F-I-I-I-S-H!!! I love them! They are s-o-o-o tasty! Fishing’s fun too!
In case it had escaped your attention we cats are expert hunters. I speak from experience. And I’m completely self taught, I’ll have you know.
Back in the days of hanging around with Bert and Tom Tom in Marmaris Yacht Marina I was able to catch any fly that found its way into or onto or near the boat. But that was kid’s stuff. As Winter inexorably turned to Spring I graduated to huge juicy insects and, in one memorable escapade, a bird. All of these trophies were proudly presented to my parents who, if you were in any doubt, showed their immense pride in me by taking the prize (by now dead) and throwing it into the sea – I have come to learn that that’s their way of showing praise.
“Bat Cove” or “Boynuz Buku” as it is known locally is particularly rich in pickings for any hunter worth her salt. On our first visit we anchored off the head of the bay, just to get the lay of the land (or sea). From then on, however, we tied onto the jetty. This allowed me to fully explore my bent for hunting.
I started slowly by catching grasshoppers around the restaurant area. I could see that my parents and their friends were dead impressed with this, but kept laughing as I jumped in the air and ran up trees (which is what I do to scare the insects). By night-time things really start to liven up in Bat Cove and the jetty comes alive with furry birds (I have subsequently learnt, when my Mum screamed joyously upon her discovery of one in the saloon, that they are called bats). Basically, having honed my skills learning to capture insects, catching a bat is not all that difficult. They fly erratically, just like moths, and can’t even see a cat sitting right in front of them. I have grabbed quite a few of these creatures over the past weeks, right out of the air. They are good to play with, but I don’t eat them. The same goes for voles. I took one back to my sleeping Mum in Tersane, but I didn’t eat it. Along with the bats, it ended up in the sea as fish food.
FISH, now they are quite a different matter. Oh, just that word brings me out in goose pimples. F, I, S, H, fish. Tasty, fleshy, scaly, spiky, slimy, fresh, wriggling fish. Yummy, yum yum. To paraphrase Lionel Bart:
“Fish, glorious fish, don’t care what they look like
Three banquets a day, my favourite diet.”
They live in the sea, under Esper, and I catch them.
I’m the world’s best fishercat. All you have to do is lower a metal basket over the side and wait. After a few hours you bring it back up and inside are slithering, spluttering, gasping fish. Slide them into a bucket and leave the rest to me. There isn’t a fish in the sea that can escape me once I’ve set my mind to catching it. Occasionally I let the really slippery ones go, especially when they jump all over the deck and slide into the sea, but they’re the ones I don’t really want to eat anyway… I enjoy stalking them, tickling them in the bucket then scooping them out with my claws.
I ate five in a row once.
If you’re viewing this blog in Turkey you probably won’t be able to see this clip since Turk Telecom is imposing Nazi-like restrictions on access toYouTube. Who do they think they are?
NB. On the subject of food I should just like to say that recently my Dad and I have discovered bacon. He likes his cooked to a cinder; I like mine raw.
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