From mice and baby squirrels, Nysse has moved on to birds. He carried in a dead bird and set about to play with it, like with the squirrel. We did not want dead bird all over our floors, so we separated Nysse from the bird (despite his protests), took them both out into the garden and closed the door. Once he got his trophy back, he stopped fighting us and started playing, swatting and pouncing. When he tired of it and came indoors again, it didn’t take more than a minute for a magpie to pick up the leftovers.

I have very mixed feelings about this. I hadn’t expected quite this much killing. But I’m also not prepared to lock up the cat and let it live in misery the rest of its life.

Nysse came home with a hunting trophy today. He’s brought home a mouse before (when I was away and couldn’t take photos so I only have second hand info about this) but this time it was a dead baby squirrel.

I’ve heard that some cats show off their catches to their families. Nysse didn’t. If anything, I got the impression that he didn’t want me to get too close to it. He was giving off strong vibes of bloodlust mixed with playfulness. He took the poor thing to the kitchen and then batted it around among the chair legs for a long while. (It was very dead already.)

I had meetings all afternoon so I didn’t see what he did with it. Only afterwards I found the squirrel’s tail but not the rest of it. Either he took it out of the house again, or ate it without a trace, or hid it somewhere. I hope it’s not the latter. He doesn’t usually hide things, luckily.

Click here to see a photo. It’s not bloody or anything, but if you’d rather not see a cute dead animal, then don’t.

The last weekend in January, BirdLife Sverige has a bird counting event. I’ve been participating for the last five years.

This year we had an absolute invasion of Eurasian siskins during the counting weekend. The largest group swarming around and below the feeder was about thirty birds strong. We also saw goldfinches, blackbirds, and a lonely great tit.

Apparently this year is a siskin year. The Eurasian siskin is number three in the aggregate statistics as of now, and didn’t even make it into the top ten last year. According to the internet, siskins tend to stay for the winter when alder seeds are plentiful.

Blackbirds have been the most consistent visitors at our feeder over the years – they’re the only species I’ve reported every single year. Great tits, blue tits and goldfinches are in shared second place, each seen four out of the five years.

Watching the roe deer in the garden and probably wishing he was big enough to take them on.

A squirrel visited the bird feeder and gorged itself on sunflower seeds. An upside-down working position allowed it to stuff its face with barely any breaks.

Nysse was watching like the hunter he is. Poised, focused, all attention on the squirrel, tail twitching and swishing. In fact his sudden attention was what made us notice the squirrel at all.

Morris is back to feeling comfortable enough to wander around the house and even nap here.

With Nysse being outside more, I’ve been leaving the garden door ajar so that he can get back in when he wants. Now that Morris is also getting bolder, it’s difficult to keep track of which cat is where. I don’t want to lock Nysse out, or lock Morris in overnight. And Adrian doesn’t want any cats in his bedroom when he sleeps. I’m starting to consider GPS trackers – but I can hardly put one on a cat that doesn’t even belong to us…

Also, what kind of a pathetic life do I live, when the only news worth mentioning are about the movements of cats? I need to get a life, but I don’t know how, when everything is on pause or off-limits.

Morris hasn’t given up on us yet.

He turns up at the French doors every other day or so. He comes inside, where he gets an energetic but seemingly friendly nose boop from Nysse. Morris then either leaves again, or cautiously walks around the house – with Nysse trailing him to keep a close eye on things – until he gets himself into a corner that he cannot get out of without walking past Nysse, which he doesn’t dare do. I rescue him by lifting Nysse away, and he relievedly makes a beeline for the door. He mostly looks anxious about the whole experience, but he keeps coming back.

Nysse, meanwhile, exudes an air of curiosity and territorial protectiveness, but seems neither aggressive nor overly anxious. As long as Morris’ presence doesn’t bother him too much, I guess we can keep this up. I’m curious to see where their relationship goes.

Four roe deer had a dance party in the garden today, chasing and jumping after each other. They were difficult to photograph.

At what point does it become silly to take pictures of a cat that isn’t even ours?

On the other hand, if there are more days with cat visits than without, perhaps it sort of is ours, a little bit.

I am seriously considering moving from “cats are really nice” to “let’s get a cat of our own”.

Also, this was a really awkward angle to photograph.