I grew up in the country and we had outdoor cats. I don't know if they hunted; though I suspect they did. They just never brought their kills home if they did. I grew up in rural Sullivan County, New York. The area was populated with chipmunks, birds of every description and name and lots of wildlife. I have reframed from commenting on the capabilities of your cat in hunting. I now live in Raleigh, North Carolina. I have two house cats, adopted so they would not go to the pound and death or to the wilds, or become feral cats living in the storm drains. We have a vegetable garden and a flower garden in our back yard. We have rabbits, squirrels, turtles, and birds of every description. Every nesting bird brings their young to our yard upon leaving the nest. Last year a stray black cat with golden eyes approached us. He was hot, thristy and hungry. In the end I have adopted him. He obviously was a house cat at one point but had been shown the door with the aid of a broom probably because he was not too good with other cats in the household. He looked like the perfect garden cat. For he would walk down the garden paths ahead of me just like one could only want a cat to do. He could also discern a small rabbit under a bean plant or a baby Carolina wren in the grass so quickly and capture them in a micro-second that he is now only allowed out doors in my arms or in a crate of heavy gauge rods, that allow for about 95% visibility from all sides. I could not take the killing of all the other animals. He gets out every day for several hours in the crate on a table in the shade. The animals come to within feet of him because they know he is crated. He isn't l00% happy but he is very pleased I make the effort to get him out every day. So much so, he jumps up to the dryer, steps into the open door way of the crate I am holding and then I shut the crate and open the back door. I cannot be sure while the nose and front feet are not quite right, the color tells me the kill in this picture is more likely a chipmunk than a mouse. Please consider not allowing "Big Red" to hunt any more. He will adjust .......

She's about twelve years old and that prevents her from birding; probably arthritis. She used to be an indoor cat only, but was much too fat. She's slimmed down quite a bit since being allowed outside.

Since she eats everything she brings home except the gallbladder and intestines and only occasionally leaves a couple of feet (she even eats the head, bones and all), I think we'll let her live out her twilight years doing what cats are supposed to do. I grew up with the notion that it was ok to hunt and fish as long as you ate your catch. With that in mind, I find no fault in her hunting behavior.

If she were eating songbirds, perhaps I'd feel different, but our neighborhood has an overabundance of rabbits, probably because all of the natural predators have moved on, far away from our suburban existence, therefore there is no shortage of prey. Perhaps I'll be convinced that vegetarianism is best one day, but for now, I suspect her food is healthier for her than my diet is for me.

Lastly, you are right about this catch being a chipmunk. We've only seen one or two of those. I don't think she finds them tasty enough.

If it's any consolation, our other cat is declawed and her only prey is the occasional moth or butterfly or other bug, but only when she can catch them with her teeth.

Thanks for the explanation. I have a 19 year old hyperthryoid, blind indoor cat who appeared to be on death's door last spring. I started letting her walk about in the yard each day to fulfill a yearning she always had. She's still alive. I appreciate and understand the concept; I shall lament the 'munks however.

What? No blood?

Is that cat slobber?

I've heard that sometimes cats will bring their latest "catch" to the feet (or doorstep) of their owners, sort of as an offering or a show of affection. And this always tickles me, I think it's so cute. If you look past the immediate carnage (which is just nature at work, really), it's really quite endearing.

Too bad cats make me sneeze. I'm starting to like them.