Ferals in the Morning

I and a colleague at my work-place feed and water a small colony of feral cats. We conducted several operations over a few years aimed at spaying and neutering all the ferals we could catch - some may recall reading about those adventures - and we eventually got them all. Most of the kittens were put into homes. A number of the adults eventually disappeared, no doubt dying before their time, as is often the case with ferals; at least they did not reproduce before then. Those in the photographs below comprise the hard-core feral membership. In the first picture are Bijou (grey and white); Bauble (black and white facing the camera); Sonata (very dark tortoiseshell) and Fresca or Shasta (left side toward the camera; differentiating those two is very difficult); Shasta or Fresca is at the second dish, and Mirko is nearest the camera.

In the second photograph is Auvergne, who prefers to dine alone at his table for one. The third image is Auvergne when he was trapped, almost seven years ago. Perhaps tellingly, he was caught because he came to eat the bait before any of the others arrived. Even then, he was eating by himself.

All are male except for Sonata and Bauble, who, despite her slight size, produced the four last kittens I had to trap.

The ferals are doing well, considering their outsider lifestyle. Bijou has some matts but sheds the worst of them. They have suffered some visible infections but have recovered. They get along, though none seems to like Auvergne, and Mirko hisses at everyone. But at meal-times, I can pet them, and this morning, Mirko followed me after I set out the food, and asked for head-scratches. It’s the first time he’s done that. I think several of these, such as Mirk and Bijou, could be insider-cats, given a great deal of time and patience. Unfortunately, we don’t have enough foster-homes for the socialised cats who need them, never mind ferals.

But these ones are being fed, and given clean water. Where they go between meals, I cannot guess. I never see them except when food is in the offing, but I suspect they associate together in their free time. They’ve survived frigid, wet winters and dry, blazing summers, and have lasted longer than most outsiders. We’ll take care of them for as long as we can, and, if need be, and if we are able, we will see them off at the end, when their times have run out. I imagine, however, they will, one by one, simply stop showing up for meals. That will sadden me. But we all stop showing up for our meals sooner or later; it’s what we do until then that matters; whom we meet, how we behave, and whether we abandon some our disadvantageous behaviour along the way. Just like these ferals in the morning.