Natural Selection

So I'm something of a weenie when it comes to watching wildlife programs like Nature, National Geographic, and Planet Earth. I can't stand getting all attached to some cute little fuzzy baby that eventually gets chomped on by some big snarling brute of a predator. Well guess what? National Geographic played out on our porch yesterday, and I'm just devastated.

We have these birds who built a nest on our porch right after we finished building the house. Every year, they've come back to their nest to make new baby birdies. I love watching them fluff up the nest, guard the eggs, and feed the babies. Even Bosley enjoys watching them from the window. Yesterday morning, a little after five, there was a hellacious racket out front. By the time I got to the window, I couldn't see anything and the birds had quieted down. Bosley, however, continued growling. And that's when I spotted it--that fat ass Persian cat from across the street.

Yes, you can guess what happened next. Total effing massacre. One birdie was flattened on the sidewalk. The two other babies survived and hid in my flowers. Bosley kept barking at them in his high-pitched concern bark as if trying to tell them to get airborn before the cat returned. But, of course, they were too young. The mommy and daddy bird tried to protect them and get them to fly but it was no use.

This morning the mommy bird is nowhere to be seen. I'm convinced she's offed herself. Dave tells me birds don't get post-partum depression or grieve but I don't buy it. Even the daddy bird looked rather bereaved this morning when I went out to water my plants. So sad...

I'm all hormonal and anything baby-related turns on the water works so I wept like a little girl. I'm so angry at that filthy bastard cat. First it digs up my flower beds and craps in them. Now it killed my baby birds. I'm tempted to let Bosley loose on it the next time it scampers into my yard.