When I peeked through the blinds for the first time yesterday morning (and trust me, it wasn't all that early), a large orange cat was curled contentedly under a clump of wild grass in the garden. The birds were in the trees. The cat seemed oblivious, but the birds were obviously nervous. The food, after all, was on the ground.
Now, bird lover that I am, I still don't generally chase the cat away. This one and a skinny gray striped one are the two that I see most often, and there are four or five others that come around every so often as well. I don't mind, because I haven't seen any rats lately. But the cats don't usually make themselves so comfortable in my garden.
One thing I know is that as soon as I open the front door, any creature close by will flee. That's why you haven't seen pictures of the sight that has me transfixed every day, of my garden alive with a dozen or more birds. They'll always fly off, but they'll be back. The cat isn't approachable, and I knew all I had to do to get him away from the birds would be to open the door.
So there aren't any photos of the cat in the grass. I did happen to capture him later in the afternoon, sitting comfortably on the fence post, scanning my yard on one side and the field on the other.
This was as close as he would let me get, though.