Just before Christmas, when the weather was very cold and inches of snow was on the ground, Joe shot out into the garden for his pre-dinner pee, but this was the first time he did not rush straight back to eat his dinner. I looked into the garden and saw him definitely tracking something in the snow, as has been said, looking like a cat.
When the others finished eating and went out to toilet, they saw straight away what Joe was tracking. They immediately formed a circle around it, then suddenly Winston Alexander shot like a bullet into the centre and pounced. He brought his plunder onto the sofa to kill and eat it. I could see from the parts outside of his mouth that it was a bird.
Once I stopped screaming with shock I tried to get the carcass away from him. No chance, so I had to leave him to finish with it. All that was left was bone and a few feathers. Poor little thing, I cried for it.
The point of this gruesome tail is that once I thought things over I realised that Cavaliers are descended from the larger spaniels, who were hunters and retrievers. A dog pup in the first litter I ever bred was taken by someone with a gun on a Norfolk shoot. He told me everyone laughed when he turned up with his little pooch, but they stopped when a year later he won the trophy for the most clean retrieves.
A few years ago a Spannish lady was smoothing my dogs. She told me in broken English that Cavaliers are used in Spain to catch birds. At the time I thought she meant retrieve, now I think not.
Meanwhile, it is Winston's fervent hope that one day he will catch one of the many Magpies that infest the tree in the garden. He can but hope, but if he gets lucky I can now accept that he will be expressing his true nature and that there is nothing I can or should do to stop him.