George,

Archie was a yellow cat who lived next-door in Gildersleeve Wood. A carolina wren laid a nest of eggs in the windowbox near my side door. True, she should have known better, but the breed is well known for loving to be near human habitations.

Archie watched those eggs and, when the first one cracked, he pounced. He swallowed the contents of the first egg whole, then made off like a shot when I screamed. I'd gladly have murdered Archie on the spot. I could not keep vigil forever, alas, and the following day the nest was empty, the mother wren long gone.

I did not grieve when the next year Archie was bloodily done in by a passing car. If this is speciesism, you may make the most of it.

Carolyn Silver (Electronic mail, November 20, 2007)