Kitty Chaos

There is a misconception about peaceful country life. There may be peaceful conditions somewhere, but usually not here. Last week, chaotic was probably a better adjective to describe my household.
I don’t know if my animals are more neurotic than others or if other people are just too embarrassed to talk about it. The first real inkling I had was several years ago when one of the cats kidnapped my dog’s puppies. But that’s another story for another time. This time, it’s a case of kitnapping.
I have to go back a few weeks to the first litter of kittens, which were born quite un-eventfully to Patches, one of three calico cats who live part time in the house. She gave birth to five of the biggest kittens I’ve ever seen, one of which opened her eyes at 4 days old. All of them had their eyes open within a week. That was strange enough, but at least the kittens were pretty much staying put. Then, when they were about two weeks old, Dolly gave birth to a lone black and white kitten in the middle of my bed. Apparently she decided that was not the safest place for the baby so she moved the kitten in with Patches and her family. Patches didn’t mind; in fact, it worked out pretty well for everybody. The kittens especially enjoyed having two food sources and each cat could take a break without worrying about what was going on back at home. Sort of a mother’s day out program. It was good for Dolly’s solo baby to have other kittens to snuggle with and for about a week, peace reigned in the bedroom closet.
Did I mention how precocious Patches’s kittens are? Well, they decided to explore the rest of the house at about three weeks old and it just tore Dolly all to pieces. Her kitten stayed put, but she was pretty alarmed at all the coming and going with the other babies. If there were a Kitten Protective Services, Dolly would be the head of the agency. She just didn’t think it was safe for those babies to be out of the nest and spent a lot of time and energy bringing them back to the fold. It was sort of like trying to fill up a bucket with a hole in the bottom. The kittens were too big to carry, especially since Dolly only has three legs and is a smallish cat to begin with. So she would grab them around the neck and sort of drag them across the floor. They didn’t go quietly and when I was talking on the phone several times, the caller asked what on earth was wrong with those cats.
Just as Dolly was getting reconciled to the idea of the kittens leaving the nest, her own kitten started following along. I think at that point, she gave up the idea of keeping them under wraps, and everything would have been fine had not Buffy had her kittens, right there in the same nest as the older kittens.
Now, Buffy is a young cat and this is her first experience with motherhood. Dolly, as head of Kitten Protective Services, was immediately convinced that Buffy had no idea what she was doing, and she may have been right. She would hover over her and then look back at me as if to say, “I’m going to have to remove these kittens from the home.” Which is exactly what she tried to do. I found one in the kitchen cabinet, one in the dresser drawer and woke up in the middle of the night to find one in my bed. For a couple of nights, it was just like trying to sleep in the middle of a three ring circus, with kittens going everywhere and not quietly. But finally, things pretty much got back to normal, or as normal as it ever gets at my house. Buffy has figured out the motherhood thing and is taking care of her kittens, along with Dolly’s kitten. The other babies are eating on their own now, for the most part and beginning to go outdoors in the daytime. But they still go back to the nest in the closet and there they all are, three different groups, all curled around each other in peaceful harmony, at least for a little while. Anyone need a kitten?

There Are Never Enough Daffodils

Spring has exploded. It started out timidly, like a child sticking a toe in the water before diving in. There was just a haze of green over the trees, a few blooms on the southeast side of the house, a hint of warmth in the air. Then, suddenly, violets carpet the yard, spring peepers serenade the evening, and there is an extravagance of daffodils. The bluebells and trout lilies carpet the hillsides and the bloodroot unfurls its leaves in the shady woods. The birds work nonstop, courting and building nests, and there is the intoxicating scent of newly mown grass.
The full moon was last week, a moon bright enough to lure the adventurous outdoors to walk in its light. It, too, seems to enjoy the spring weather and only reluctantly hides its face long after sunrise.
Easter was a perfect spring day, starting with a glorious sunrise and ending with gentle breezes and a sky filled with stars. What more could you ask to celebrate the empty grave?
There are things I will miss about winter – long evenings beside a fire with a good book, lying under warm blankets listening to the wind whip around the eaves, snuggling with a dog on the couch while snowflakes swirl, and early morning walks in a glittering fairy land. But spring brings a freshness that is a renewal of life. It means open windows, and waking up in the mornings to fresh breezes and birdsong.
My mom and I have had a forty year love affair with the wildflowers that bloom along the footpaths and in the deep woods. I have my high school biology teacher, Fay Carothers, to thank for countless happy hours spent rambling and scrambling over every inch of our one hundred acres to find hidden pockets of beauty. It is a spring time tradition with us to view the bluebells that spill down the bluff and the trout lilies that cover the banks of the branch between us and the neighboring farm. One of my favorite memories is the year of the bloodroot, when the hillside appeared to be covered with snow.
If I were in charge, there would be more of spring. More daffodils, more spring breezes, more lilacs. Even now the daffodils are fading. There will be other good things to come. The dogwoods are just beginning to show their color and the tulips are nodding in the breezes. From my window I can see tiny green snowballs on my snowball bush. The rambling rose, which has been on this farm longer than I can remember, is putting out tiny buds. But the daffodils are my favorite – like the essence of sunshine, captured in a flower. I wish I could catch a moment in time and hold it back for a few more weeks. There are just never enough daffodils.