Four in the morning.

Barn cats.

We have many cats and no mice–we all have a job to do at Morrow Ranch. Besides the wild fare, the cats go through a 40-pound sack of feed every week, or so.

A few of the barn cats this fall at Granny's back door.

From time to time, a mother cat refuses a baby or a barn owl gets really hungry.  That’s when a kitten ends up as more of a pet–bottle feeding and all.

But, here’s the thing.  The barn cats are, well, feral–wild little creatures with no manners what-so-ever.  They hiss and hunch, they are not easily trained to use the cat box and they hunt bare human skin such as feet, legs, fingers and ears.

Tuffee is Granny's kitten. The mother abandoned her at Granny's back door this summer.

At our house, Bob Cat got a name and ended up in the house during a snow storm a few years ago.  Cody felt sorry for the little lady as the owl was particularly hungry and wiped out not just the momma but four of her kittens.

Bob Cat wasn’t so much lucky as she was smart enough not to leave the barn.  She has been invited in and kicked out over the years depending on her, ahem, manners.

This winter, she’s been minding said manners and has taken to lounging as though she’s done it all her life.  This was the couch scene at four this morning:

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4 thoughts on “Four in the morning.

  1. Bob Cat’s living the life!!

    We had barn kitties like that, too. They usually started out wild (born in the hayloft or out under a grainary) but soon tamed with 2 thing: a huddle of little kids who’d purposely slop milk into the barn saucer and who then stayed around to shyly pet the little “spit & scat” cats.

    …. MJ

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