Coming slowly awake this morning, I became aware of what felt like a cool draft up my spine, soon realising that Blackie had yet again gently inserted herself closely beside me and pushed me right to the edge of the bed. I’ve not yet actually fallen, but while it’s not a long drop I feel that would be better avoided.
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It’s a very wide bed, so the sensible thing would be to position myself in the middle, right? But then I couldn’t reach the light switch. Slide over once the light is off? That would mean moving the cats, now settled into their own slumber and God forbid they should be disturbed!
So I lie down in the small space allocated to me and hope for the best.
Life with cats.
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Meanwhile, Sophia is still trying in vain to persuade one of the others to become a cuddle-buddy, but they have all always been independent little so-and-so’s that have no interest in cultivating friendships.
“We tolerate each other. Doesn’t that suffice?” they say.
Dee Dee and Lily will allow for a few nose touches but nothing more.
Maybe we should advertise for a cuddler, but I can imagine how that would turn out, so no, Sophia will have to get her cuddles from us. We are happy to oblige, but what she really wants is a furry companion to curl up next to in a snug bed.
Sophia’s most favourite thing is chicken. She likes it in any form but she loves Hannaford’s Hot Fried. Grant buys it for himself, but we both know it’s really for Sophia.
An old girl deserves a bit of what she fancies, right?
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Two skunks sharing their food peacefully.
It is more usual to see something like this…
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A scrum of pushing and shoving and occasional squealing. This was after dark so the photo isn’t great, but you get the idea. It’s just one big black and white furry blob.
These little creatures are quite bold. Perhaps you can afford to be when you have a reputation for unleashing on your opponents such a noxious spray. We are wary of them for that reason, however one of these individuals waits by the patio door in the morning and takes nuts out of the container held in a hand. If we left the door open, I suspect it would venture inside.
Not that I think that would be a good idea, nor pushing the friendship.
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A couple more family photos.
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Another day the two fawns came on their own. The one on the right caught sight of me in the doorway and stamped its foot but then went back to eating.
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How could anyone look at a creature this beautiful and think to shoot it?
Hunting as a means to feed yourself is one thing, but for pleasure?
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Yesterday I was wishing safe travels to a Monarch butterfly.
Knowing that these butterflies have short lives ( 2 to 5 weeks), I had wondered how they complete their migration south, but discovered that the generation which makes that journey is a Super Monarch which lives from 7 to 9 months. Returning in the Spring, they lay eggs along the way so that future generations complete the trip. Monarchs may travel up to 80 miles per day, the longest journey recorded of a single individual reportedly 1870 miles.
According to Wikipedia only 10% of Monarch eggs and caterpillars survive.
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Where did the Monarch get its name?
Apparently it was named after King William III who was William of Orange.
What an honour to have such an amazing creature named for you.
Yes, we wish the Monarchs well.
I’ve always known people who needed to hunt just to put food on the table. That was true for my dad’s side of the family until relatively recently. Here on the Southcoast we have too many deer and we are too urban for hunting to be an effective means of control. It is a serious problem with no clear way forward. In the meanwhile, the deer visit us and we enjoy their grace and beauty, as we try to limit the damage they do to our trees and gardens.
Thank you, Carolyn, for the delightful account of your perseverance to stay in bed, and when you got up, feed all the needy. I love the reason why the beautiful butterfly, Monarch, acquired its name!
Joanna
Lovely photos, one and all!
1870 miles? A Butterfly? 80 miles a day? I can’t walk 8 miles a day without complaining!
My husband and I shared bed with my daughter for some years and I remember what means to trying to make do with what I have. She would take up 75% of the space, sleeping diagonally, and leaving us to sleep at the edge of the bed, limbs hanging out. She wouldn’t sleep on her own bed and her father is too much a sweetheart to allow his daughter to be alone
One of the reasons I have not had cats since the late 1970s is bed-sharing. The dogs I have had never wanted to get on my bed, but my cat always did. She was no bigger than one of my arms, but took up 75% of the space.
Best wishes, Pete.
Your family photos are beautiful – from lovely Sophia to the wildlife outside. So, Monarch is actually royalty … well, I expected nothing less. Beautiful photos and interesting facts about them.