This One's for the Birds

I decided long ago we needed a view from the kitchen sink window, so I planted a pocket garden and added a birdbath. For years, the bath stood alone, out in the open.

Cat Bette loves patrolling (she calls it guarding) the area. She has a history, one littered with evidence of her attacks on birds. When she’s near the birdbath, she’s looking for birds, though she swears she just wants to play with them.

Whatever.  I found feathers on the ground. I saw a drop in the number of birds coming to this watering hole, even as the temperatures soared. With the evidence in, I made a change. Now, the pocket-garden birdbath has become a fortress, built with plants and watering cans that I enlisted from spots all around the garden. This construction is a metaphor for my love-hate relationship with Bette. Her verve contributes to her talent as a garden cat, but her inability to get along with birds (an unreasonable expectation, I know) puts her on my super-bad list.

Predictably, Bette is peeved. She no longer hides in her staging area, off to the right of the birdbath – a fern-covered spot from which she would, with tiger speed and fluidity, attack, slap, hold and kill helpless birds.

Her path now blocked, she slouches around the fortress, grumbling and glowering at me, imploring. She is the great communicator.

She can beg all she wants to; the fortress stands. While it began as a practical way of thwarting the little killer, it immediately appealed as an interesting design. Another good piece of serendipity. Too, the bird viewing has become more interesting, as the birds land on the added plants and architecture, exploring, frolicking, splashing, and looking quite homey.

To be sure, the birds are back.

I'm seriously gratified that they've returned, but knowing how determined (read that irritatingly stubborn) Cat Bette can be, I say this to the birds: Watch your back.

Retired journalist Lee May gardens in East Haddam and blogs at LeeMaysGardeningLife.com