Yesterday while the sun shone I escaped from my temporary incarceration, slipped out an open window and headed off over the cliff edge into the trees below to hunt for the weasel lookalike. The slave tried to grab me before I disappeared but I was too quick for her. I really don’t know why she is so worried. She must know that Fearless Pompuss is an awesome hunter and not afraid of anything. Has she forgotten that only a few days ago I brought home a bag of fieldmice after she thrust me into the mouse nursery beneath the big hydrangea bush…….
I wandered amongst the trees for nearly an hour but the musletids stayed well hidden. It’s a mystery.
A couple of months ago I was woken in the middle of the night by loud scrabbling on the roof and assumed it was opossums travelling across it from one tree to another. Then I looked up at the skylight above the slave’s bed (yes I’d made myself at home on the feather duvet) and saw a bushy possum tail passing over it followed by a shape with a tapering short haired tail. I dashed to the mudroom catflap but by the time I reached the trees at the side of the house the tail bearers had gone.
I just supposed it was a confused feral cat who, feeling lonely had gone to live with some furry cousins but now I wonder – does our patch of native bush shelter a tree dwelling giant weasel….??? Maybe I should have climbed a few trees yesterday instead of strolling round on the ground calling ‘Hello -oh…”