Thank you all for the nice comments. I got a bit delayed finishing Homer's story. Here is the rest of it.
First let me say some would think I should have called the cats protection, or some such animal shelter to trap him. But Homer is terrified of people for some reason. If they had managed to trap him and he was old and dying, then imagine what a terrifying death it would be for him. If he was younger than I had first thought, then who would take him on. At least here he has plenty of shelter, and me to feed him. So I chose what I thought Homer would want. Not to be trapped and caged.
Well things got a bit difficult with feeding him as the days got warmer. By day his food would become covered in fly eggs. And by night covered in slugs. Magpies, and possibly rats were also getting to it first. So I stopped putting the food out. Every half hour I would look out of my window to see if he was around. It wasn't long before I saw him waiting outside late in the evening. As soon as I opened the door and put the food out he was gone. But peeping behind a curtain I saw he soon came back. At first he would only come late at night. But soon instead of running, he would just back away whilst I put the food down. Then I started to find him on the doorstep very early in the morning before anyone was about. He was putting on weight and I was able to get some photos. He then let me stand in the doorway whilst he ate. Then the big break through letting me sit on the doorstep next to him whilst he ate. If I moved, or looked at him he would shoot off, but would then return. Then I started putting my hand by his plate. Then early one morning I was sitting with him, and there was just such a gentleness about him that I reached out and touched the top of his head with a finger. I expected to get slashed. But he just jumped away, then came back to his food. I gently touched his head again. This time he looked up, then carried on eating. This has now graduated into me being able to stroke his head and now neck with my whole hand. He must have once been domesticated. But what happened to him, and why he is so terrified of people I will never know. I can only touch him if he's eating. As soon as he has finished, off he goes, and I don't see him until the next meal. He now always visits twice a day, sometimes three. I am so glad he chose the farm where I live as his home too.
Julie.
Photos of Homer.
