Cats and Birds

If it's Sunday morning toward the end of August, I'm probably waking up to loudly complaining cats and gracefully complaining hummingbirds. The orange tabby walks around the house loudly voicing her displeasure or her needs -- or maybe just giving me her general commentary. Meanwhile, the hummingbirds in the neighborhood are swarming the feeders. We have four of them, since our house seems to have gotten rave reviews from the hummingbird's very own Zagat. It must be that extra tablespoon of sugar. Mornings and evenings find a virtual cloud of hummingbirds in the yard.

The fat male hummingbird, territorial bastard that he is, has his own feeder now, a blue globe with a slender glass tube. He sits on a nearby wind chime and chases off all comers, though a savvy bird will frequently taste the nectar while he's off chasing another away. Eventually, all the birds discover one of the other multi-feeders. Some sit there for tens of minutes, craning their necks to watch the mayhem surrounding them. Others hover near the feeder, too fearful to land, satisfying themselves with quick tongues full of nectar.

Meanwhile, the cats are engaged in their morning calisthentics. The orange tabbe, the older lady of the house, has finished complaining to me and is now announcing her opinion to the younger male, a black-and-gray-and-orange bulls-eye tabby. Whatever she has just said to him he has taken as a challenge, and he decides to chase her up and down the couch. It was a nice couch, once upon a time, with a colorful floral pattern that was the basis of the color scheme in that area of the house. The cats don't care about that. The just know that it's great fun to climb on, a welcome change from the slippery wood floor.

And my coffee is finally ready, the cats have worn themselves out and the next batch of food for the hummingbirds is set to go.