A Nameless Voice

Baldwin was roaming in the woods near his neighborhood when he came upon a clump of wispy, violet grass.  He put his nose near its roots, for he was certain that he detected a new scent.  

Suddenly he sn—nee-zed. “Bless you.” said a quiet small voice from somewhere behind the tall grass.  Baldwin froze.  He had thought he was alone, but apparently he was not; something or someone was watching him.  His heart began to beat very fast as he crouched down to see what would happen next.  He waited--he listened so very carefully, but he heard nothing. 

He wondered what he should do.  “I’m being silly!” he said aloud.  “I’ll just introduce myself.  Perhaps someone new has moved into the neighborhood, and he or she is a little shy with making introductions.”  He cleared his throat, held his head high and marched forward with confidence right through the tall grass and said, “Hello, my name is Baldwin.”  He was surprised at what met his eyes. 

In the clearing, he saw a hollowed-out log with a small door leaning against the log’s opening.  It was apparent that long ago there had been a fire, since the entrance to this small house was burned.  “This is an extraordinary discovery!” exclaimed Baldwin.  

He took a closer look, and put his nose into the opening.  His keen sense of smell told him that no one had lived there for a quite some time, but Baldwin did detect the scent of old Theodore, the community rat, and thought he might have used the abandoned house for temporary shelter. 

Baldwin heard a twig snap, and then an owl came flying toward the clearing.  “I do believe this is not the time for introductions after all," Baldwin stated in a trembling voice.  He quickly made his way back through the tall grass when he heard a small voice call out to him, “Goodbye, Baldwin.”  Baldwin’s eyes grew wide with fright, and he ran swiftly home.

A Proud Predator

"The Parking lot birds have returned again,” Baldwin complained aloud to no one in particular.  That was the name he gave to the sparrows that worked the parking lot for food at the small convenience store just down the road from his house.  

They were oblivious to danger in their search for something to eat as they kept out of the path of hurried human feet and rolling vehicle tires, yet he looked down his cat nose at them for they ate the human’s discarded snacks.

Baldwin once heard his scholarly cousin Gypsy call the sparrows “sacred birds.”  She told him of an ancient Greek text that speaks of a higher presence who watches over sparrows.  He laughed at the thought of those common birds having a position of such importance.

Soon the sparrows found out about the birdfeeder of Baldwin’s neighbor, and they visited it daily.  He thought how pleasant it would be to capture a holy bird and perhaps give it a little nibble.  Sheepishly, Baldwin took a quick look around him, just in case someone had read his unkind, instinctive thoughts.

Usually Baldwin accepted the sparrows with a mask of tolerance, for he thought he was being very charitable in allowing such lowly birds to eat in his presence, but not today!  He was much too self-centered to give credence to his cousin's words, so he stealthily made his way toward a lone sparrow that was diligently picking through the fallen sunflower seeds.

Baldwin licked his chops and sprang toward the seemingly unsuspecting bird.  Suddenly, he found himself sprawled out on the ground with a throbbing nose!  He cried out in alarm as he shook his head to stop his pain, “What did I hit?”  He picked himself up and humbly made his way to the shelter of the tall grass.

He looked around to see who or what had been between him and that small tasty sparrow, but to his amazement, the parking lot bird was still in the same place acting like nothing had happened.  “Could it be,” thought Baldwin, “that Gypsy was right after all?”  

An Investigation

The chickadees were talking excitedly about their early morning encounter with a mysterious presence, and Baldwin wished to hear more of their conversation, but they promptly flew away when he drew near.  “Hmph,” responded Baldwin as he walked away with his head held high.  “Who needs those little tweeting birds?  Tomorrow is Sunday, and I will wake up before sunrise to investigate this matter for myself!”

 

Still hearing the snores resounding from his human mother, Baldwin made his way quietly down the stairs into the kitchen at 5:30.  He took a quick sniff in his empty food bowl in the vain hope that he had left a morsel from his previous evening’s meal, and then he peered out the window to see the streetlights still glowing brightly against the diminishing darkness.  “Good, it is still early,” he meowed quietly.  Baldwin jumped out the cat door into the cool, damp morning.  He felt very bold as he made his way toward the main road to begin his search. 

Baldwin was surprised to hear all the birds chattering; he had no idea there was so much activity in the early morning hours.  He heard snitches of conversation that came from the Robin family’s nest high in the tree: “Harriet, where did I place that shiny button?” asked the forgetful Papa Robin. “Check the side pocket of your red vest,” retorted the ever-mindful Harriet.  

Baldwin kept walking.  In the dimmed light, he could just begin to make out the outline of Amos the squirrel digging in the neighbor’s yard.  Normally, he would give chase, but not now; he was on a mission. 

He began to run, for he felt certain that it was almost time—time for the entity’s appearance.  He arrived at the crossroads and turned left.  Uncertain of what he should do next, Baldwin sat down facing east, and looked around him for that unknown presence which the chickadees had spoken of with such mysteriousness. 

Looking up into the heavens, he was distracted by a brilliant display of pink and orange hues, and then he could look no longer.  The light was too bright, so with closed eyes, he raised his head high and purred as he enjoyed the warmth of the sun’s presence.  “This is it!” thought Baldwin.  “I have solved the mystery, and like the birds, I too feel welcomed.”

Out of Town

It had been five long days since Baldwin’s neighbor left town in her green jalopy, and there had been no one to refill the bird feeder or clean the birdbath.  Baldwin meowed his complaint loudly even though he was alone. “How could she be so irresponsible as to not ensure that the neighborhood birds were taken care of in her absence?”  

Of course, Baldwin had to acknowledge that the day his neighbor zoomed out of her driveway, the bird feeder was filled to the brim with large, dark sunflower seeds, and the birdbath overflowed with clean, sparkling water.  “Ah yes,” he recalled as he licked his paw to keep a stubborn ant from biting him.  “All the birds feasted happily on sunflower seeds for one entire day, and even those three pesky, thieving blackbirds brought their migrating friends too.” 

Baldwin shook his head as he recalled the extremely loud bird chatter.  The blackbirds laughed at him when he decided to wear his bright red earplugs.  They even attempted to snatch them from his ears while he was dozing.  “But now,” he concluded with a sigh, “the party is over!” 

The birds don’t check the feeder for seeds anymore” Baldwin meowed in deep disappointment as he laid his head down in despair.  He felt that his neighborhood had changed overnight. There were no birds to chase away, nor any juicy gossip to listen to.  The air was empty; there was no noise.  Baldwin was lonely and blue.  Suddenly he sat up in alarm and exclaimed, “Where are my earplugs?!”

  

The Harmonious Traveler

Poor Baldwin. He disliked traveling in his plastic, purple carrier, and he wanted desperately to be out. He felt claustrophobic in his small quarters, so he meowed loudly to protest his confinement, and he clawed the carrier’s door but to no avail. Baldwin’s heart began to beat rapidly; he felt dizzy, then suddenly everything went dark. After that he just seemed to be sleeping.

“Baldwin, Baldwin, wake up!” meowed Gypsy impatiently. Baldwin slowly opened his heavy eyelids when he heard his cousin’s voice. “Oh, I must have dozed off for a minute or two. What are you doing here in Georgia, Gypsy?” Baldwin asked his question in the midst of a big yawn. “You silly cat—you are visiting me in Tennessee!” she replied indignantly. “You fainted again didn’t you?”

Baldwin tried to cleverly deny his self-induced fainting that was a consequence of his fear of traveling. “Shush, Baldwin!” demanded Gypsy. “You mustn’t tell tales. Your human mother brought you into the house from your carrier.”

Gypsy jumped up on the couch and settled herself comfortably against the cushions. “But I am so embarrassed,” Baldwin whispered as he glanced quickly at Gypsy’s big, golden eyes. “What can I do to overcome my fear and be brave like you?” he asked. Gypsy looked around to make sure that no one else would hear her mystic words, “You must sing, Baldwin! Just sing!”

Looking for Luck

Drip, drop, drip.  Baldwin watched large drops of water slowly emerge from the end of the water hose and carefully reached out his right paw to catch one.  “Eww, much too wet,” he thought as he shook off what little bit of water touched his grayish paw.  He then looked around and spotted a shamrock plant and thought that perhaps he could find a four-leaf clover.  

He had heard from his cousin Gypsy that four-leaf clovers were such a lucky find, and he wanted to prove to his dear cousin that he indeed was a propitious cat. He reached across the leaky garden hose to closely examine this special, green plant, which he thought might change his future, and counted the leaves aloud, “One leaf, two leaves, three leaves.”  

Baldwin gave a disappointing sigh. “Shucks, I should have remembered.  Shamrocks have three leaves.  I guess I’ll have to look elsewhere for a lucky clover,” he meowed.  

The plant's pink flowers made his nose tickle as he gently nudged them in search of a beetle, but all he found was a piece of pine bark.  He would have to talk with Gypsy again to find out what he must do improve his fortune.

Baldwin the Explorer

Baldwin was exploring.  
Hoping not to draw much attention, he stealthily walked toward a deck where he heard the sounds of laughter.
  
He was quite sure that the presence of people meant the possibility of finding delicious morsels.  “Ahh, perfect timing--they are leaving,” he meowed so very quietly as he heard the sounds of chairs scraping the deck floor and a closing of a door.
But after Baldwin examined the area, he was extremely disappointed, for all he could find were the remains of one potato chip.