The kittens explored the garden. They enjoyed the shade of the trees and the warmth of the sun. They learnt to climb the olive tree (Fred first, of course) and discovered the high wall at the top, from where they could look out over the fields where they were born. They were growing physically, and getting stronger too.

Fickle’s favourite plaything was an old tin, perfect for hiding. She had clearly decided that it was a single-occupancy tin, and her brother and sisters would definitely not be allowed to share. She was happy jumping out at them, surprising them, tussling and playing with them, but her favourite pastime was to play from inside her special, favourite tin.

Fleckle and Drip discovered how to scramble up through the citrus trees onto the wall on the other side of the garden. They explored the various plant ledges and worked out how to climb up through the fruit trees.

The kittens were naturally curious and adventurous, and it was at this time that The Cat decided it was time to introduce her brood to the fields from where they had scaled the garden wall on that first day.

Whereas usually The Cat would discourage the kittens from following her when she left the garden, on this occasion there was no such warning, look or hiss. They followed her to the top of the garden wall, and there they sat until the sun went down. Then, following their mother, the kittens retraced their steps down from the wall into the field, where they waited together until The Cat decided the time was right for their adventure to begin. With night falling rapidly, they headed off across the fields.

The following morning, The Cat was in the garden, eager for breakfast as usual; the overnight adventure had given her an appetite. Initially there was no sign of the kittens but, one by one, Fickle, Fleckle and Drip joined her. They had come back to the garden so tired after their big night out that they had fallen asleep in different parts of the garden and hadn’t heard the breakfast sounds.

But where was Fred?

It appeared that Fred had been left behind at last night’s destination. Maybe he had fallen asleep, or, more likely, he had been having his own mini-adventure at the time when The Cat decided to return to the garden. The Cat’s style of mothering was such that she would have simply returned with whichever kittens were available, leaving the others to use their feral instincts to guide them home. If there had been no sign of Fred by that evening, The Cat would have returned to the fields for him.

But by mid-morning, Fred had worked out his return route by himself, and appeared in the vine.

The field they had visited was easily in sight of the garden, but to a small kitten at ground level, it was not such a simple task to find one’s way back home. There was a proud swagger about Fred, a certain air of self-confidence – the look of a kitten who knows he’s triumphed.

Fred headed straight for the food and water bowls, ready to eat, wash and sleep, reunited with his family.