On the Shores of Our Inland Sea

This may be considered part two of the previous entry about wildlife. This one deals with seagulls. We have them here in southern Alberta. We are 463 miles (745 kilometres) from Vancouver, and the nearest sea or ocean. They are definitely seagulls: they sound like them and look like them, down to the webbed feet.

I noticed them decades ago, and wondered how they arrived here. I was told many years past that the gulls followed the settlers’ wagons here. That explanation is of course silly, for a number of reasons.

Assuming that all settlers started from harbour towns – which is improbable - why would sea-birds leave the coast? I was informed that they liked what settlers threw, as garbage, out the back of their wagons. Well, I think settlers – frugal people - aren’t going to discard so much that they would entice gulls away from a sure and easily obtained buffet on the seashore.

If the birds pursued colonists’ wagons, why did they not follow others’? Pedlars, soldiers, navvies building roads… And why would they follow settlers all the way to the prairies? Why are there not flocks of seagulls all along the route from the St Lawrence to Alberta?

No, clearly there is another explanation for the presence of these birds-out-of-water. They have been in this town for as long as I can remember, but flying about this apartment building is new. Not having fish to catch, the gulls have turned to scavenging, and are rivals of the crows. I have seen fewer magpies this year, and more crows, and many more gulls. As may be observed, they visit the outsider-cats’ dish from time to time, to see what leftovers may be had. I don’t begrudge them a meal. Nature’s restaurant is not always well-stocked with every species’ favourite fare.

Other than Hugo (who is now known to be Finn, a cat with a home, though perhaps not as much soft-food as he would like), I have had no outsider-cats visiting Café Cosy. Sable and Sablette have not been seen for a couple of months. So, if a skunk (perhaps Horace, from last year) wishes to eat the hard-food during the night, and seagulls the soft-food remnants during the day, I won’t turn them away. Wildlife needs all the help it can get these days, even – or especially – those expatriates, the seagulls, on the dry shores of our inland sea.

How We Enjoy the New Day

Two years ago, while on my holidays, I saw and photographed a young deer along the side of the street down which I had been bicycling one morning. This year, I saw another.

He may, conceivably, be the same deer, though I suspect not. Deer are not uncommon sights in and around my town. And this one was not on the outskirts, as was the previous, but in the long-settled part of town, not far from the hospital, and just a few yards from a major thoroughfare.

He was untroubled by either my presence or the passing motor traffic. He grazed on grass and the new leaves of young trees. He didn’t seem very hungry, just peckish. I may have caught him at the end of his breakfast. He took time out for a satisfying scratch.

Then he crossed the street. He waited for some cars to go by, then trotted onto the asphalt. I was afraid coming automobiles would not see him, and I was prepared to stop traffic if I had to – no risk to me, mind you; I had plenty of space and time to halt it. But all the drivers paused for the four-footed pedestrian. The last I saw of him was that he was munching a few more leaves among denser trees under the windows of the local palliative care centre.

This is one of the advantages of being up and about so early. I am of course awake and active just as early when not on my holidays, but one rarely sees wildlife from the windowless room in which I drudge. Rabbits, deer and birds not usually seen or heard are rewards for such early mornings, those and the freshness of the dawn, which I enjoy now much more than when I was young. Such appreciation probably comes with age. After all, this youthful ungulate didn’t seem to care about encountering a middle-aged bicyclist in the light of a new day.

Letter from a Tranquil Lake

My holidays have commenced and, so far, I like them. It has long been a belief of mine that unemployment would be the ideal state for most people in the world, if it were not for the usual accompaniment of poverty. Unfortunately, to forestall the latter, I must have a gainful job, at least eventually. For now, though, I have free time at my disposal. This is where I imagine myself today.

Back in the cosy apartment, Cammie is doing adequately in her new role of household blind cat. She mastered the tall staircase swiftly. The day after I demonstrated to her how she could use the steps to her advantage, I saw her using them on her own, descending hesitantly but definitely to the floor from the bed. She soon decided that what was good for going down served equally well for going up. She now uses the tall staircase in both directions. She continues to use the shorter set at the foot of the bed, but most often for going down.

At night, once I am comfortably in bed, I will talk to Cammie and, if she is in the mood, she will come and lie on my head. Instead of leaping up to the top of the mattress as previously, though, she will climb the stairs. I hear a gentle, repetitious ‘thump’ as she takes each step in turn; then, a grey form in the gloom appears level with my eyes, and the princess finds her spot. This takes a little more time and effort than it once did, and I have been kneed in the chin, kicked in the eye and scratched on the nose as my blind cat settles down.

She wanders about the apartment, trying still to gain her bearings. Sometimes, she may not know where she is, or who is near her. Raleigh has taken a liking to the new towel / blankets, and risked the wrath of the princess to enjoy the one in the bedroom.

I am sad that Cammie does not have much stimuli these days. She never played much before, and being unable to see anything makes any attempt to play more of a threat than an entertainment. But I spend time with her, and hearing her purr in return shows that she still finds some enjoyment in life. As for me, my Siamese girl may be sightless, but she remains a vision.

As for the others, Raleigh is suffering through another illness, something along the lines of a cold. His eyes run, his nose drips, he looks miserable. But he continues to eat, thank goodness, and even gamely tries to play. I am trying to reduce his Prednisolone dosage at the moment; since I am on holiday, I can gauge the reaction better. That drug connives with his FIV to lower his immunity to ailments even further, but he needs it to fight his stomatitis. It is to be hoped, however, that the amount he receives will be increasing diminished. I will be obtaining some anti-biotics for him, and will make a doctor’s appointment for next week. He will hate that, but it’s about time we had a professional look inside Peachy’s mouth, and see its state.

The other three (I am still getting used to the smaller number of cats here since the second day of June) are as they always are. Here Renn and Josie are doing what they seem to love best, roasting in the evening sunshine. And, in case you can’t go without seeing the roly poly being cute, here is Tucker, with his chin resting on a little toy-mouse, the tiniest pillow he could find.

The Journey to Idylland

Take me with you when you go

To the land of gentle breezes,

Where the peaceful waters flow.

“Snowbird”

Written by Gene MacLellan

Sung by Anne Murray

I start my holidays at the end of work today. They are later in coming this year than last. I thought that I would be needed to volunteer at an event for the PAW Society the first week of July, an event that I would better serve if I had a day or two off, so I set my holidays back a month. As it turns out, I will not be required to volunteer. But the change of dates of my holidays matters little, though it does seem a little longer a wait for them this year because of the circumstances. But they are here now, and that’s what counts.

I will be travelling to Idylland, where the villages are pretty, the fields lush and the people content. That doesn’t mean I won’t have much to do. I have cat-trees to clean, windows to wash, store-rooms to clean and re-arrange, and the PAW calendar to finish. But I will be working at home, with time to ride my bicycle, read, listen to music and, of course, spend with the cats.

I may even just lie in a green field and look at the clouds.

Not Once, but Twice

Cammie used her new stairs yesterday evening, not once but twice.

The first time, she was on the bed and wanted to get down. She kept leaning far over the edge, holding on to the bedspread with three feet, while trying to find the floor with the fourth. Of course, the floor was far out of her reach. She was deciding whether simply to drop, and clearly disliked the idea. I started tapping the first level of the big staircase with the palm of my hand, while saying, “Cammie, step…step, Cammie, step…” It took several minutes of indecision on her part, but the princess eventually followed the sound of my hand and placed a paw cautiously on the top step. I patted each lower step in succession, and she descended almost gracefully to the floor.

The second time, later that night, Cammie was on the bed and it was obvious that she wanted down. It appeared to me that she was searching for the stairs she had used earlier. I repeated the process of patting the steps and talking to her. She came over after only about fifteen seconds of meandering, and walked down the steps in half the previous time.

Knowing cats, I realise it may be a few days - or a year - before she determines to use the stairs again. But she knows they are there, and will, I am sure, start to use them on her own. It will make getting her to use the smaller set easier, too. Once that’s accomplished, she will learn to differentiate between the two, and know how to use each of them. Even now, however, I hope my princess’s life has just become a little less stressful.

Steps in the Right Direction

Continuing the subject of my previous entry, I have items in the cosy apartment that are new to us.

This past weekend, I rode out to where all the box stores are in our city, far to the south. I had found on Rona’s website a small, plastic step-stool that would, I felt, be ideal for placement against the side of the bed, allowing Cammie a less stressful ascent and descent from and to the floor. The journey by bicycle is not strenuous, though it does constitute a few miles. But Rona did not have the stool in stock. Lowe’s had nothing similar. Canadian Tire, Peavey Mart, Walmart were all without anything even close to what I wanted.

After three houyrs of riding and searching, I stopped at Superstore (its official name is the Real Canadian Superstore, no doubt to differentiate it from the fake ones) and bought some Fancy Feast that was on sale. I also checked for a stool there, but was unsurprised to find none.

While waiting to pay for my cat-food, however, I met a woman who, with her husband, had adopted a cat from the PAW Society three years before. They and the rescue-group had remained in touch, as their cat had a few digestive issues. The cat is doing very well now and is, in fact, more active and friendly than ever. I described to her my tribulations in locating a stool to assist Cammie, and she suggested that she take one of theirs. They had a couple of stools they were not using. They would even drop it off for me.

Needless to write, I was very grateful, especially when the couple decided to give me both of the stools they were not using. Yesterday, I was able to place them by the bed. The smaller does not reach as high as the other, but it will allow Cammie to feel the first step before letting go of the bed, an improvement on simply dropping, literally blindly, to the floor.

Cammie has not used them yet, and it will take some time for her to decide to do so. She likely is not even aware that they are there, and I don’t want to force her to realise it. When I am present and see her trying to drop from the bed, I will point them out by patting their surfaces. I am attempting to teach her the word ‘step’. For the time being, they will be just more obstacles for her to bump into but, with luck and perseverance (mine and hers), they will become useful furniture to make her days and nights easier.

I just have to remember that the steps are there, otherwise sprains and concussions may become familiar to me as I rise from bed on dark mornings…

New Comforts

There is a corner of my apartment building, on the landing of a staircase, just within one of the doors, at which items are placed that the owners no longer want, but which they think may be of use to others. It is, in fact, a corner for recycling older but still serviceable articles. They may be glasses, cutlery, picture frames, pots for plants, or any other household item. Very few are tattered or unusable. The tenants use their common sense. The objects are free, of course, and usually are taken by another tenant; items that stay for a long time are disposed of by the resident manager to a thrift-shop. I myself have placed a few objects there.

Last week, someone put several large bath-towels in the corner. I didn’t want to use them for myself, but I knew who would. I gathered them up, washed them and laid them down in a couple of spots for the cats’ benefit. I already had towels there serving as blankets, but these are growing thin; the new ones are thick and soft. They have met with the critics’ approval.

I find the informal exchange of household items quite purposeful and sensible. There are many in which I am not interested, and those which I would not re-use. But by and large the objects I see on offer would come in handy to someone. And you can’t beat the price.