I used to have a fat, sweet 'ol tom named “Jolly Mon” who would periodically bring me rats, mice, birds, lizards, garden snakes and once an entire dead raccoon (I assume he found it post mortem; he was a big 'ol boy, but not big enough to fight a coon and win).
I read in Desmond Morris’ Catwatching that this is pretty typical feline behavior. Mr. Morris’ theorizes that since we force cats into a social setting that they wouldn’t have in the wild, they assume the role of mother/brother/provider for us dumb, ugly kittens who are too inept to hunt and bring us food.
His alternate theory was that housecats are forced into a life of perpetual kittenhood where we take on the role of mother and they show us the results of their hunt to earn praise.
Either way, it’s kind of flattering and even sweet in a brutal, feline way.