Catschka Goes Hunting

Catschka Goes Hunting

Catschka went hunting the other day. While she is an expert climber, she is not yet an expert hunter. The birds survived. A pictorial account follows.

Catschka cautiously makes her way along the tree branch. Her goals: the chickadee above and the blackbird below. “Slowly, slowly... a hunter needs patience above all....”

The blackbird and the chickadee catch sight of Catschka. The blackbird scoffs. “There she is. The mighty huntress. Yawn.”

The blackbird draws Catschka to a thinner part of the branch, farther out on the tree, where it’s impossible for her to pounce. Catschka follows. Then, just before the bird hops off the branch, she realizes that she’s been tricked and gives vent to her rage. “I’ll get you for that! Just you wait until I get my teeth into you! I’ll make you into mincemeat, you ben yonah!”

“Call me a pigeon, will you?” the blackbird fumes. “A pigeon?! I’ll have you know, you lumbering four-footed fur-visaged feline, that I am descended from an impeccable line of blackbirds. And my friend there is a chickadee. Do you see any pigeons in this garden? No? Too bad for you—they’re the only birds who’d be stupid enough to let you catch them. Ben yonah indeed!”

Catschka, her uncaught quarry behind her, admits defeat. “I’ll be back,” she snarls.

Having survived the Great Avian Taunting, Catschka climbed out of the tree several moments later and received skritches (not pictured) by way of consolation.

The Friday Ark. The Carnival of the Cats.