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Thursday, 21 May 2015

Super Partes Interventionism

I’m still trying to figure out if “super partes interventionism” is an oxymoron or not.

Where does it come from? Well, I invented it. Not in absolute terms, but I just came up with it for myself.
I arrived home last night to find three cats in my garden. A gray one, an orange one, and the black one. The black one. He is one special fellow. To me he is anyway. It is a pleasure to be greeted by him. The instant he sees me, he stops all activity, and with his tail straight up in the air, he runs towards me meowing quite incessantly, to then throw himself at my feet belly in the air so that I may stoop down and pet him. And as I gently caress him, he closes his eyes and remains quite still, closes his paws and looks like he could fall asleep any instant. What fascinates me is that I don’t feed him.
I used to have a black cat when I was a child, and she was very much the same. She was at my grandmother’s place and whenever I used to visit and she heard my name being called, she would suddenly appear from out of nowhere and rush into the house so that child and cat could indulge in a captivated and silent exchange of affection.
Anyway, I obviously have a dilemma: cat love on the one side - bird protection on the other. And the two just don’t mix. Uhm.

The dilemma is not acute right this moment. The female Blue Tit is still brooding, so there is not much visible activity going on. Inside the box she sits there, turns the eyes at regular intervals, changes position. But it is all very silent. It all passes very much unobserved even for the most attentive of cat eyes.
The question is what happens when things start “living”.

I will need to find a solution. Protect the nest somehow from the outside.

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