I have the privilege of living with two young indoor cats.
One of them found me when I was walking in a nearby semi-rural neighborhood. He was about five weeks old, sitting on a fence, scared and hungry, mewing for help.
It was around dusk, the time of day when the crows and ravens and owls and other predators start looking for tasty little snacks like him.
I brought him home, gave him a bath and got the fleas off him, then took him to the vet where they gave him medication for his ear mites and worms.
The other was rescued from a similar situation by someone who brought her to Pets In Need, our local no-kill shelter, where I adopted her.
They are very happy here. They have good friends (each other and me) to play with and sleep with, tasty food that they don't have to fight to the death, and no risk of being swept up by a hungry bird.
One time as I was walking in the door, a raven started making a loud ruckus outside. Both kitties had a panicked look. They remember what their life was like as wild animals. When they saw me they felt safe and happy again.