Portugal Notes

I’m used to the idea that pet cats (especially those that were feral and are now semi-tamed) will bring you little presents now and again. Live mice for example, baby birds.

However, the fields around here seem to be full of shrews as that’s what keeps being brought in. Well, either that’s what the local rodent population consists of or our cat thinks I have a preference for shrews. As she’s met my wife I have no idea what could have given her that latter idea.

6 responses

  1. Dr Dan H. Avatar
    Dr Dan H.

    Shame on you, you taxonomic incompetent!
    Shrews are insectivores, not rodents; the two groups are as different as chalk and cheese.
    Get your facts straight before posting, please.

  2. Jeez, don’t these people have editors??
    Tim adds: Blogs? No, that’s part of the charm, see?

  3. gene berman Avatar
    gene berman

    Dr. Dan:
    You are almost equally taxonomically incompetent. An insectivore is not a taxonomical classification but a dietary one.
    And, even though the term “insectivore” could (and might be in some case, I dunno) be made the basis for a taxonomic classification, it certainly has not been in the case of shrews, who have their own pet tongue-twisters with the Linnaean crowd. Furthermore, though some species of shrew are certainly insectivores, not all are–many are what might be termed omnivorous. Whether any are strictly herbivores, again, I can’t tell you but wouldn’t be greatly surprised to learn.
    Tim adds: Ahem. Order, Insectivora:
    http://fwie.fw.vt.edu/TN/TN10059.htm

  4. Cats always seem to catch shrews but not eat them, which may be why you are more aware of them being brought in.
    I expect they taste nasty but wriggle delightfully when you bat them from paw to paw.
    Jonathan

  5. gene berman Avatar
    gene berman

    Tim:
    The name is archaic–abandoned for precisely the reasons enumerated in my post.

  6. sortapundit Avatar
    sortapundit

    My old tabby Muffet used to leave gifts for my older brother Scott when we used to live together. Since Scott slept in a room downstairs adjacent to the cat flap he’d often wake in the middle of the night to the sight of a mangled, still madly flapping bird making a final desperate attempt at flight from the landing strip of his chest. I can imagine few less pleasant sights to wake up to.

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