Crazy cat lady

A lapse in judgement, a smoking gun

The sound smashes into my morning, causing a momentary rumble in the bric-a-brac and snapping me away from my task. I can’t immediately identify the source, but within seconds of peering out the front door, I see a story emerge. 

Gunshot. The caretaker has fired a round on the other side of the property, past the pole building, behind the barn. 

My heart races. From his right hand, a mottled white form droops, like a soiled rag, brushing against his suspender-supported work pants as he walks, purposefully, toward the water’s edge. 

Our relationship has gotten off to an awkward start. After close to five decades of looking after the farm, he’s leaning into the perceived threat of being replaced by a pair of youngsters newly arrived from lord even knows where. It doesn’t matter that our roles are designed to remain distinct, or that my husband and I have no intention of displacing him. He is civil but not exactly friendly, devoted to his work, and prepared to defend his territory from intruders of all kinds. 

I gather, because he’s mentioned his concerns, that birds have gone missing, or babies, or eggs. Knowing almost nothing about pigeons and struggling to find my way through his notable, local accent, I only get the gist: production is down. 

These are farm pigeons, not city types, the squab a delicious and uncommon option on the local food scene. But they aren’t my responsibility, so the issue really isn’t mine to resolve. Though not specifically implicated, our two formerly feral cats have, undoubtedly, crossed everyone’s minds. I don’t suspect the female. But, for an easy snack, or a bit of sport, I can’t put it past her 14-pound brother to have found his way into that coop. 

Today, from the living room of the cottage, I see the caretaker, strong despite his advancing years, propel something lifeless into the creek. When he turns, without a hint of hesitation, and heads back toward the barn, the horror of it hits me. I nearly dislocate the wobbly, glass knob that predictably demands extra fiddling before doing what it’s designed to do, but now, door flung wide, I’m in an all-out sprint. We converge, simultaneously, at the scene of the crime, the smoking gun against the steps of the pigeon coop.

“Luther!” I wail, my tone shrill and desperate. “What have you done??!” I can’t name it without coming unglued.

He is agitated, an expletive punctuating a string of incomprehensible mumblings, but I think I hear him say snake. I follow his gaze to a plate-sized hole in the wire mesh.

“SNAKE?!” I barely keep myself from shrieking. My face is on fire. “What did you throw in the creek?”

The churn in his eyes dissolves into something more tentative. He doesn’t look at me as he explains. 

There was a snake in the coop. He aimed and missed his mark, taking out a pigeon instead. The snake disappeared. He threw the dead bird in the water. He doesn’t like snakes. 

It won’t be the last time Luther and I misunderstand each other, but we will eventually grow from adversaries into allies, friends who can laugh together about our mistakes. My cats will go on to live all nine of their lives, never once interfering with the farm flocks. The pigeon-keeping project will fizzle, a combination of poor health and lack of help for harvesting. I will remember their luminous presence, their gentle voices, their generous behavior.

~Elizabeth

One of many brushes with catastrophe (pun intended) on the farm, this day’s mistakes did not have lasting consequences, except for the one poor pigeon. Not all gun stories turn out this well. Shortly after the Apalachee High School shooting, I wrote about the critical need for gun safety reform, noting that the most accessible action for many is to vote.

You can register or update your registration here, and you can also confirm that your voting status is active. There have been many reports of unexpected issues there, so it’s best to not make assumptions.

Assumptions have a way of getting us into some sticky situations, don’t they? Have you ever accused someone of something they didn’t do, or been accused yourself? Let’s bring it to the comments so we can learn from each other. And, thanks in advance for taking a moment to like, share, and restack these posts to help me reach a wider audience.

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