November 2001
It’s
been some time ago that autumn has come. The hedge’s leaves have
almost all fallen, as well as other green plant’s leaves, in and
outside our garden. Only the small oaktree still wears red-brown leaves.
Up
in this self-cultivated tree I’ve hung a couple of peanut-nets some
weeks ago for my winged friends.
I find it pleasant when writing down my Guusje stories for you that one can listen to soft cheerful twittering and chirping in the background in our house. It inspires me while writing, producing a cheerful mood.
But not
this year. There’s no listening to cheerful twittering and chirping,
it’s quiet in the garden. The peanut-nets are still practically full
and not one bird, not even the heavier kind like the blackbird, is to
be found in our garden. Perhaps you’ve already guessed, the cause
is our Guusje.
Guusje
is placed under cover sitting half behind the seat standing against the
wall of our house.
Now one
and sometimes two sparrows come flying and thinking, hey, there’s
a peanut-net hanging in the small oak-tree. They go skipping from branch
to branch, arriving where the goodies are and when they’ve had some
titbits it happens. First Guusje scowls , mewling soundlessy. Then she
softly stamps her little paws on the terrace tiles, after which she lands
against the underside of the tree with some powerful jumps. Before she
climbs the tree the small winged creature thinks, "hey, a cat",
and flies away.
Guusje, full of adrenalin climbs to the top of the tree as if her life
depends on it. I’ve done it again, she contentedly thinks and looks
around her satisfied. After this stupendous effort Guusje climbs down
again to report at the kitchen-door. Yes, that works up an appetite.
Then when I let her inside, which may take some time before I realize she’s there, the other two cats have arrived in the kitchen as well. You never need to call cats for food. All day long and for twenty-four hours they think about food and listen with their little ears pointed if somebody happens to go into the kitchen. In no time all three are circling about your legs with a look of “I’m so hungry, master”.
So then I pull open a tin and fill up a tray with dry food; imagine them not getting enough. Two of those big Maine Coons like to eat quite a bit, but I’ve noticed that our little Guusje is no less. How she can eat, luckily she’s so busy outside chasing birds, otherwise she might grow too fat.
The other day when I was buying cat-food at the petshop while paying the shop-girl behind the counter asked if I needed any peanut-nets and greaseballs for the birds.
No thanks, I politely answered, no peanut-nets or greaseballs this winter. We know better, don’t we Guusje?
