Stella's molting, which means we find feathers all over the house as she drops them while flying around. Last night, she dropped a flight feather. I picked it up and was pretending to write with it, as though I were in the 18th century.
I did this a little too close to Stella, who angrily grabbed the feather back from me. She aggressively preened it a few times and then let it drop to the floor.
She kind of looks like she wants to stab me with it, though.