A sultry summer has arrived and the feral cats disappear during the day, to emerge around 7 pm in the big courtyard, lying about on the gravel. There seems to be a peaceful but finely balanced Mexican stand-off in which Scruffy (clearly the King of the Courtyard) luxuriates on his back giving himself a good scratch on the gravel, between house and ferals, demonstrating that he is indeed King and should a feral get too close to the house they will get a good thwack.
Waiting at an acceptable distance are usually three neutered boys: Husky, Clem Fandango and Zorro. Up at Fort Feral there are usually some others, Calypso (the butterfly cat) and Bandido, and sometimes Bette Davis and Jessie. Scruffy occasionally makes an appearance to observe proceedings from a nearby wall, but happily follows me back to the house on my return journey.
Husky, shown below, has a bit of a complex about sharing and as the food goes down into each of the three feeding stations, he darts from one to the other as if to say ‘It’s all mine! Stop eating it!’ which is pretty futile on his part as the others take advantage of his mania and get stuck in.
Waiting at an acceptable distance are usually three neutered boys: Husky, Clem Fandango and Zorro. Up at Fort Feral there are usually some others, Calypso (the butterfly cat) and Bandido, and sometimes Bette Davis and Jessie. Scruffy occasionally makes an appearance to observe proceedings from a nearby wall, but happily follows me back to the house on my return journey.
Husky, shown below, has a bit of a complex about sharing and as the food goes down into each of the three feeding stations, he darts from one to the other as if to say ‘It’s all mine! Stop eating it!’ which is pretty futile on his part as the others take advantage of his mania and get stuck in.
It’s funny how behaviour develops. When I emerge from the kitchen door with their food they all gallop off ahead of me, knowing I am destined for Fort Feral and two in particular, the two friendliest – Clem and Zorro – weave in and out of my legs, leapfrogging each other, round and round and I have to take care not to fall over! I end up doing an impression of John Wayne so that they can indeed run around my legs. What is this about? Sheer enthusiasm? A ploy to trip me up so I spill the food and they get to eat it more quickly? If one of the builders is to be believed it is to trip me up so I break my neck, perish in the finca and provide a food source until someone notices I’ve disappeared!
For your viewing delight I have included a photo of what I think must be ‘excrement of fox’. It is not the first time such a specimen has appeared in a food bowl at Fort Feral, and again it is pretty strange behaviour! Okay, so maybe there wasn’t any food left for him or her, but it does seem a bit mean – albeit skilful - to have a dump in a food bowl in protest. Churlish I would say!
Mizuki is at home at the moment, seemingly quite happy (as long as she gets cold milk twice a day). Apparently ‘everyone knows her’ now in the town down the road, and her absences from home - which have ranged from 4 days to 8 weeks – are considered impressive but foolhardy. Some people from the town wandering by yesterday, stopped for a chat and commented, ‘Well they do say cats have seven lives’. I told them they have two additional ones in English speaking countries. I had a look at this online and it appears that there are no claims beyond 9, but the number of lives is 6 in Arabic-speaking countries, and 7 in Spanish-speaking countries.
I will leave you with Clem and Husky on another handy waiting surface ... out of Scruffy's reach.
I will leave you with Clem and Husky on another handy waiting surface ... out of Scruffy's reach.
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