Frisky Felines

In the midst of our rat, reptile, and camera trapping work, we have recently been tasked with trying to trap and radio collar the cat that regularly visits one of our enclosures.  No big deal, we’ve got 12 leg-hold traps, some experience on how to accomplish the feat, and a whole heap of optimism stemming from the fact that the thing doesn’t seem to care about our presence and comes, like clockwork, every couple of weeks.  The process is relatively simple: set the traps, camouflage them, and check them every 4 hours through the night.  The 4-hour rule is part of the ethics agreement for a number of reasons; mainly to avoid pressure injuries and to minimise the amount of stress on the animal so they don’t attempt to free themselves from the traps...yes, not ideal.

   We were asked to start trapping the week before our trip to Piccaninny.  It’s now the 14^th of September and there isn’t any cat.  There isn’t even a sign of the cat.  There is much speculation surrounding its whereabouts; did it have kittens?  Has it gone AWOL because we come around the place 4 times a night?  Are we trying too hard?  Is the frozen cat pee we brought from Piccaninny (and left at a friend’s in Darwin, by the way, but they were kind enough to ship down to us) just not doing the trick?  What about sardines, cat food (wet and dry), and fish juice? And if anything, the FAP (as mentioned in previous posts) should be attracting it from afar!

Schnookems...

   The one night we came close was actually the very first night we set out the traps.  It was the second to last night of reptile trapping back in July, and the volunteers wanted to see the whole process.  We grudgingly set it all up for them, cracking jokes that this was an exercise in lost sleep rather than cat catching.  But we did our checks at 11pm, 3am, and first light (6am) and found (surprise!) nothing.  Come the next day, we checked our camera traps and found that the cat actually came through at 10pm!  Walked right by the traps!  It was our fault; we didn’t put them in the right place.  Our game plan was lacking because we really didn’t anticipate the thing coming through so soon.  However, we were excited.  Surely it was fine with us being there so often, undeterred by our scent hanging on every branch.  I remember my words: ‘this cat is as good as caught!’  I was jubilant, I was confident, I am now regretting ever having said that.  We arrived back from Piccaninny with a sense of purpose: we were going to catch that little black feline (affectionately named ‘Schnookems’ by the reptile trapping volunteers), and we were going to do it in record time.  Days came and went, our nights interrupted by alarms and groggily driving out to the enclosure.  Weeks came and went, and here we are.  It’s hard to say why the cat hasn’t come back, but it must have something to do with our nightly checks.  Driving there 4 times a night must be jarring for a creature that’s so habituated to our presence.  Then again, if it doesn’t care, it should be hanging around more often.  I don’t think a single cat has ever had more brain power expended on its behaviour, maybe except for my sisters cat, but that’s because he’s certifiably manic depressive, obsessive, and generally a weirdo (no offense intended Gavin, I rather like your weakness for crumpled up paper and cardboard boxes). 

Oh, did I mention the radio collaring part of this whole endeavour?  Allow me to explain.  Upon catching the cat, we are supposed to attach a radio collar around its neck.  Without anaesthesia.  Yeah, go ahead and try doing that to a pet cat, let alone a feral one bent on clawing your face into a new type of holiday decoration.  We’ve never done it, so we’re taking the appropriate precautions: welding gloves, a canvas bag, sunglasses, long sleeved shirts, pants, and a plan to use 3 people to hold the thing down.  Any volunteers?  I mean, that is to say if we ever do indeed catch this thing.  At some point we’ll need to regroup and come up with a new plan.  Proceeding like this is like banging our heads against a wall.  I’d almost rather do that—at least I might get a full night’s sleep.  However even with our confidence shattered, we press on, hoping that at some point little Schnookems will return to its familiar hunting grounds.  Keep your ears open because if we do catch it, you might hear the shouts.  Oh yeah, and the best part about this story…we are expected to catch 2-4 cats at EACH enclosure!!! BEFORE CHRISTMAS!  I have a feeling that that monumental task will be as successful as our other attempts...