I was in our garden yesterday morning when Romeo, a neighbour’s tom tabby, came mincing along the top of the metal fence heading for a long line of evergreen shrubbery
in an adjacent yard which contains at least two active blackbirds’ nests.
Seconds later a male Common Blackbird launched a series of dives at Romeo venting its alarm call continually while a pair of Magpie Larks called stridently from power
lines and House Sparrows flew from tree to tree twittering madly. Despite all the avian angst Romeo continued blithely along his nefarious way and, surprisingly, the blackbird left the scene but returned a moment later flying along a metre above the fence.
When it reached a point just aft of the cat it sheared upwards and I saw a white amorphous object tumble from the bird and, whether a surreal feat of marksmanship or equally bizarre happenstance, the missile struck the back of Romeo’s head causing him to break
stride and stop, stretch forward and scrub his head with a forepaw. Perhaps the hot excretory projectile had penetrated his fur and was irritating his epidermis. Anyhow, running maintenance completed, Romeo sat atop the fence looking a mite
nonpussed nonplussed before dropping into his own backyard as peace returned to the garden and no birds sang.
John Layton
Holt.
