To Kill a Mockingbird

Puff, a cat we had when I was a young boy and who has been mentioned here before, had a lot of problems with a certain mockingbird pair that nested in a tree near our house every year. Seeing the kitten as a potential threat to their young, the birds would swoop down and peck at him whenever they spied him outside. He was no match for this sort of aerial assault.

This must have been a source of some stress for the little kitty. The day came, however, when he was big enough to deal with the problem directly. No doubt the issue had been in the back of his feline mind for years, and at length a plan took shape. When the time was right, he executed.

I was playing outside when Puff made his move. One of the mockingbirds was flying toward the nest. It followed a predictable route; a route Puff had noted well. Its flight path took the bird to within several feet of another tree. This fateful day, Puff was waiting there. He leapt from the upper branches of the tree, a good 50 feet off the ground, and snatched the mockingbird out of the air in a splash of feathers.

Joined as one by Puff's claws, the two plummeted earthward and crashed into the yard. Within a couple of minutes, nothing remained of the bird but a scattering of feathers up and down the block.