Thanks to all who have contributed to this thread, which, as Morticia has pointed out, is dedicated to Loki who joined the Mudcat community at Llanstock, and therefore has a special place in the hearts of those of us who were there. Perhaps one day she will get a song or poem in her honour, but she can't have The Pride of Llanfair! Charley, I loved your tale of Tilahun and the pigeon.
Anyway having mentioned Frank O'Connor previously I thought of a poem he translated which has some thread relevance.

The Scholar and the Cat

Each of us pursues his trade,
I and Pangur my comrade,
His whole fancy on the hunt,
And mine for learning ardent.

More than fame I love to be
Among my books and study,
Pangur does not grudge me it,
Content with his own merit.

When-a heavenly time!-we are
In our small room together
Each of us has his own sport
And asks no greater comfort.

While he sets his round sharp eye
On the wall of my study
I turn mine, though lost its edge,
On the great wall of knowledge.

Now a mouse drops in his net
After some mighty onset
While into my bag I cram
Some difficult darksome problem.

When a mouse comes to the kill
Pangur exults, a marvel!
I have when some secret's won
My hour of exultation.

Though we work for days and years
Neither the other hinders;
Each is competent and hence
Enjoys his skill in silence.

Master of the death of mice,
He keeps in daily practice,
I too, making dark things clear,
Am of my trade a master.

This poem, written in Irish, was found in the margins of a religious manuscript from an Austrian monastery. It had been written by one of those anonymous scholar-monks from Ireland who kept the flame of learning alive in Europe during the Dark Ages. I can imagine the monk in his cell with his dim eyesight turning away for a moment from his task to write this truly delightful poem comparing his quest for knowledge with his cat's hunting for a mouse.