Stopped feeding the "stray" cat this weekend. Not so much because I begrudged the 12 dollars for cat food, but because the darn thing, rather than teach its babies to hunt, was teaching them to beg at my door. To beg and to lurk about out of sight, waiting for the barest hint of an opening door, then streak in and hide behind the pantry where I can't reach them. I only let the cat stick around because this is rodent central, what with the fields and orchards around.
May 4, 2009
In the past twenty four hours she's caught twelve mice and/or moles–twelve that I've seen with my own eyes–and brought them home. The kittens learned the art of disemboweling a rodent quickly. They eat all but the intestines, then go back and eat that a few minutes later.
They eat like toddlers. Food–blood in this case–everywhere; granted, unlike toddlers, they do clean up their own mess. But still. I can hear them crunching the bones up, even with the door shut. It's disgusting. I'm sure it's good for the rodent population and I'm sure I don't miss the mole hills this year, but eww! Do they really have to do it on my front porch?
Kitten, anyone? They are seriously cute. I promise–this coming from me–and if you know me, you know I'm not an animal lover in any sense of the word. But cute they are, I must admit. And the bloodlust! If you have a rodent population, have I got a deal for you.