We left the window open when we went out last night. There is no longer a screen on that window, but it faces the back of the house, and we live in an area that people rarely drive through, let alone stop. The weather was decent and this stuffy house could use some air.
Anyway, when we got home I discovered its Baby Rabbit Season. I knew this because there were two of them, dead and mangled, on my livingroom floor. Nasty bloody mess all over the place. Gross disembodied rabbit parts here and there. YUCK! Apparently my cat, a.k.a. The Great Black Hunter had discovered a recently motherless nest of rabbits somewhere near my yard.
Last year about this time, we rescued two baby rabbits from the jaws of The GBH and kept them safely in a box, only to discover after an internet search that they were old enough to live on their own. We released them in the neighbors yard, but an hour later The GBH had one of them again. After three or four rescues, the boor babies were beyond saving. The next several weeks it was not uncommon to hear a rabbit screaming in the back yard. We chased the cat off the few we could.
I feel bad, but only because my cat has no intention of actually eating them. I understand predators kill other, sometimes cute and furry, animals. But their instincts tell them to do this because, instinctively, they eat them. My cat's only objective is to prove her prowess by leaving dead things for me to find - you should see the way she proudly parades around the dead thing, while I freak the hell out. Currently The GBH is under house arrest until the baby rabbits have a chance to get clear the heck away from my yard.