Izzy's at it again. He's suffering his own bout of spring fever, and his way of dealing with it is to snatch poor little birdies and bring them into the house. In the past two weeks, he's captured a gorgeous cardinal, presented me with a sparrow, and today I came home to find the scene of a crime playing out in my bedroom.
There were feathers on the bed, one perched on the toilet seat, and a floor full of them in the closet. But no little birdy carcass.
I checked around the house, didn't find anything. Finally, I found Izzy with his head under the bed and his stumpy tail twitching. I raised up the bedskirt thinking I'd find something worthy of CSI and came eye to beady eye with a dove staring back at me.
I never expected to find the poor thing alive!
Reached in, grabbed it up before the hunter pounced again, and took it outside. It looked at me, I looked at it, and saw that most of the feathers on its back were missing, as well as a chunk of flesh. I was searching for a place to stash it out of reach when it suddenly took off flying across into the neighbor's tree. Here's hoping it actually recovers from its run-in with a certain little black cat.
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(The picture is from Christmas when he was staked out under the tree, possibly waiting to bag Santa. I like the fang effect.)
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