Well, as a mere Occicat, I must confess to being a little confused.
Since Springtime, I have carried out my usual morning routine of breakfast in the back garden, followed by ablutions somewhere quiet and private. That is, when the weather is good, the mistress Granny Bonnet puts my dish outside under the nut tree where I warily guzzle down my food as fast as possible just in case any woozles are about. Then my stomach just about allows me to push under the garden gate and out into the field next door.
Once breakfast has settled and after I've cleaned my whiskers and coat, if the mood takes me I can either rush about trying to catch mice or pretend I'm stalking pheasants. Otherwise, I just rest, sitting and staring into the distance for ages or I snooze under the shade of a tree.
Us house cats really do appreciate a routine you know and so it came as something of a shock a few days ago to be driven indoors by the frightening sounds of something extremely heavy and noisy thumping along close by. There was much rumbling for two or three hours and then, when it finally died down and I dared to venture back out under the garden gate, there it was gone! My field that is, or was...
It had been almost entirely gobbled up as if by some voracious monster. Or rather the corn that had formed the basis of my interest and observations for the last few months had been eaten and then spewed back out in neat rows.
It was as if I had blinked away a dream it all happened so fast. I slouched back inside to complain but all I could hear was Granny saying that before the advent of mechanised harvesters, (whatever they are), it would have taken many men days and days to cut the corn, then more long hours to sheaf and stack it. All I thought was that at least it would have given cats like me plenty of time to see what small creatures could be flushed out from between the stalks. But no, from a human point of view as Granny rightly said, this is the 21st century and the harvester was very efficient (whatever that is), as it cut the corn and simultaneously spewed out the grain into a giant hopper pulled by a tractor running alongside it.
To top it all, the next day, along came another great thumping machine Granny called a baler that tidied up all those exciting new heaps of stalks I had briefly explored and which no doubt hid many of those pesky woozles that bother me from time to time.
Ah well, at least the rooks have returned now they can get nearer the ground to eat beetles and worms (yuk!), and already the first of the sea-gulls have arrived to check out when the ploughing will begin. It all makes me wonder idly what crop I shall have to contend with next year? I quite like it when we have oil seed rape, it's so colourful and cheery. It does tend to get a bit tangled and smelly towards the end of its flowering but I can take it.
So, bring it on Mr. Farmer! I shall be watching and waiting from my vantage point on the edge of your field. When you visit, just try to be quick, kind and considerate please old chap and keep the noise down a bit as the wildlife and I can find it all rather unnerving. Miaow!
