cats

The Country Mouse

Two weeks ago I destroyed a home.
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As I freed the old mower from the earth's icy clutches, two mice sprung out and bounded through the snow like miniature gazelles. It was a scene out of a children's story. They headed for the next mower, and then the next. I became the giant, hell-bent on recycling metal, tearing off plastic, draining molasses-like fluids in subzero temperatures. Fe fi fo fum, rrraurrgh! The two mice, hearts pounding 700 beats per minute, finally climbed a tree, pausing with wonder -who, what, is this monster?

But I am a sensitive monster, you know the kind, like Bumbles. After finding one of my large terra cotta pots had broken, I brought the clay round to the mower-shaped leaf and acorn patch in the snow and fashioned a structure roofed with a round basket. I do not know if they have returned, and hesitate to investigate lest the monster return. Yet, come spring, I will remove the hastily made structure.


There are mice, like the one above, in the garage and occasionally in the basement. Rex had stored innumerable things friendly to the woodland mice and we have been disposing of much of that. I like all the animals, but I do not want to compete with mice, they've all the dark hours to find ways into things and unlike the ordinary House Mouse, Deer Mouse Peromyscus maniculatus and the White-Footed Mouse Peromyscus leucopus do harbor certain diseases (Lyme, Hanta) that are rather off-putting.

Meanwhile, the garage is a safe place for them, away from the half-mile focus of Red-tailed Hawks, the nightly snacking of Coyotes and the occasional Red Fox, or any other predators that find mice a tasty morsel. And then, inside, there is the aging but agile hunter, one who is steadily gaining confidence in her new, larger queendom.


The Town Mouse and The Country Mouse, one of Aesop's Fables


A Little Color


After an inordinate amount of time searching for OMRI listed sources of Potassium for the beach farm, and not purchasing any, I needed to leave the apartment. I had seen the pale blue crocus in bloom on the warm day before the cold day, but had no time to stop and admire them, electronically. Today, however, I caught these larger, more robust flowers recently emerged from the leafy mat, and just before shadow took the corner.










Stepping into the side yard, the path stones squished under my weight, a season's worth of frost heave visible and then, the acrid bouquet of a season's worth of feline manure. I considered, briefly, picking up the winter's twigs, leaves, and trash deposits, but moved on to my intentions, sure enough there would be another 45 degree day for that.




What I Won't Miss



I had  a week of with some Echinacea.

And one of my lilies has bloomed just in time for me to see it.

A weed here and there, but gracing my garden nonetheless, Achillea millefolium.

Feral Cat, Felinus painintheassus, loves the side yard, everything about it, including the cold frame.

I Love The Smell...





Smell that? You smell that?

What?

Cat shit, son. Nothing else in the world smells like that.

[kneels]

I love the smell of cat shit in the morning.


The system. It hasn't worked. I stepped out on my way to work this morning and all I could smell was the festering. They went in five spots last night, on top of the mesh, in a 40 square foot area. I'm now thinking the only way is to bird net the whole area until the plants fill in. Only then, it seems, the cats will go elsewhere -mostly. But enough for me to claim...victory.


Gardens And Beasts



All the tulips and jonquils are blooming, and holding on quite well in these moderate temperatures. I have chosen not to photograph them this year, as you and I have done that dance in years before. But they are lovely, I promise.

This year, it's all about trails, and the beach farm's new promise. And some new expeditions through unknown locales. And, a very big if, should I figure out a way to convince our neighborhood cabal of cats from distributing their fecal fecundity in my poor plot, you will find those answers here too this season.

I've got one idea, of which I dislike, but it may just work.


Dog Doo Afternoon



The other day began with picking up the trash, the trash that, as it's told, blows in, except for those cat tins and beer bottles. I believe they do not take to the wind so well. In fact, the amount of trash on the sidewalk, in the tree pits, and especially near the corner storm drain was more than I had ever seen. Too heavy for the street sweepers to pick up, now, the neighborhood will have to get out there to clean it up. I cleared the sidewalk cutaway and the drain, leaving the rest for another day or someone else with initiative, as I had my hands full with the garden and tree pits.

I am disheartened by the number of bagged dog turds thrown into the garden. This behavior seems otherworldly -someone has already bagged the doo, yet tosses it into the garden instead of one of the many pails. I keep telling myself that it only takes one to make such a mess, just to keep my heart open to all the dog owners I see. But then there are those who let their dog drop yellowcake on the fenceline, undiscovered until I am toe deep in it while raking the leaves or trash out of the garden. 

Most turds I find through olfaction, and recently this sense has been overloaded. Last fall one of my upstairs neighbors stopped to tell me that she smelled 'cocky.' Her english is not very good, and she was pointing to the garden. I wasn't sure what she was telling me. Does she not like the garden?

Today she stopped to tell me she was again smelling too much cocky. She said it was wafting up and in through her windows, ruining her quality of life (I can only presume). I too smelled the cocky and it is raunchy, adding a rank flavoring to our outdoor experience. I told her it was cat shit, but she heartily disagreed, saying for sure that cat's dung smells different, and this surely was people poo, aka cocky, and they're dropping it at night on the sidewalk and the place in front of the building where the landlord keeps his utility poles, which happens to be underneath her windows. 

It is hard for me to fathom that people are squatting to poop in front of our house. Besides, a walk with eyes through the utility pole zone reveals an alarming amount of fresh and old turds, and I am pretty sure they are dropped by cats. Cat's that eat whatever human food they can find are probably going to make a nasty stink, and the same goes for people's dogs, whose tree pit turds I can attest are just as rank. Cat's like loose soil and privacy, but this winter both were erased by mountains of snow.  Between the poles and our  south facing building, the snow melted early on, creating one of few 'good' spots for them, and they did it by night. Another neighbor tells me they (the cats, that is) started going in their basement door well -probably a good day spot if you're a cat.

My upstairs neighbor told me that two years ago one of our other neighbors, a nice elderly man, was discovered to have 75 cats, living and dead, in his house. A team was brought in to deal with the 'situation', although to this day cats still follow him around the block. 

Oh man, are you feeling sick after reading all this? If you've got problems with feral cats, check out the NYC Feral Cat Initiative.

*Minor Update: this Sunday someone shoveled up the winter's garbage around the storm drain. Thanks to whoever had the initiative.



Cat Flowers



It all started rather simply. I cut the iris stalks this morning, sure that a good frost would do them in. Well, after my return from the studio, I decided why not pull in some sunflowers and chrysanthemums before they succumb? And that's how it all began.

Why stop there? I went back out and picked some pineapple sage, the remaining pincushion flowers, some borage, even some hardy ageratum that hadn't yet fully bloomed.

While I was out there, and even earlier in the day, I thought to myself how I had not found the mantis eggs this year. Well, while I was pulling leaves off the chrysanthemums, nothing but that happened to fall off. I brought it outside and put it on the rose bush.

But, we cannot have nice things. Why? Because beast cat Pinkie will, as soon as you turn away, destroy all your nice things. For this reason, we never have cut flowers in the house, or if we do, they must be put way up on top of the fridge. While I was cutting the stems, she was there waiting for her turn to participate. Even as I write this I caught her on the table, paw to the flowers. If I were to keep this on the table and leave, I would return to find the vase broken on the floor, the flowers spread all around, and, of course, the puddle.


Update: pineapple sage did not care for a few hours in the vase -wilt, wilt, wilt, trash. The borage is mixed, some floppy, some strong. I must admit to really liking cut flowers and if I had a large space would probably have an area just for growing cuts. And since I am dreaming, I would also have a space where the cat don't shine, and the vase unfazed by capricious felinity.