First Catch Your Pigeon...

I came home this afternoon to find both kittens looking guilty. I assumed that they had knocked something over, or perhaps had brought home yet another stag beetle. If stag beetles actually do become extinct, I suspect that my two little hooligans will be partly responsible.

I walked into the sitting room, and found that it was covered in feathers.

There were so many feathers that I thought they'd ripped open one of my pillows, or perhaps the duvet. Then I remembered that I don't have any feather pillows, and the duvet is synthetic too. I realised that some sort of battle had been going on, because several balls of paper, pens and ping-pong balls had been unearthed as well.

Furretti was going into ecstasies over one of the feathers she had caught...

Miaowrini was prowling around by a small side table between the sofa and the bookcase. I prepared myself to find blood, guts and other gore, but the erstwhile owner of the feathers appeared to be very much alive, and fighting back, which explained Miaowrini's cautious approach...

It seems that, while there are some basic instincts in operation here, the kittens (both of whom were abandoned) are rather at a loss once they succeed in catching their prey and bringing it home. They obviously need mum to show them how to dispatch the critters... or perhaps I just feed them too well...

I grabbed a towel, pulled the sofa out (there were even more feathers strewn along behind the sofa) and snaffled the pigeon. I was a little unsure as to how badly injured it was - there appeared to be chunks missing from its wings, and bite marks near its neck - but when I opened the towel outside, the bird flew off - very unsteadily, but it did eventually made it up to the safety of a neighbouring rooftop.