Where the wild things are…

Today I came home from some last minute Christmas shopping (I still have more to do!) to find a dead pigeon in the driveway.  Harnessing my feelings of disgust and sadness, I managed to walk past the poor mangled creature into the house where I was happy to find my two cats inside.  My sweet husband confirmed that our babies had been in the house the whole time, and then he went out to dispose of the carcass.  (He is my hero.) Two days ago,  a decapitated humming bird appeared on our back patio.  We suspected Marcus at the time, but since we now knew that he could not have taken down the pigeon and that ZipperMarie would not deign to do such a thing, we began to suspect other neighborhood kitties.  Could it be the beautiful and mysterious Esmerelda?  The orange tabby who likes to hang out?  Is there a Feline Godfather in the neighborhood leaving messages for our cats?

The answer appeared about fifteen minutes after my return when Tom spotted a big red-tailed hawk sitting in the sidewalk pepper tree, probably wondering where his pigeon went.  The hawk saw us and flew across the street, and I decided to keep Marcus inside for the rest of the day.

hawk

So, where are the wild things?  They’re everywhere.  We just get to share their world.

 

 

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