Monday, August 04, 2014

COMMUNITY CATS: A TRIBE OF ITS OWN

Three generations of ferals:  "Patches," "Smudge," "Skeezix"

The best working theory about the kind of animals that we keep for pets but that also live interstitially, partly pets and partly feral and “partly-partly”, in and out, is that they are self-determining tribes interwoven with our tribe.  This was first expressed on the rez by Blackfeet talking about dogs, but it also works for cats and to some extent for birds.  Humans in settlements create ecologies and various animals enter various ways.

“Patches” and her three kittens came to my yard last fall.
  
"Ming" grew to twice this size, quite splendid.

I called the biggest Ming because of his almond eyes.  He's a white tom with gold patches and a curl on the end of his tail.

The "Crip" before her broken shoulder.

Then there was the prettiest calico, darker than her mother with kohl-rimmed eyes.  She had some kind of accident that broke her shoulder.  Nevertheless, she healed and now only has a funny gait.  I call her “Crip.”  
The "Smudge"

Then the littlest one, no more than a smudge in the grass who walked so close to the mother that if the mother paused, he bumped into her.  I thought he was “he,” but he turned out to be female.  The name “Smudge” stuck.  She's almost a throwback to an African wildcat.  Just needs stilts.

African Wildcat

I got this family through the winter -- don’t ask me why.  I knew better.  I had the idea that by spring they would be tame and I could find them homes.  NOT.  They remain feral.  I’ve never touched them and if I make a surprise move, they scatter like rabbits.  There was only one point of vulnerability -- for them and for me.  The mother, the Crip and the Smudge all came into heat and were bred.  I found the kittens hours after their birth and drowned them except a white and gold long-faced one, now half-grown, I call the Skeezix.  

The Skeezix

The closest any of them come to being tame is that they sneak in the cat flap and afflict my two fat old indoor cats.  (I call them the Marmots.)   But the most troublesome cat of all is still Caspar, who belongs to Dale across the street but believes this is his house and resents all others, no matter the species.  She sometimes tries to kneecap me when I chase her away.  

The Indoor "Marmots"

Smudge turned out to be entirely different from her sibs.  She’s long, skinny, short-haired, striped instead of patched, with headlights for eyes.  She willingly took on the Skeezix, nursing him and wrestling with him all day every day.  Patches was not interested.  After living up and down the street for years, she's an abusive mother.  I’m hoping this nursing (still continuing long after Patches would have tolerated it) will keep her from coming into heat.  I’m hoping the Skeezix is male. I hate drowning kittens.

This summer forgot dog days in Valier.  It’s been cool, almost coastal, weather, infused with smoke.  But the community cats are back in heat.  “Managing Community Cats: A Guide for Municipal Leaders” is a 36 page handout prepared by the Humane Society of the United States. http://www.animalsheltering.org/resources/all.../managing-community-cats.htm.  Like many HSUS things, it’s not quite what it’s represented to be.  A rehash, but a good intro.  The only new idea is that now “Trap-Neuter-Replace” is discredited.  Wayne Pacelle wants cats to be kept indoors.  He wants them to be children.  He wants them to eat broccoli.  Even if they did, they would still poop in unpleasant places and eat birds, which are the main objections from the People Tribe.  

Wayne Pacelle

Terrierman  (http://terriermandotcom.blogspot.com) regularly rips the covers off Wayne Pacelle, the new Cleveland Amory.  In the Seventies when I was doing animal control work, Amory was the big cheese at “Fund for Animals,” and the professionals always joked that the main animal was Cleveland.  He did so love the good life, jetting around, charming old ladies out of money.  The Fund appears to have been swallowed by HSUS.

Cleveland Amory

Rev. John A. Hoyt

In those days HSUS was helmed by John Hoyt, a handsome Presbyterian minister who gave a canned speech that was deeply moving the first time you heard it.  The real work was done by Phyllis Wright, who was a down-and-dirty just-do-it woman who monitored shelters and researched how-to.  I mostly worked with Char Drennon, a lady suit who organized the tent-meetings for evangelizing to raise money, cleverly disguised as workshops.  There is nothing that will raise money better than animals -- the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act, the RICO act, has been brought to bear on HSUS more than once.  ALL the national humane societies are cutthroat competitors, each with more ruthlessly heartbreaking stories than the last, recycling tragedies.  The least corrupt is American Humane Association which protects both children and animals.  They monitor the movies, too.

Cut Bank, Montana

I will NEVER contribute to ANY humane society that isn’t local.  Animal control agencies ARE local, usually under the auspices of the sheriff or police because they are sworn officers who go into neighborhoods to confront problems in situ.  They need civic and moral support as much as money.  Lately a few have been killed on duty.

The standards for all animals, like everything else, must be different between urban and rural.  I was surprised to hear that local grain farmers want cats, which have a high attrition rate because of predators and hazards.  No longer do they keep dairy cows so that the cats line up charmingly to be squirted in the mouth with milk.  The perfect cat could catch pigeons and rodents while not being caught by a coyote.  The perfect cat complaint would be resolved without money.  No one has a budget for feral cats.  Out in the country they are simply shot, the same as a fox or skunk.  In town some geezers would happily do that.  Some poison cats, I'm told.

Grizz soon to be numbered and moved.

It’s always a mistake to name wild animals, but an irresistible mistake.  Even when they stopped giving nicknames to known grizzlies, people starting calling them by their tag numbers and soon the number was a name.  So now Ming, who carried his little head like a rocking horse, neck all bowed up and proud, is laid low from a cat fight in which a bigger tom crushed his back leg.  It’s been three-times normal size but he still manages to escape me and I hate to make him run.  The Crip hasn’t been around for days.  Smudge and the Skeezix are the only ones who show up diurnally for food.  Also, now and then, Patches, who has a new batch of kittens someplace.

For a week or so the cats were sharing with blackbirds who flew back and forth to feed their babies so industriously that they soon emptied an entire bowl of kibble.  Then the babies got big enough to come themselves and for a while there was a great squawking scramble in the yard.  I sort of hoped the ferals would eat a few of those birds.  I could spare a lot of the exotic collared pigeons who live in my blue spruce with the whole purpose of making noise.  On cranky days, esp. after reading another warning about not leaving pet food outside because of attracting bears and after hearing another post office tale about the latest bear visit to Valier, I almost hope the bear will show up and eat the cats.  Instead I’ve made a deal with a neighbor that if I trap a cat that doesn’t have a known owner (it’s likely to be HIS!)  I’ll take it over to him and he’ll run it to a ranch he knows.  

Here’s quite a different story about a feral cat.  This one was captured and given to a careful owner who was ever-so-kind, but the cat suffered so much from the lack of freedom, that he had to be put back where he came from.  Now and then there are people who are like that, even youngsters, who would rather die than live in captivity.  They mean it.

Here’s another in the genre of cat philosophizing:
This is the valuable takeaway concept:   “Biologists call cats “exploitive captives,” an evocative phrase that might be used to describe a lot of relationships, not all of them interspecies.”  Lolita comes to mind.  Even she eventually settled down to have babies.

Posted today 8-4-14 at Terrierman:

HSUS's Positive Rating Replaced With Warning Letter 
Charity Navigator has always been a bullshit site using nonsense methodology, as I have noted in the past. That said, direct mail fraud groups have typically pointed to their positive ratings there as "proof" they are legitimate. One of those groups is (or was) the Humane Society of the U.S. which once had a 4-star rating with Charity Navigator, but then got downgraded to 3-stars. Now, following HSUS's payment of $15.75 million settle a racketeering lawsuit Charity Navigator has pulled all its stars and replaced it with a "Donor Advisory" warning. About time!  
Terrierman's two new pups

No comments: