neighbourhood cat-botherer.

I'd been out a couple of times in the previous two hours and seen nothing, but it was dark, damp and cold so I could easily have missed the tiny green/yellow blob on the doorstep.

Should I have left her to take her chances and fly away in her own time? Or carried her into the bushes? I don't know. I probably shouldn't have brought her indoors where Matchgirl had prepared a padded shoebox, its lid dotted with breathing holes, but that's what I did.

Matchgirl, who's the perfect hostess, was keen to add small pots of water and birdseed to the instant accommodation, which meant the lid had to be removed. That's why this evening we were treated to the sight of an indoor aerial display from a very perky siskin who clearly felt much brighter in a warm cottage.

One of last year's garden siskins

Bess became so interested that, much to her chagrin, she had to be put in the bedroom while we recaptured our guest, which was achieved after a short but hectic interval. The resident moggy took this hard – when Cissy was back in her box I returned to the bedroom to free Bess, but she was not to be found. A cat was sulking hard somewhere in a dark corner.

When the rain stopped we gave our unexpected guest a chance to fly home by carrying the shoebox to the bottom of the garden and removing the lid. I'd expected her to be out like a shot, but all Cissy did was look up, rather puzzled, then tuck her head back into her feathers.

So our guest will spend the night with us and be released at first light – assuming she makes it through the small hours, of course. Matchgirl has had to be restrained from checking every ten minutes.

Bess, at the time of writing, continues her solitary sulk. Life can be unfair to cats.

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