Yesterday, in the late afternoon, I was standing in the kitchen looking out over the back garden. Waffles was out enjoying the sun, sitting on a molehill, eye closed and whiskers forward, just enjoying life as a cat.

All of a sudden, there was some movement at the base of the conifer hedge. A nose peeked into the garden, followed by a head and then the rest of the animal. It was a muntjac hind; a little sweetie. For those that don't know the deer to be found on this side of the Pond, muntjac are a small deer, only about 18" high at the shoulder. They are an introduced species to the UK - originally from China and brought here to form part of private collections. Over time, individuals escaped and now thrive in the English countryside. Round these parts there are loads of them, especially in the Thetford Forest area, but I don't often see them quite this close!

The little hind looked about nervously and slowly crept into the garden. At this point, a certain sunbathing feline woke up. This muntjac was only a couple of yards from her. How dare it! How *dare* a deer be in *her* garden! Waffles took instant umbrage at the sight of the intruder and went into hunter mode. Oh dear (should that be "oh deer"?), the delusions of grandeur that little feline has! Well, Waffles crouched down on the ground, with her rear end taking up the wiggle that happens just before she pounces. The deer looked at Waffles - Waffles looked at the deer. Waffles uttered some sort of feline curse about fangs being wrapped around muntjac jugular. That was it - the little muntjac decided discretion was the better part of valour and she took flight out of the garden and up the length of the field at the back. She was, however, hotly pursued by a little black cat determined that no deer was to big for her to bring home through the cat flap. Luckily for the deer, it was faster than Waffles and it managed to escape into the distance. Waffles ran all the way to the edge of the field before giving up, some several hundred yards. Got to give her credit she is a mighty hunter, even if she didn't manage to bring home the bacon, or on this occasion, the venison.

Once Waffles got to the far end of the field, I called her and she came bounding back down the field to home. She came running in the kitchen, meowing and purring a greeting. I swear she was saying, "I would've got it, I would have!" She had made quite an effort for a small, feisty one-eyed black cat with a steel pin in one leg, so I gave her a sliver of her favourite ham.

Copyright © Helen Simmons
May 30, 2001