I'm not sure what would happen if I snatched one kitten and put it into a cage. Farah might well abandon her trust of me immediately, and give the others a warning growl, leaving two at large in the undergrowth where they could be reached only with great difficulty. Cat roundups are not the sort of thing I'm good at, now that my joints protest at putting me in proximity to the ground.
And in any case, I haven't yet been able to get in contact with the cat rescue group. They apparently operate on a very limited budget with an entirely volunteer staff who are only intermittently available. I do hope I'm not going to end up with another generation of feral cats permanently expecting me to feed them. Worse, this trio is so trusting that I'm sure they will soon be attempting to accompany me into the house, which could only lead to outrage from Portia. It is a feline conundrum— one of the worst sorts of conundrums.
Anyway. The first of June looms, and is expected to bring thunderstorms. I heartily disapprove, but there it is. I can only hope that we don't get one of those fire-starting storms that turns summer into a season of smoke and stench.