We lived on 2 acres with a pond. Pierre had the run of the apple orchard, quite the dainty killer back then. Now he's a houseboat kitty and prowls the roof and decks and rooms afloat. This morning a gull flew below the long window where Pierre relaxed in his favorite post following an exhaustive breakfast and instantly the old hunter went into his crouch. Old instincts never die. The gull perched on our piling, surveying the channel. I watched and wrote. Better for all that way.