I was watching a cat, a
half-wild creature, that was watching a red squirrel making a great
fuss over some nuts which he had hidden, and which he claimed somebody
had stolen. Somewhere behind us, Kookooskoos was watching from a pine
tree. The squirrel was chattering in the midst of a whirlwind of
leaves and empty shells which he had thrown out on the snow from under
the wall; behind him the cat, creeping nearer and nearer, had crouched
with blazing eyes and quivering muscles, her whole attention fixed on
the spring, when broad wings shot silently over my hiding place and
fell like a shadow on the cat. One set of strong claws gripped her
behind the ears; the others were fastened like a vise in the spine.
Generally one such grip is enough; but the cat was strong, and at the
first touch sprang away. In a moment the owl was after her, floating,
hovering above, till the right moment came, when he dropped and struck
again. Then the cat whirled and fought like a fury. For a few moments
there was a desperate battle, fur and feathers flying, the cat
screeching like mad, the owl silent as death.
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