The Wrath of the Black Birds

I let Einer out for his afternoon stroll around the yard (he never ventures far from the bushes around the house and the shade of our back yard).

I never think twice about this.

However, that all changed today. As I was talking to Kristie on the phone, I heard the black birds squawking like mad. When I got off the phone, I opened the back door and saw a half dozen black birds squawking and hopping from our roof to our trees. I thought, oh they’re keeping an eye on Einstein and alerting any others to his presence.

That is how I usually locate Einer when I want to corral him and bring him in. Wherever the birds are making the most racket is where I will find him, usually hunkered down beneath a tree or bush.

I peered into the bushes on the side of the house, but Einer was nowhere to be found. So I walked around to the front of the house.

I saw Einer crouched on the front steps peering up at the door.

“Boy, these black birds sure have it out for you,” I said.

Then he turned to look at me.

And I saw why those black birds were in such an uproar.

He had one of their loved ones clenched in his jaws!

Its beak was open, one of its wings dangled awkwardly out from its side and its little black stick feet were in the air.

Einer’s tale thrashed and he crouched closer to the crack of the door, eager to get inside and share his prize with Mischa, who had her nose right up against the screen door, licking her chops.

It took a couple good whacks on Einer’s head to get him to release the poor animal. Then I gave his considerable rump a swift kick to get him inside.

The poor bird just sat there on the steps, mouth agape, one wing tucked in while the other was obviously damaged as it dangled off to the side, and its feet motionless.

I thought about just leaving it in the grass or bushes, but then I figured some other animal would get the poor thing so I had to put it out of its misery with a good stomp to the head.

The whole thing was worse than the time Einer caught a baby squirrel. At least when I made him relinquish it, the squirrel managed to make to a tree and climb up. This damn bird just stared up at me with those beady little eyes.

Of course, Einer was happy as a clam.

How in the hell can a 25-pound cat manage to catch a nimble bird? I figure either it was injured already (perhaps it was one of those poor birds that crash into our windows daily) or it was one hell of an ambush.

Either way, Einer looks just a bit more menacing to me now.

I banished him to the basement and he is whining to come back up. There seems to be a note in his plea that rings a little more hungrily than it used to just yesterday. Plus, that drop up blood on his chin doesn’t help matters either.