Soup Days
June 21st marked the winter solstice here in the Southern
Hemisphere. A look up at the grey sky and my cold hands confirm the fact. On
the positive side, our shortest day and longest night of the year are now
behind us. Cold days are a time to turn inwards… to reading (finally finished Cien Años de Soledad), tweaking and organizing
my writing and watching the World Cup on television.
While nibbling on a chocolate bar, I observe the birds foraging for
seeds outside. The liquidambar next door, its branches bereft of its burgundy leaves,
is laden with round prickly seed pods – a tasty bird banquet. First arrive the
gregarious green parrots, which in their gluttonous fever, knock the pods to
the ground. Then, the doves take over, waddling and pecking at the perilous
pods. Returning from my Pilates class this morning, I stepped carefully through
the mass of lethal-looking pods on the sidewalk.
Yesterday, arriving to the house, we
saw a band of doves dining below the tree, closely watched by a crouching grey cat,
its body flattened below the curb. Seeing that the doves were oblivious to the
lurking feline threat, I jumped out of the car.
My hubby said, “Wait. Let’s see what
happens.”
“No! It’ll catch one!” Doves are
slow movers and no match for a cat. I wasn't willing to let nature take its
course. Besides, the cat looked well-fed. I think it was Señora Teresa’s cat.
She feeds her pets too well. Besides her very fat cat, she has a fox terrier
that resembles a large sausage about to burst.
This morning I spotted a fluffy
white cat drinking water from our bird bath! Not very clean water as the robins
are frequent bathers there. I wonder if the cat noticed the scent of birds. Will
the birds pick up the smell of cat? I’m curious and Google for information.
Just as I thought, except for some specific species, birds’ sense of smell is
the least developed of their senses, thus facilitating the hunt of the hungry
cat.
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