There is an evergreen bush just outside of my apartment. Some birds hang out there from time to time. If George knew how to open that window, he'd be out it in a heartbeat.
Of course, if George managed to catch and kill a bird, I am certain that he'd bring to to me to de-feather, gut and cook it up for him.
Jake is taking his leisure:
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My previous pair of cats had been raised by me from kittens and were adults when I moved to a farm. Since it was a remote rural area, I let them out rather than go through the trouble of maintaining a cat box and all that. They had never hunted before in their life, but that did not stop them from bringing me a continuous stream of rodentia, dead but uneaten, for my viewing pleasure. At least they kept the barn mouse-free, and were hell on voles too! But birds... nah. They were useless at dealing with birds. Mockingbirds mocked them and dive-bombed them. I think birds scared them or something. They'd look at a bird, they'd look at me, and then they'd make that 'caa caaa caaaa caaaaa' chirping sound that means "Daddy, go get the bird for me!". I think they always suspected me of being a mean daddy because I never did :-).
BTW, they loved stalking armadillos too. They just didn't know what to do when the armadillo decided to not play with them. The most terrifying moment I ever had was when, standing on my back porch, I noticed one of my cats stalking a critter about twenty feet away. The critter was a skunk. I froze, having visions of multiple baths for my cat, then yelled at the cat and he broke off and came to me and looked at me accusingly as if to say "I almost had him!". Err, yeah. But that was one prize not worth catching :-).
My current pair hunt only the occasional housefly that gets in when I open the patio door. Probably for the better... we don't have a rodent problem around here, and wayyyy too many cars.
-- Badtux the Cat-owned Penguin
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