Christmas Bobcat Curse

 

Photo is Jamie and Victor hiking on Christmas Day 2018

What is it about Christmas and Bobcats?

First thing this morning Gale texts me to say there is a dead bobcat in the middle of the road at Gunn Highway and Sheldon.  I texted Kathryn to ask if she can have someone closer run out to make sure the cat isn’t suffering and by the time Gale texts back that there is no doubt the cat is dead, Kathryn has already heard from Rebecca that she stopped to pull the cat out of the road but had no way to bring him to the sanctuary.  Kathryn sends Megan to retrieve the body and we will compare him to our photos of previously released rehab bobcats before having him cremated.  He will have dignity in death.

 

We are all upset at the thought of losing yet one more precious bobcat and it comes the day after hearing about a bobcat who was hit by a car at an airport in Sanford.  The bobcat reportedly had a broken leg and was holed up in the grille of a car for three days before being removed by an animal trapper.  The news reports say that authorities sent the cat to a rehab center, but no one is saying where.  We know there is no place other than Big Cat Rescue that is properly equipped for bobcat rehab so as soon as the place who has him has exhausted their ability to fundraise off him, they will probably call us to take the cat for the hard rehab work, if they care at all about getting the cat back out to the wild.  So many places just love to get “failed” rehab animals to fill their cages of their pathetic back yard zoos.  The whole thing makes me sad.

 

While I’m wallowing in pity for the cats who have lost their freedom and lives, I start wondering what it is about Christmas and bobcats?  Is there some ancient curse on their clan?  I pull out the sheet used for tracking bobcat calls we get and the earliest entry is 12/25/94 and a cat we named Goetz.  I’d done a lot of bobcat rehab and release since I was 17 but didn’t have digital records prior to when I was 31 years old in 1994.

 

My brother was a deputy with the Sheriff’s department and called me in the middle of the night on Christmas saying a bobcat had been hit by a car at Sheldon Road near Meadowview Circle.  When we arrived on the scene there were half a dozen patrol cars, lights flashing, and all of the officers were in a wide circle around the bobcat with flashlights on her.  We crept up on either side of her with nets, using a tactic that cats often use when they hunt together.  One is the “danger” who comes toward the face, while the other is actually the one to do the capturing.  The one from behind has to be so stealthy that the animal being caught never knows what got them.

 

The bobcat was sitting up, as best she could; pulled up to her highest on her front legs.  She was trying to keep this circle of cops at bay with her low, snarling threats.  If you’ve never heard a mad bobcat, I really can’t explain just how terrifying that sound is.  As I moved into position to take her full attention, I didn’t know the extent of her injuries.  If she was able, she’d launch herself to my throat and take out my trachea, to save herself.  She sprang with what she had and let out a blood curdling scream of obscenities at me.  I would have laughed at all those big guys, with guns drawn, running out into the night, screaming in fear, if not for the mission at hand, which was to get a net down over her without causing her further injury.

 

Her pelvis turned out to have been crushed, so her spring wasn’t much and both nets came down over her in an instant. We called for the pet carrier to be brought over and one of the police officers had the courage to bring it close enough that we were able to get her in it.  I’d like to think that was my brother, but really don’t recall.  I remember early days of rehab with Goetz, where we would take the top off the carrier and feed her strips of meat from long tongs.  The entire time she’d be hurling threats at us and