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Elphinstone Kist   Stories for Bairns

Brockit an the Wild Cat     by: Wheeler, Les

Brockit wis oot for a wee waak ae day an he wandered richt past the place o the standin steens, richt up as far as the big wid at the tap end o the ferm.

He wis takkin his time, looking at the flooers an puddock-steels, an listenin tae the birds cleckin awa tae een anither, fan he heard anither soond.

‘Hallo!’ said Brockit tae himsel, ‘that soonds affa like kitlins that’s makkin that din.’ Sae Brockit set aff tae see fit it wis.

He followed the soonds, gettin further an further intae the wids, till he cam tae a big pile o rocks. The miaowin wis comin fae among the rocks an Brockit jist hid tae climb up an see fit it wis that wis upsettin the kitlins.

It wis a gey struggle for the rocks wirna sma, but, wi a bittie o scrammlin, scrattin an loupin, Brockit made his wye up tae the tap. He seen discovered fit wis makkin aa the din.

Hidden in ahin a big rock an in throwe a wee, wee hole wis fit lookit like a nest an in this nest wis three wee strippit kitlins. They must only hae been aboot twa or three wiks aul, but they were a bittie bigger than Brockit had been fan he wis their age. They hid stripes that wir like Brockits, but a different colour - this eens were black an yalla an there wis wee tufts o hair on the tap o their lugs. But there wis nae doot they were cats!

Fan the wee kitlins saw Brockit, they stoppit their din for a meenit an cam ower tae see fa he wis. They cam closer an gaed him a gweed look ower, syne ilka een sterted miaowin an spittin at him. They didna seem verra pleased tae see Brockit at aa!

‘They div mak an affa din,’ thocht Brockit. ‘Maybe they’re hungry, but it’s milk they’d be needin an it’s ower far tae gyang back tae the ferm for some. I winner far their mither is?’
Brockit wis seen tae find oot far their mither wis, for it wisna lang afore he heard a scrapin o claws on the rocks an a wild screich that gaed Brockit an affa fricht!

He turned roon tae see a muckle, great strippit cat wi muckle pointed tufts o hair on its lugs glowerin at him an skirlin for aa it wis worth like a hen wi its tail caught in a ringer. Its hair wis aa blawn oot till it lookit like a fitba wi a heid, made up o strippit fur!

Ae look at its sherp fangs an claws an anither at the look in its een wis enough tae let Brockit ken that he wisna a welcome visitor. Brockit took aff doon the rocks like he wis fired fae a gun an it wis as weel for him that the wild cat didna follow him, but bade tae see tae her kitlins, like ony mither wid.

Ye see, wild cats like tae be left aleen an dinna like ither folk botherin them. Sae, if ye see a wild cat, jist leave it tae get on wi it, an it winna bother you!

Fit aboot Brockit? Weel, he wis seen safe an soond back on the ferm. He kent that he’d met in wi some close relations, but he thocht it wid be better if they didna jist get ower close!

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