one's affections, but was openly aggressive at times, and loved to steal
the cockatoo's food.

Caesar, on his perch, apparently wrapped in dreamless slumber, would in
reality be watching the stealthy movements of Tim, the cat, who would
come scouting through the grass towards the tin of food. Just out of
reach, Tim would lie down and feign sleep as deep as Caesar's, though
every muscle in his body was tense with readiness for the sudden spring.
So they would remain, perhaps many minutes. Tim's patience never gave
out. Sometimes Caesar's would, and he would open his eyes and flap round
on his perch, shouting much bad bird language at the retreating Tim. But
more often both remained motionless until the cat sprang suddenly at the
food tin. More often than not he was too quick for Caesar, and would drag
the tin beyond reach of the chain before the bird could defend it, in
which case the wrath of the defeated was awful to behold. But sometimes
Caesar managed to anticipate the leap, and Tim did not readily forget
those distressful moments when the cockatoo had him by the fur with beak
and claw. He would escape, showing several patches where his coat had
been torn, and remained in a state of dejection for two or three days,
during which battles were discontinued. It took Caesar almost as long to
recover from the wild state of triumph into which his rare victories
threw him.




CHAPTER III