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October 1997
Last week, one of life’s little ironies found me. You may recall that a cat in the neighborhood had killed one of the adult phoebes nesting in my garage, as well as the young phoebes in the nest. I continued to see this same cat, a calico, in my yard. While I didn’t chase it, I won’t tell you what I was thinking. It seemed to be a stray and I wondered about its survival through the coming winter. However, considering the wildlife it must be killing, I tried to harden my heart.
Three years ago, I made the choice to keep my own four cats indoors. I had done some reading on free-ranging cats and the problems they pose to wildlife. Domestic cats were introduced into this country by European colonists. Because cats are fed and protected by people, as they should be, their population is not influenced by the same factors which control native wildlife populations, such as disease, extreme weather, starvation and predation. Also, cat densities are not limited, or are poorly limited, by territoriality. The population densities of outdoor domestic cats can reach over 9 cats per acre. This is a huge number when one considers the population densities of wild predators. A bobcat, which is native to Maine, has a home range of about 9 square miles. And there are 640 acres in a square mile!
Unlike most wild predators, domestic cats continue to hunt even when fed regularly and adequately. They prey on small mammals and birds. They can reduce the availability of prey for native predators, such as hawks. In the U.S., rural cats kill over a billion small mammals and hundreds of millions of birds – each year! There isn’t an estimate of the numbers killed by urban and suburban cats. Cats may also pass new diseases to wild animals. They have spread feline leukemia virus to mountain lions.
I realized that my cats were contributing to this problem, but my decision was made when one killed a hummingbird. I saw so clearly the contradiction of attracting wildlife while my four voracious hunters lay in wait. My veterinary celebrated the decision to keep them indoors. He was right: they are healthier and more social now. Of course, stray cats and cats allowed by their owners to run free continue to frequent my yard, but the pressure is less on the wildlife.
So, getting back to my story, it was late last Friday afternoon when I saw the calico cat curled up under the cedars near the garage. I went into the house, thinking about what to do if the cat was sick or hurt. A little later, a woman came walking down the lane, calling softly. I went outside and asked it she was looking for a cat.
“Oh, yes!” she said, “My brother has lost one of their cats, which they never let outdoors. His wife is away, and it must have slipped out the door. He is beside himself that the cat is lost.”
I asked what colour it was, hoping she’d say “Calico,” and that I’d have solved my dilemma. Instead, she said, “White, with two different coloured eyes.”
I hadn’t seen a white cat, but I mentioned the calico stray I’d seen nearby, and we walked over to the place where I’d seen her. Nestled in the tall grass against the trunk of a big cedar, the calico cat was curled up with five kittens. My heart sunk – and softened. I remembered the pouring rain the past few days and felt so sorry for these little beings.
The woman exclaimed, “Oh, it’s terrible how some people don’t care for their pets!” We decided to try to catch the cat. I ran for leather gloves, cat food and a cat carrier. We quickly outlined our strategy. We put food down, and the cat ate as though she hadn’t eaten in days. The kittens’ eyes were still closed. They couldn’t have been even a week old. We gently put the kittens in the carrier, and placed the mother cat in with them. Before the door could be latched, the cat burst out and ran across the lane to the underbrush, where it stayed, meowing hoarsely.
Well, I can put my own cats in a carrier, with some difficulty, but with strays I have never been successful. I suggested leaving the carrier open with the kittens and food inside. In one voice, we said, “She’ll just move them somewhere else!”
“And it will just continue the cycle,” the woman added. We looked at each other, listening to the croaking complaints coming from the tall grasses near us.
This woman was determined. She told me she would stay there as long as it took to get the mother cat, and she’d care for them and find them good homes.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it. Two people are more frightening than one.” I went back into the house, and every few minutes looked out to check on the progress. The woman was there for an hour, and in the growing dusk, I saw her with the cat carrier, going into the trees across the street. I called to her, and she said she’d been successful. I told her she was a wonderful person and I would write about her for the newspaper. I could hear her laughing as she disappeared behind the trees. She didn’t believe me.
A few days later she returned the cat carrier. She already has homes for the mother cat and two of the kittens, and will find homes for the other three by the time they are weaned.
For me, this was the end of the story that began in May when the phoebes built their nest in the garage. I had helped to save the very creature that had killed the phoebe family. In some way, saving the cat and her kittens made up for not being able to protect the phoebes. It was a strange turn of fate that has me thinking about life, nature and love.
By Nancy Coverstone (ncstone@umext.maine.edu), University of Maine Extension Educator in Androscoggin and Sagadahoc Counties
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