One Sunday in January a pair of grey ears was spotted in the field. The ears looked as though they might be owned by a feline bent upon entering The Cat’s garden domain but, in true feral form, as soon as a human presence was detected, the ears disappeared. Luckily photographic evidence had been gained but just two grey ears and a bit of white fur in a field full of Spring flowers was not enough for any formal identification.

The ears, however, were attached to a hungry cat which started to make its way regularly to the front path where there was food and water available to one and all. The speed of the ears’ departure once a human was nearby was something to behold – this was a true feral. Having spotted the ears in the field on their way to the path, a human could witness the end of the afternoon, the sunset, the onset of dusk and the start of nightfall before the ears had picked up enough courage to traverse the fifty feet from the field to the path. And then if a noisy vehicle or walker came past at a crucial moment, the ears’ progress might be set back by as much as two hours.

A camera was purchased to film feline activity and was placed outside the front door. Without this, Mystery Cat might never have been identified. With a wide white fur scarf and a stripy tail we wondered whether this could be a relation of another local feline, Mr Tiffin. As the weeks went by, Mystery Cat became more confident, happily skipping up the path. ‘Mmm kibble! I like kibble. Yummy. Ooh wet food, that’s a treat. Oh but I do like the kibble. I’ll have some more of that. OK that’s enough. Hmm…or is it? Oh alright then if you insist I’ll have some more. But which one?? Maybe I’d better go now. But what if it’s all gone when I come back? Maybe just one more mouthful then. But which one?’ Visits were a lengthy process.

Overindulgence in kibble and wet food can’t be blamed for rendering Mystery Cat unable to skip happily up the path – rather a rapidly expanding belly full of kittens-in-waiting. She waddled in matronly fashion, eating more and taking longer. Recently we suspect she may have taken on enough kibble ballast to last her through to kitten weaning. And once weaned, who knows whether a little row of Mystery Kittens may grace the path, following in their mother’s paw-prints and guided by her ecstasy of indecision of which bowl to visit first.