Winged cats Thelma, Roger, James, and Harriet find safety in a new home, but local birds panic and attack. An Owl chases James and tears his wing badly. The cats tend to his wounds while the Owl watches from afar, a threat still looming.
Chapters
They curled up together again under a bush and fell asleep. But first Thelma and Roger, then James, and then small Harriet would lift their head, open an eye, listen a moment, on guard. They knew they had come to a much better place than the alley, but they also knew that every place is dangerous, whether you are a fish or a kite. Or even a cat with wings. Chapter 3. It's absolutely unfair! the thrush cried. Unjust! the finch agreed. Intolerable! yelled the blue jay. I don't see why, a mouse said. You've always had wings. Now they do. What's unfair about that? The fish in the creek said nothing. Fish never do. Few people know what fish think about injustice. Or anything else. I was bringing a twig to the nest just this morning. A cat flew down from the top of the holm oak and grinned at me in mid-air! And all other songbirds cried, Shocking! Unheard of! Not allowed! Could try tunnels! said the mouse and trotted off. The birds had to learn to get along with the flying tabbies. Most of the birds, in fact, were more frightened and outraged than really endangered, since they were far better flyers than Roger, Harriet, Thelma, and James. The birds never got their wings tangled up in pine branches and never absentmindedly bumped into tree trunks, and when pursued they could escape by speeding up or taking evasive action. But they were alarmed, and with good cause. What about their fledglings? Many birds had eggs in their nests now. When the babies hatched, how could they be kept safe from a cat who could fly up and perch on the slenderest branch among the thickest leaves? It took a while for Owl to understand this. Owl is not a quick thinker. She is a long thinker. It was late in the spring one evening, when she was gazing fondly at her 2 new owlets that she saw James flitting by chasing bats. And she slowly thought, this will not do. And softly, Owl spread her great grey wings and silently flew after James, her talons opening. The flying tabbies had made their nest in a hole halfway up a big elm, above fox and coyote level and too small for raccoons to get into. Thelma and Harriet were washing each other's necks and talking over the day's adventures when they heard a pitiful crying at the foot of the tree. James! cried Harriet. He was crouching under a bush. All scratched and bleeding, and one of his wings dragged upon the ground. It was the owl, he said, when his sisters had helped him climb painfully up the tree trunk to their home hole. I just escaped. She caught me, but I scratched her and she let go for a moment. And then Roger came scrambling into the nest with his eyes round and black. She's after me! he cried. The Owl! They all washed James's wounds till he fell asleep. Now we know how the little birds feel, said Thelma grimly. What will James do? Harriet whispered. Will he ever fly again? He better not, said a soft, large voice outside their door. The Owl was sitting there.
