‘What is the cat doing?’ At the same time my friend asks the question, a cry comes from the sky. A magpie flutters. We hear the sound of her wings. Monty, our red haired European cat, ticks with her paw against something on the sand. The something moves. It has small wings and lies on its back. The small greyish bird with a very long and sharp beak seems to have broken its wing. I take it in my hand and we go to the vet.
‘Wow, a baby kingfisher! This is a rare bird. Maybe, it can be saved. The wing is not broken, but he is hurt.’ She shows the wounds underneath the lamed wing. It lost feathers too.
Back home the kingfisher seems a bit better. He drinks and eats the flies we catch and the small amount of fish we put in his nursery. The whole family is busy caring for the tiny animal. The cat is curious. She creeps around the cage. Sits down mesmerized, looking for an opportunity to gormandize her stolen meal. Snitsel is fascinated by the jumping bird. The Border collie joins the cat in awe. She is his teacher and he already knows how to catch mice. Swallowing a bird will be a new experience. But we took measurements; neither of them can get close to the bird.
Before we bunker in our beds, we see the kingfisher sitting on the bottom of the cage. Head into feathers. It doesn’t look good. We decide to let it rest. Our baby kingfisher took these words literally. This morning we found him dead in the cage. The cat is indignant: she lost out on a good meal for nothing.
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