The big black cat was at the back door last night, looking in. I don't know where this cat came from, but I worry about him. Apparently, Gladys and Ray have one of his toes held hostage- the cat got caught in their extremely frightening raccoon leg hold trap that is in their tree (no kiddin') and left a black fuzzy kitty toe behind. I feel bad for the cat... sort of. It harasses our chickens, poos in our gardens, and screams in the middle of the night sometimes. Not a good kitty, really. And only 15 toes, so I know it is him when he walks on my car with muddy paws.
Anyway! The cat was stalking across the lawn this evening towards the hens so I snuck up on it and threw a shoe at it. Missed, but he got the message. Honestly, I picked the wrong shoe. I think I would have hit him with a "chaco," but I grabbed a "croc" instead- totally an amateur mistake.
While I was wearing only one shoe in the cool evening grass, I remembered I should take some photos of the hens enjoying a snack for the blog. I got the other shoe and the camera and took some photos of them eating diced spinach stalks out of a tupperware container whose lid I lost at least a year ago. It is the chicken treat bin now.
Pot Pie is just so very... special. She is not interested in treats the vast majority of the time. She spent the photo shoot preening her feathers (her favorite past time) and staring into space. You can see her preening some belly feathers in the first shot. I took a photo of just her when she deigned to make eye contact. She is really weird, and by weird I mean wonderful in a very unique way.
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