Farm Kitties
Five years ago, our daughter Meggie was visiting our farm. While helping her dad round up the chickens and ducks, she heard a soft mewing. Over the next few hours she repeatedly returned to the barn to trace the sound of the mewing. Success came that afternoon, just before she left for the airport. A small black and white kitten had fallen through the floor of barn’s loft and was caught between the loft’s floor boards and the rafter of the main floor’s ceiling. Standing on a ladder she mewed to the kitten until he came to her.
This kitten, who is now our beloved cat Simon, was the first of several barn kitties that we rescued, bottle fed and either kept (Simon, Molly, Smudge and Sammy) or placed with family (Rover/Rizzo) or friends (Agatha/Anya). All of these cats are a blessing. Although bottle feeding a kitten or in few instances, several kittens, every four hours was a daunting task, the end result, healthy cats who are closely bonded with us, was well worth it.
Trying to prevent a population explosion of barn cats, my husband and I trapped and spayed and neutered the adult cats that live in our barn and on our property. Even with this, we feed and shelter quite a few barn cats. These cats were born in the barn and never found until they were beyond the age of taming. Although I feed them twice a day every day, they are shy, waiting for their food at distance. Only one of these cats, the one I call Tundra, has ever come up to me, brushed up against me.
My husband and I as well as guests to the farm enjoy watching them. In the summer, on particularly hot and humid days, they drape themselves across our walkways and driveways. And for animals that are supposedly aloof and lone animals, they often sleep in a pile or walk next to each other—brushing up to one another. Several of them sleep on our front stoop and I often spy them looking inside the front door and main floor windows. When I see this my heart breaks for them—what great housecats they would have been.
It has been a few years since we bottle fed the last round of kittens. Then six weeks ago, a friend called and asked if I would take some kittens she found in her barn. They needed to be bottle fed. My husband and I agreed to take them—four kittens. We have homes for each of them-friends and family who have met our bottled fed cats always ask us to keep them in mind if we find more kittens.
Once again, the race was on for kitten formula and nursing kits. These were more difficult to find this time round—the Covid-19 scare has rendered certain items, like nursing kits and kitten formula, scarce. Luckily, there are quite a few pet shops nearby and online pet stores where we were able to stock up on supplies that carried us through the bottle-feeding stage.
At first, they were timid and scared, hissing and cowering when we reached out to pick them up. But within a few days they settled in and began to run to us. We knew were had succeeded when they began to purr. Ivy, the tortoise shell kitty, was the first to purr. Within a few days Mistletoe, Holly and Taylor all purred when we picked them up, cuddled them and fed them.
At about 9 weeks old, their personalities are more defined. From cautious Ivy to bold Holly, cuddly Taylor, and brave Mistletoe, they are all thriving. They eat canned and dry food. They run, play and tumble. When I walk up the stairs to the room where we keep them, they come running to greet me. I bend down and scoop them up and they purr, before they break free to play.
While we gave them food and love, they gave us so much more in return. In a year of turmoil and uncertainty, these kittens blessed our lives with joy, laughter, and hope. They gave us a routine and order. They took us out of ourselves.
Next week, our daughter and her family will come to visit. When they leave, they will take their kitten. And by September the kittens will all be in their new homes. As each one leaves, a piece of my heart will go with them.
