The dusty blue pick-up truck rattled down the lane. The truck wheezed and lurched, making such a racket, that I almost wished I was wearing earplugs. But the noise, so offensive to my ears, was music to the colony of cats that lived on this farm. They came out quickly, some were slipping out of the shadows of the barn, and others were peering out behind rusty pieces of farm machinery. Although it was a hot windless day, I could see the long grasses in the pasture rustling, as the cats came on the run to greet me. By now, they knew my feeding schedule and were accustomed to the noises my truck extruded. I pulled into the space by the main barn, eased off the clutch, stepped on the brake and the truck shuddered gratefully to a halt.

Directly in front of me I saw a moving carpet of color. There were over twenty-two cats in this colony that I maintained, and I watched, fascinated as always, for when the tortoise-shells, the calicos, the tuxedos and the rest of the barn cats, all came together for their food call, their colors weaved in and out like an intricate kaleidoscope of colors. The cats were jockeying for the best position they could find to get first dibs on the food.

In the back of the pick-up were several thirty pound bags of dry cat food, large gallon bags of organic catnip, and pieces of freshly caught trout wrapped up in newspaper. Zeus, a large black, sleek neutered male, the patriarch of the clan was the first to leap up on the hood of the truck. He padded softly over to the windshield and bumped it once with his head, as if to say, “So are you getting out or what?” Grinning, at his typical attempt to control situations, I opened the door to greet my Catnip Colony.

Funk, one of my favorites, came up and head bumped my leg. She is a small-boned, orange and gray, long hair. I had tried to catch Funk for over two years. She had been the wiliest of all the ferals to trap. Before I had successfully trapped her (I finally in desperation used catnip for bait) she had delivered a total of sixteen kittens. Some of her offspring were with her on this farm, and they had grown up with her on this 45-acre feral haven. Now she was spayed, and could enjoy a long life with this colony, without adding to the population. I reached down to pet her, then turned to the task of wrestling the bags of cat food out of the pick-up truck. Trying to carry the bags into the barn, without stepping on cats was always a challenge. No matter how hard I tried to avoid it, it seemed like I would always step on a tail or two inadvertently. This time I was fortunate, I did not hear any indignant meow of pain as I performed my duty.

As I eased down the last bag, I heard a familiar voice overhead. Seth Johnson, the owner of the farm was pitching hay from the loft down to his cattle. “ They got me about ten mice this time Mary Anne!” He yelled enthusiastically. “Done cleaned out my grain bins but good!” He gave me the thumbs-up sign, and then turned back to his task in front of him. I smiled, with the satisfaction of knowing these cats were certainly earning their upkeep. All of them were excellent mousers. But Zeus was the king mouser, supplying the most kills, even surpassing the females, that were supposed to be the most intrepid hunters of the clan.

I poured the first bag of food into the feeder, added a bag of catnip then mixed it well to blend the contents. Opening up the slot on the side, the mixture poured down into the platform. This familiar rattle brought more cats into the barn, and I moved quickly on to the next feeders so they all could feast and there would be no possessive food fights breaking out.

I had started adding organic catnip as a food source for wild cats about four years ago. I used to mix the worming medicine and the pastes into the food, when the colony would get wormy, but the medication was expensive and I wasn’t quite sure the cats that needed it were really getting it. Because rodents are notorious for carrying tapeworms, and rodents were a large part of a barn cat’s life, I felt like I was constantly fighting an uphill battle.

Then I met Dr. Lee, a veterinarian who specialized in feral care. He told me about the benefits of adding organic catnip to the food, to provide enough fiber to keep the gut moving and push the parasites out. Dr. Lee also warned me against using this method with domesticated cats, because the only thing that did was create finicky eaters; cats who wouldn’t eat unless catnip was in their food. He also strongly cautioned me to use organic catnip because the regular type oftentimes had pesticides mixed in, and since the cats would be ingesting the catnip, it would be wise to be sure they were getting a safe blend. Since I started feeding the way he instructed, all my colony cats have been in optimum health, and I sure didn’t miss those high vet bills either!

By now my thoughts had automatically carried me through filling the last of the four feeders. My job here was almost done. I set out the pieces of fish on the floor of the barn for the cats to enjoy and backed away, standing by the door. The sun beat down pleasantly on my arms and back, and in the quiet of the afternoon, I could hear the sounds of kibble cascading down to the feeding platforms and deep-throated contented purrs filling the air. Now, that was music to my ears.