Last week, I herded cats.

I know, I know. Herding cats is well-nigh impossible.

Our cats are usually barn cats.

They are difficult to see, let alone control. We place the barn cats’ food bowl in the old “wagon shed” part of the lower barn, now occupied by the condominium that houses our chickens and chicken feed.

Having the cats eat there does entice them to that section of the barn. Their efficiency as predators curbs the mice, moles, voles and feed-snatching sparrows.

Our barn cat population fluctuates between six and 10. The vicissitudes of living along a state highway, and among fields frequented by hawks, coyotes, even an occasional eagle, diminish the population.

The last diminution also left us short of cats that feed in the bowls set just outside our house, which sits about 100 yards away from the barn. Having cats around both buildings also controls chipmunks, red squirrels, mice, etc. We needed to replenish that population.

So we got a half-dozen kittens.

“Train them to feed around the house, not just in the barn,” said my wife.

I snorted, using words that pungently portray the impossibility of training cats to do anything that they do not wish to do.

“Oh, you are so good at training animals!” chirped my wife. Translation: She wants cats hanging around the house, but does not want to have anything to do with getting them to stay put there.

Sigh. Happy wife, happy life. I agreed to try.

We set up a kitten condominium in the “cat tree.” The “cat tree” is a hemlock that grows 20 feet behind our house. Years ago, I had trimmed away its lower limbs. But I left sturdy stubs of limbs, each about three or four feet long, at a height of about five feet above the ground.

Atop these, I placed a scrap piece of exterior grade plywood.

Voila! We now have a platform that keeps the cat food well above the reach of the dogs, which like to eat cat food. Even the occasional rambling chicken does not think to look or fly that far up into a tree to eat. The cats themselves keep birds away, enriching their diets with an occasional too-cocky blue jay.

The kittens came from The Neighbor Who Must Not Be Named. Naming a neighbor who just got rid of cats is a regrettable open invitation to having more cats dropped off by gutless, cowardly, smelly, runny-nosed townies who refuse to accept responsibility for their own pets’ kittens. I have written before about the gruesome fates that usually befall such unequipped starvelings, including being maimed in territorial fights, leaving me to have to shoot the badly wounded ones. I curse you, cat-flingers.

We will attempt gradual peaceful integration.

Now, a small dog crate rests atop the platform in the “cat tree.” It is supported by assorted scrap pieces of lumber shoved strategically here and there. The crate’s top and back are tape-draped with sections of plastic coated feedbags to block rain and wind. Bricks keep everything from blowing away. A water bowl is on the platform. Three long boards, propped up by rocks, serve as sliding ramps to ground level.

The kittens stayed up there for two solid days.

On day three, they descended into the waiting domain of our dogs. Ralph, a big, goofy Lab mix, likes cats. He helped us to raise a litter of kittens when their mother was killed by a car. It fell to my wife and me to feed the cats with eyedroppers. Ralph took over the “other end,” licking the cats, including their butts, to stimulate their digestive systems and keep them clean. Yuck.

Buddy, a collie/beagle mix, had killed cats when we first got him from the shelter a half-dozen years ago, so we worried about these kittens. But Buddy is a goofy transgender mutt. He has from time to time thought he was a chicken and forced his way into the chicken house, merely to lounge about in the company of cluckers.

This time, Buddy took on the butt-licking and shepherding. Hooray! No butts for me.

But how to “herd” the cats, or train them to come and hunt around the house? Hmm. I do use a whistle to call the dogs to the house.

Casting about, I came upon a duck call. Will it serve as a cat call? Let’s try.

“Hwank! Hwank!” I tootle each morning as I bring food and milk to the kittens. Hey, the “Hwanker” is a distinctive call that travels some distance. And we own no ducks.

Will this herding work? Will the kittens, as full-grown cats, stay near the house, once they have discovered the multi-story charms of the barn?

I think not, but I hope so.

My wife remains confident. No wonder; she spent the weekend in New Jersey.

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Denny Bonavita is a former editor at newspapers in DuBois and Warren. He lives near Brookville. Email: denny2319@windstream.net