Life of a cat / Katzenleben

The flock

Why the birds are on the ground, pecking away at it, the cat does not know.
There are dozens of them, littering a passage that is seldom frequented by humans.
The road that marks the end of the passage is roaring with activity but even the harsh vibrations from passing vehicles do not scare the birds away.
They are too intent on getting the best bite of whatever they are pecking at, stealing bits away from each other, fluttering indignantly and screeching incessantly.

The commotion provides the perfect cover for the hunter. Although smaller than a bottle crate it is deadly and precise.
It takes its time to select a specific bird, a young one, already quite grown but not yet familiar with its wingspan.
The prey is too engrossed in getting the best bite for itself to notice that itself is about to become the best bite for another being.
Slowly the cat crouches forward, shortening the distance without getting noticed. Though its whole body is pressed to the ground, it is not lying around leisurely. It is tense, the front paws deliberately placed on the perfect spot to execute the leap that will carry it to its next meal.
The hind paws are adjusted slightly each time the bird moves to a different position in its hassle. Without being aware of it the bird is getting closer to the cat with each turn around another contestant.

Both of the ears are directed to the prey.
The tip of the tail flickering ever so slightly.
The bum is repositioned one more time.
The bird has its back turned to the cat.

The cat releases the pent up tension in one powerful and completely silent leap.

The other birds notice the cat and - panic-stricken - begin to flutter towards the safety of the sky where the cat can't follow.

The intended prey needs a moment to readjust its wings, which it has not quite grown into yet, from facing down a congener to fleeing an unknown danger.
With a slight tilt of the tail the cat adjusts its path in the air.

The claws are no longer hidden, the paws no longer soft. During the stalk they might have made a noise, therefore they had to stay hidden away.
Now the xyresic talons are sinking through the soft feathers into the flesh of the bird.

It screeches with an annoying pitch, fluttering its wings. They and the birds talons are shoved at the cat incessantly, trying to free itself.

A harsh blow to the cats nose draws blood. It drops the prey to quickly lick at its nose but simultaneously fixes one of the birds wings in place by lodging one of its claws deep into it.

The bird keeps fluttering but tries to get away from the cat, not into its face.

The scratch to the nose is licked and a quick bite to the wing joint makes it impossible for the bird to fly.

Bound to the ground the bird has no chance.
It is in pain and above all it is terribly afraid, panicking.
The flock has left and with it the safety provided by it.

Again and again it swipes at the thing that is keeping it there, that is hurting it but in vain.
Or is it? The wing is no longer stuck and immediately the bird hops off, getting away as quickly as possible with injured limbs.

The cat does not move and thus the bird can't perceive it. It flutters its wings, trying to fly away before the hunter comes back. The bite to the wing joint has severed too much tissue however.

The bird has quieted down. Not because the fear has left it but because its instincts tell it to not draw any more attention to itself now that it is not longer held down.

While the bird struggles to get away from where the cat emerged from, the cat has, unbeknownst to the bird, circled around it.

It is about to pounce once more when a loud barking can be heard from the road at the end of the passage.

Suddenly the cat is no longer the predator but the prey. Its stance has changed immediately, no longer concentrating on the bird but on the new threat.
The ears are turning hither and yon, surveying the one dog and screening the area just in case there are more.

Still barking at the top of its voice and pawing at the ground to get closer the dog is dragged away. By what the cat can not see, is suffices that it is gone and that there aren't any others emerging in the passageway.

The encounter is over within seconds but turning around to where the bird was there is only empty ground. The bird can't have gone far as it can't fly anymore, the cat made sure to incapacitate it before letting go of it.

The smell of fresh blood as well as the slight scratching of claws against the ground is all the cat needs to locate the bird once more.

It has taken shelter between some trash bags and a crate.

One of the trash bags is ripped open and has spilled its contents all over the floor.

The cat circles the hideout, it is in no hurry.

Unwittingly, the bird has chosen a cul-de-sac to hide in, it has no way out but the way it came in and that is where the cat positions itself now.
It enjoys the rare playtime and repeatedly swipes at the bird. Sometimes the claws only rip out some feathers, sometimes they go deeper and draw more blood.

Desperately the bird starts to screech again but to no avail. All that it accomplishes by that is receiving a hefty blow to the head.

Disorientated, no longer able to see out of one eye, no longer able to fly and bleeding from several wounds the bird falls to the ground. It's movements have become feeble.

At long last the cat moves in for the final bit of play, the feeding. One paw holds the bird with its back to the ground, the fangs digging deep into the body of the finally dead prey.

The cat is content. With the bird safely in its jaws, the cat breaks into a trot, leaving the passageway behind.

Jumping from the ground to a ledge onto a fence and a window sill allows the cat to reach a calm and sheltered bit of rooftop.

The bird is devoured, only the green wobbly bit and the bones are left out.

The remains are pushed of the roof one by one.

Thereafter a good grooming is needed, especially the paws and claws.
Settling further into its resting place the cat starts by lifting one paw and licking of anything that is stuck to the fur and smoothing it back into place.
Special care is given to each individual claw, they are repeatedly retracted and extracted and spread so as to reach every last bit of the bird that is still stuck to the paw.
Each paw is meticulously cleaned as is the fur subsequently.

After some leisurely stretching the cat curls up. It has hunted successfully and won't be hungry until dark. The smell of the prey and the alleyway has been licked off of every last bit of fur and claw. The spot it is currently occupying is sheltering it from wind and rain but allows the sun to warm its fur.

The cat is content.