It was a silent little garden. The birds had their nests. A squirrel also. The birds sang. Everything changed since the kittens' arrival. It's just an endless noisy day full of birdie distress calls. The garden lizards have vanished. I saw one of the kittens vomiting a semi-digested stuff...looked like rotten lizard pickle. So my forecast comes true. The squirrels who used the cloth line to go to their nest on the tree are playing safe. The tailorbirds, the prinias, the robins, the bulbuls. All have to use a major part of their energies in shouting warning calls all through the day.
One of the tiny hunters was seen escaping with what looked like a sparrow tail in its mouth. Was it one of the prinias. I can't hear their meek peen-peen-peen today. The miniature leopards are taking full advantage of their light weight and reach nests tucked among the highest branches about 25 feet above ground. Not that I haven't tried to bribe them with malai milk, that too pure buffalo wala, in order to keep their hunger satiated. They but prefer the raw furred delicacies. They leave the milk with a mocking smirk and go hunting.
It's play as well as dining for them. A lethal combo. In just three days it's a different world in my small garden. Even slugs get unnecessarily slayed, for sheer fun because they don't eat them, just kill them for practice I think. A shrew has been a garden resident for the last two three years. I took it as a lucky sign. I'm preparing myself to come to terms with its mauled corpse one morning any day soon. I just watch them helplessly. They are all males. That makes it even more troublesome. Girls behave slightly better. I get annoyed at them for slaying the peace in my birded garden, the little winged friends who give me so many tales to write. But when the big fat rascally feral tomcat came to kill them to keep his harem intact and unrivaled in future, I contrived with my brother to teach the lampoon a lesson. He got a stick strike on his bum from the hands of my brother. We feel like protecting them; we feel like caning them for killing birds and lizards. It's a strange feeling. They play. They kill. Nature. But it's heartbreaking to hear the distress calls of my bird friends. I can just watch helplessly. I know this is natural. But would I be a poet if I accept this fact so easily. Well, I only pray that these hunters grow soon and leap away on hunts beyond our garden. Then me and my birdie friends will take a sigh of relief. But will they leave any bird alive till that time comes?
PS: An update. Just now one of them has been seen with a squirrel baby nicely tucked in its mouth.