We discovered new kittens up in the hay loft a little more than a month ago.
For a while, they lived in a tunnel in the hay bales, eyes barely open, piled one on top of the other, mewing quietly.
One day, the biggest of them was wandering around the feeding area. It was uncertain how he arrived there, though it was possible he’d fallen out the back of the tunnel and down, down, down from the hay loft.
He was returned to the tunnel, but shortly after that, all four kittens were downstairs behind the oats barrel.
Every so often they’d pad across the concrete, freezing when I stepped up to the feeding pad to pour horse feed into buckets. They’d then scurry back to the protection of the barrel. Mother cat stared at me, crying for MeowMix.
One day, a buttery colored kitten perched on the edge of the concrete.
She saw me, and I hoped she would stay, but after a second, she retreated.
Her report to the rest of the squad must have been good, as all four now regularly peruse the buckets, hay rake, and other various and sundry barn items.
They also have now become fond of MeowMix.