happydalek (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
happydalek) wrote2007-06-04 10:43 pm
happydalek) wrote2007-06-04 10:43 pm
Killing small animals
Actually, that title is a bit misleading. I killed nothing, but I watched a baby bunny lose its life tonight. It was a real, live, furry little bunny that mistakenly wandered away from its mommy and into the unforgiving clutches of my mother's two cats.
Bunnies make the most awful squeaking cries of agony in the animal kingdom. My mother valiantly managed to free the critter from the smaller of the two cats, only to have it seized upon by the other, which promptly proceeded to wound it. And once a wild animal is wounded, that's pretty much it. I shooed my frantic mother inside and calmly watched the cat eviscerate and kill the little thing as its mother bunny looked on from the edge of the yard. If the cat hadn't ended it quickly, I was prepared to do it myself with a suitably-sized rock, since I was concerned about having the neighbors disturbed the squeaking. Fortunately, the cat broke the little one's back and that stopped its squealing. The mother bunny left not long after it stopped squeaking, sensing that the cause was lost. I got the body from the cat (so it couldn't eat it), bagged it and tossed it in the trash can.
It was a cute little thing, maybe six inches long, covered in dappled brown fur and with the tiniest little buck teeth, slightly younger-looking than the bunny I saved a week ago. The cat ripped a huge gash in its gut, just above its left hind leg, exposing its intestines. In the end, though, I think it died from a broken neck or crushed windpipe.
Cats are not "humane" about these things, no.
I wasn't too disturbed by this, since earlier today I had to destroy a bird's nest in my air conditioner. Every year the birds try to nest there, but usually the space is too small and the birds too large to make it work, plus the cats like to lurk and poke their claws through, which tends to dissuade the feathered ones. In the end, I think that's what happened, except that by then they'd already built a nest and laid two little, spotted eggs in it which I found today. I threw out the nest materials and the eggs.
Bunnies make the most awful squeaking cries of agony in the animal kingdom. My mother valiantly managed to free the critter from the smaller of the two cats, only to have it seized upon by the other, which promptly proceeded to wound it. And once a wild animal is wounded, that's pretty much it. I shooed my frantic mother inside and calmly watched the cat eviscerate and kill the little thing as its mother bunny looked on from the edge of the yard. If the cat hadn't ended it quickly, I was prepared to do it myself with a suitably-sized rock, since I was concerned about having the neighbors disturbed the squeaking. Fortunately, the cat broke the little one's back and that stopped its squealing. The mother bunny left not long after it stopped squeaking, sensing that the cause was lost. I got the body from the cat (so it couldn't eat it), bagged it and tossed it in the trash can.
It was a cute little thing, maybe six inches long, covered in dappled brown fur and with the tiniest little buck teeth, slightly younger-looking than the bunny I saved a week ago. The cat ripped a huge gash in its gut, just above its left hind leg, exposing its intestines. In the end, though, I think it died from a broken neck or crushed windpipe.
Cats are not "humane" about these things, no.
I wasn't too disturbed by this, since earlier today I had to destroy a bird's nest in my air conditioner. Every year the birds try to nest there, but usually the space is too small and the birds too large to make it work, plus the cats like to lurk and poke their claws through, which tends to dissuade the feathered ones. In the end, I think that's what happened, except that by then they'd already built a nest and laid two little, spotted eggs in it which I found today. I threw out the nest materials and the eggs.
There was once a time when either one of these two occurrences would have sent me bawling into my pillows, wracked with regret that I couldn't have done more, feeling sorry that they had to die. Now, I just shrug and say "that's nature."