Dear Miss Blue,
I see from my porch window that The Hunter Cat and my favorite Crow (Frederick, by name) are at it again. Never have I seen such fierce competition. The air is filled with Frederick's brassy sound (he did, at one time, caw with the boys choir in Motown). They are enemies by nature, of course, but I will say the Hunter Cat gobbled up a newborn crowlet that had fallen from the nest in the Fir Tree last summer and Frederick has been on the proverbial War Path ever since. History is so unforgiving, Miss Blue.
The snow makes a fine cover for the Hunter Cat, HC being mostly white with the exception of three of his paws and a spot on his face right there by his whiskers. Both creatures are handsome for their species, I will say that. But, Miss Blue, how will it all end? I have found an old lanyard out in the boathouse, and that, along with a small dinner bell left over from playtime with the Bobbsey Twins last summer, will do just fine to alert Frederick to a serious encounter. The Hunter Cat is in view as I write, so I shall close this letter to you quickly, Miss Blue. I have the collar and bell in my pocket and I am sure Mr Cat will wear it stylishly. He is just so spoiled!

Love,
Pearl, solving