Robin's Outdoors

We’ve always known there are bobcats around. Before we moved in a large male sat in the back right corner of the overgrown field. Not long after moving in I saw three young cats in the road. It was surreal, amazing and startling at the same time. Three adorable, seemingly friendly kits that weren’t afraid. Of course, they’re not friendly and I know better than to approach or try to touch them. Bobcat hunters have come to the door to ask permission to hunt. Later, they’d come back to tell me they were leaving so that I could let the livestock out. I kept the animals in to avoid the risk of their dogs meeting up with my animals. I always asked how the hunt went – did they see tracks, did they see enough to think I might have a problem brewing. One set of hunters commented on my dogs. “You can tell where their territory ends. The bobcats have a path 100′ from the dogs’ path.” Having bobcats on the farm isn’t a big deal as long as the population stays small and the natural food supply is adequate.

Five winters ago the snow came in early November. By early February our 5′ fence posts were out of sight. We didn’t see them for six weeks. On May 3 that year we still had 3′ of snow in the woods. This gives you an idea of what a rough winter wildlife had.

As I’ve said many times, we have working farm dogs. They’re here to protect our poultry and livestock, keep them or put them where they belong, and pest control. They are intuitive beyond words. I don’t know how they know when something’s wrong but they do. Taylor had febrile seizures when she was a toddler. Thanks to a family reunion in Boston we were near an excellent hospital the first time she spiked a temp and had a seizure. It nearly killed her. I will never forget the look of a gray, unresponsive baby. The night the bobcat problem started Taylor had a 103* fever. I gave her Advil and put her on the couch to sleep. I sat up in the chair watching to be sure she was breathing. She was 9, hadn’t had a seizure in years, but still…

Maggie started to pace and whine. It’s her way of telling me something’s wrong. I let Maggie and Scooter out to deal with the problem. They chased something to the road then cut through the woods (they aren’t allowed in the road) to continue the chase. They went much further than normal, well past the line they’re not allowed to cross. I brought them back in when they came back to the porch. I poured another cup of coffee to keep myself awake and went back to watch Taylor. Normally this is all the dogs had to do to be rid of the predator but not this time. It wasn’t long until the threat returned, Maggie and Scooter barked and the chase began again. This went on for hours. I checked on Taylor, got my rifle and sat on the back porch. This had to end. But what? What did I have to put an end to? I knew it wasn’t coyotes. They never come right back when they’ve been chased off. It was February so it wasn’t a bear, which wouldn’t have behaved this way anyway. I knew it wasn’t coons. They can’t outrun the dogs unless I give them a head start, they wouldn’t run so far before treeing, and they wouldn’t come back so quickly. Not an owl, fisher or anything else I know of in the Maine woods. It had to be a bobcat. I put the dogs in and sat on the porch waiting. Nothing. Not a sound. The moon wasn’t bright enough to light the forest. I got cold, gave up and came in. 4 am. Taylor was still sleeping on the couch. The dogs were exhausted and so was I. I napped in the chair until Steve got up an hour later. Taylor woke long enough to take more Advil and climb into her bed.

The dogs were content sleeping in front of the fire. When the sun came up I went out to do chores. Back then chores involved carrying five gallon buckets of water each for a cow, two horses and a pony, two buckets for 16 goats of which many were due any day, and two buckets for chickens, ducks and turkeys. 50ish rabbit bottles also had to be filled and switched. Frozen buckets had to be removed and piled to come back to the house and thaw. Hay needed to be taken to the livestock and pellets to the poultry. Eggs needed to be collected. It took an hour of constant motion. While one bucket filled in the bathtub I carried another bucket out to the barn, grabbed a frozen bucket to put in the pile and returned to the house. Between the dogs being out (they were unconcerned) and me buzzing around whatever our problem was, it wasn’t around. Surely after a night of being chased off six or seven times it was tired and sleeping. I didn’t think it would come back because of the night’s events but left the birds and animals in for the day just in case. Two stubborn roosters lived outside most of the time. If I could trap them in the rabbitry they’d stay in for the night but as soon as the door opened they were out. That morning was no exception, they got out.

When chores were finished I brought the dogs in, poured another cup of coffee and before I could get my boots off, answered the phone. I wanted a nap, not a conversation, especially not a 30 minute long conversation. I no more set the phone down when Maggie went ballistic. It was back…

Related Posts

• The Bobcat, Part II (4)
• December or May? (3)
• Chickens 2, Women 6, Laughter lots (3)

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