A few more kittens showed up after we caught the last group. But their number quickly declined. We were hoping that other people were trapping them, but we no longer hold out that hope. We've found out since that there are definitely coyotes in the area. In the middle of October, there was only one kitten left. And one night, the fifteenth of October, that little white kitten came into the entry way, talking up a storm. She talked and talked and mewed and talked. I warmed up some chicken and went outside to try to get her close enough to me to grab her. I would toss a piece of chicken to her and she'd eat it. I tried making a trail of chicken up to me and she'd eat to a certain point, then back off.
A few of the adult ferals watched and they helped eat the chicken. Finally, she went over to the dry food. I slowly put my hand out to her and she'd run. Then, hunger would get the better of her and she'd be back at the dish. Finally, she was so intent on eating that she didn't see my hand coming. After forty five minutes of waiting, I grabbed her. She twisted her head and bit into my finger. She held on. I held on. I yelled out at Brian to get the bleach water ready for me to soak my profusely bleeding finger. He quickly got the bathroom ready for her and I took her in. She did the terrified climbing feral kitten thing and hid behind the toilet. I soaked my finger and then went in to see how she was doing. She had calmed down considerably.
We named her Autumn White. She was about six weeks old and she got a clean bill of health at the vet's office. We think Little White Guy was her mom. For those of you who keep up with the online diary, you'll know that all of the feral females are now gone, most likely dinner for a coyote. I'm really glad we were able to get little Autumn in before she disappeared, too. She's not a lap cat, but you can get her to purr.
All of the other cats love her and treat her like a little princess. There's no roughhousing with her, just grooming and gentle kitten play. She's a very special kitten. I wish we'd been able to save her sisters and brothers. But I am thankful we were able to get her.