Over the weekend it warmed up from 30-below to 25-below. Even if I don't go out, myself, I can always tell, because I see the cats start running around on the roof of the tractor shed.
This guy, Bob (due to his stumpy tail; he survived a wrestling match with a motor fan one winter), is our resident tom. He catches birds and delivers them to his kittens. He looks after his family. No murderous marauding tomcatting for Bob!
He was busy chasing the "new" momcat around the yard on the weekend; she was dropped off at a farm five miles from here. She is a lovely, friendly calico, but somebody didn't want her. Perhaps she had begun to claw their fine furniture or pee on their bed. So her owners did what any irresponsible asshole would — dumped her in the country, in the freezing cold.
Fortunately for her she was dumped at the yard of someone who, although they didn't want her at their place, cared enough to keep her in their garage, warm and fed, till they could find her a home.
It took her and Bob quite a long time to warm up to each other, but now they are courting and perhaps we will have a litter of kittens in the barn in a month or two.