(written while living in New York)
It’s mid-summer here in New York. Lately the days have been full of sunshine, deep blue skies, cool breezes and everything is bursting with emrald shades of color. Realizing how fleeting this weather is in our state, we often sit outside on our porch or deck in the early mornings and evenings, soaking up the goodness.
Our cat, known to us as “Max”, likes to join us on these days. He frequently saunters in from some great adventure in the rolling hillsides around our home. It is apparent that he relishes the times when we are with him outside. He squishes his furry body up against our legs and with a strong rythmic purr…grazes past us to lazily find a spot where he can simply sprawl out his entire body, *yawn* and blink sleepily off into one of his famous naps.
We love this cat. And we love the times like this with him. But there is another side of Max that we are well aware of too. He’s not always so sweet and agreeable. He is a hunter. An avid hunter. I mean the boy can muster up three field mice in a day, tossing their little lifeless bodies on the doormat proudly…only to prance through the house doorway with a lion-like attitude and throw down a bowl full of Meow Mix afterward. He’s “all that and a bag of cat doodles” for real.
This spring we started noticing something incredible with Max. Actually, it was incredible that he was allowing it to happen. It involved a very stubborn and strong-willed bird. This fellow had a long neck, perky little beak with truly intricate grey and white feathers. But the most remarkable part of this bird, was his flight capabilities. He seemed to mimick a Blue Angel Jet pilot. He would swoop past the railing of the deck and fly in jagged patterns that appeared to fight the laws of physics. Sometimes, I thought I saw him fly backward! It was quite a thing to watch.
Which leads me back to Max.
You see, this bird had a thing for Max. I’m not talking about a sweet affection toward him. More like a MAJOR gripewith Max. We would watch Max stroll across our yard. When suddenly from the top of a nearby tree, the bird took aim and flying straight toward the ground – he would dive bomb the cats head repeatedly. We were stunned.
Every week it seemed like the bird found a new way to get just a little closer to Max. He would fly in a circle around Max’s tail…squalking and making such a commotion, that we knew when the cat was back near the house, based soley on the sounds coming from the daredevil bird.
It didn’t matter if the bird saw Max waiting at our back door on the inside of our house or if the cat was on the driveway…it was all the same to the bird. He was at war. The bird truly believed he could “take” Max.
Said bird, however, didn’t know Max the lion. He apparently didn’t see the numerous bits of animal parts that Max would drag to the doormat and leave as trophies. (Did I mention he once left the hind section of a rabbit??) He is SERIOUS about his duties as a hunter. And I’m guessing, it never dawned on the bird that Max wasn’t really the best opponent.
Oddly enough, Max put up with this bird for a very long time. Often he would simply duck – when the bird went on the attack. Or calmly walk onto the deck to sprawl out in his usual fashion. Not a care in the world. It was weird…very, very, weird.
However, it soon became clear that Max was at war too. It was strategic – this ignorning the bird thing he did. He was biding his time. We caught him a few times, casually opening one eyelid, stealing a squinted glance just long enough to take calculated notes on his ultimate target.
We warned the bird. Oh yes we did. One or the other in our family would yell out, “Dude, you’d better stop that. One day! One day, Max isn’t gonna take it anymore!” And the bird would flap its wings at us, land on a tree limb and squalking all the louder in defiance. We shrugged our shoulders, sat back, and simply said, “Well, don’t say we didn’t warn you.“
Two days ago… there must have been a dive bomb to end all dives.
On the back deck…smack on the center of the doormat…. lay a very nasty version of some internal bits of bird and at least a dozen grey feathers. At first, I thought…nooo, it can’t be. But within hours, we heard a sacred silence around the outside of the house that hasn’t been heard for months.
Silence.
No more flapping.
No more swooping dives.
No more squalking.
The war it seems is over. Max 1 – Bird 0.
(sigh)
It got me thinking. This bird was a lot like us as humans. We often think that we can flirt with things that we know could hurt us. We dive close to danger or things that simply aren’t good for us. We graze past it, glancing at it – not quite touching it. Danger likes to flirt with us.
Over time, we build our confidence with thoughts like, “Well, just a little won’t hurt. I can control it. It won’t get me. No one will know. Just one more time won’t hurt me..etc.” Each time we get a little braver.
I’ve been there.
And…I’d like to think you and I are a little smarter than a bird.
