Eighteen months ago my wife and I adopted a feral rescue cat with the intention of having our first barn kitty. The idea was simple. A local ACO had trapped an anti-social female cat which seemed unadoptable and was likely to be euthanized. Our farm was being regularly raided for grain by mice and rats and rather than use poison which could have detrimental side-effects on both domesticated and wild animals in the area, the presence of a self-sufficient mouser seemed like a reasonable solution. Our expectations at the time included the likelihood that this cat might leave at any time or fall to predation, vehicle strike, or some other misadventure. At the same time we wanted to try to make the animal feel safe in its new environment and we hoped that it would find our relationship mutually beneficial, but it seemed rather unlikely that we would develop anything other than a working relationship with a human-shy feral animal.
After a few weeks of being hissed at upon entering the milking parlor of our barn and responding with slow movements and quiet words, we found that our new cat, now called Persephone, lacked in social graces but didn’t fit the profile of a feral animal after all. We discovered that by remaining relatively still and offering treats, Persephone would leave the perceived safety of the cushioned box we had fashioned her and would even allow herself to be touched if she initiated the interaction. In short order, she would jump onto our laps to enjoy the warmth of our body heat on cold winter days. She would still hiss at our feet when we entered or left the room, but once we sat or otherwise minimized our profile she would act more or less like a normal cat.
We therefore determined that she wasn’t feral but rather socially maladapted, perhaps in response to previous experience with humans. In any case, she now began to leave the barn to explore the farm and in time she abandoned her milking parlor box in favor of the meager accommodations found in our garage. Like the typical Maine garage, ours doesn’t hold vehicles but stuff (primarily hay). We therefore moved her box to her new apartment and provided other accessories for her amusement. As to her job performance, Persephone was quite a capable hunter, but tended to target voles, shrews, and even the occasional squirrel, but few mice and no rats. Most of what she captured was presented to us each morning by the door and if we were awake an active at the time, these triumphs would be loudly announced.
After a time, our feet were no longer frightening to Persephone and she allowed herself to be handled quite readily. The next challenge during this period of our time with her was trying to reach her that her “love bites” were a little too forceful, by immediately ending our interaction upon receiving one. She responded appropriately and fairly quickly to this tactic as she seemed to prefer her petting to last for several minutes. In fact, I can’t recall any instances of her leaving unless startled by an unexpected noise or some sudden movement. To the contrary, I frequently found it necessary to pull her claws out of my clothing and bring her close to the ground in order to succeed in moving on to other business.
Among the discoveries we made about Persephone, we found that when held and petted she would leave rather unladylike droplets of saliva on one’s shirt. We also found her to be a skilled and dedicated climber as she occasionally made rather elaborate attempts to enter our dwelling when not receiving the proper amount of attention. We also found Persephone to be extremely cat-aggressive having left an absurd number of fur tufts pulled from some neighborhood vagabond in the driveway one morning and hissing and batting at our indoor cat population through fencing, screen windows and so forth. One day recently Indie, who has always had a tendency to bolt for an open door, chose to attempt to explore the ‘big bright room’ we never let he or his housemates explore, but which we regularly place food ‘within’. As a result, he received a rather unambiguous hissing at and several smacks across the face before he wisely fled back into the house.
Persephone’s bluster, evident skill and combat readiness led us to make two determinations: first she could not live in the house within the current paradigm (5 cats, 1 dog, and a reasonable level of stability with some chemical intervention to manage Leo’s bullying); and second, she is capable enough that the risks of the outdoors don’t require a change. For the time being, Persephone could remain an outdoor kitty, even if she was no longer a barn kitty or really much of a mouser. We had recently begun working on teaching her to seek preferential prey, but this was barely past the discussion phase.
Unfortunately, our emotional connection with Persephone prevented what now seems like an important consideration; that perhaps she was ready to be adopted by another household. We may have discussed the idea, although I can’t recall having done so, but I do recall having the thought. In any case, the status quo seemed successful and still mutually beneficial even if not in exactly the same manner as we had planned. One week ago, the status quo changed suddenly.
On the
evening of July 3, I left for work a bit earlier than usual at around 9:45 PM.
As had become her custom, Persephone greeted me and received a brief holding
and petting before being placed in the garage and told to “be good”. This
ritual was performed almost every night for close to a year, although I can’t
quite recall exactly when Persephone changed totally from hissy to cuddly.
Likewise, she either walks or runs towards my car (naughty cat!) almost every morning. Typically, she would move behind the vehicle and then trail it, easily seen in the driver’s side mirror giving every appearance of escorting the vehicle to its regular resting spot to await at least a brief pat before beginning all of the various human-wrangling tasks she seemed compelled to perform before getting her wet cat food. The dog ALWAYS eats first, then (usually) goats, then cats, then humans although the second through fourth steps occasionally reverse on the rare lazy day. Even if not present upon my arrival, Persephone usually arrived within a few minutes thereafter but occasionally had found something more interesting (as amazing as that may seem) and on one occasion was delayed for about an hour (possibly by a good nap). Her ‘chores’ consist of escorting the hay cart, overseeing hay distribution, taste-testing water buckets, scanning for birds, measuring the temperature in the shade under the hay cart, ensuring that the cart is properly emptied by standing on the bales or curling up on the leftovers and from time to time testing the strength of shelves and other abutments. Finally, after riding in the emptied cart to ensure safe driving on the part of the human operator, Persephone would be ready for her breakfast. Phew!
On the morning of July 4, I was surprised by Persephone’s absence, but not worried as she is delayed from time to time, but as chores were nearing completion, I asked my wife if she had seen Persephone at all and received a negative reply. I commented that I had seen her upon leaving and that there had been fireworks at that time, but that she didn’t appear perturbed by them. Fireworks use and gunplay is fairly common for our area and she had experienced both before without incident. Her food was placed outside that morning as usual, but I began to worry a bit when it was untouched by 9:00 AM and remained so when I went to bed at around 10:00 AM. Upon waking in the afternoon, my wife indicated that Persephone had still not made herself known and this was unheard of for us. We understand that cats (particularly those with a history of outdoor living) may wander but neither of us felt comforted by that understanding. Although we are far from disinterested observers, we feel the situation is extraordinary; we know our cat.
By the time I left for work that night she had still not returned and I began to panic. Of course, my wife had made inquires during the day and had called for Persephone and I did so again at that time when she was more likely to be active. Since then we have put up fliers, contacted authorities, walked about the roads looking for signs that she may have been struck and searched some of the wooded areas close to home with no luck. We also learned that several other cats have disappeared in the past six months and that a fisher had been seen in the area.
Fishers, I have learned, carry a mixed reputation with regard to domestic cats but to generalize, scientific data suggests these members of the weasel family eat cats fairly rarely, and as omnivores have a great deal of meal choices including nuts and berries. In terms of prey they prefer snowshoe hare, porcupine(!), shrews and voles, all of which can be found easily as my car has come close to the first two several times near home and even the indoor cats get their paws on the later specimens from time to time. Despite this, fishers have a reputation among owners of outdoor cats and it is the belief of the cat-owner who sighted this one (whom I have named Hades), that he (likely as this appears to be a larger specimen) is somehow responsible for the disappearances. We have also heard that fishers may attempt to drive off (or more rarely, kill) cats in order to ensure territorial rights.
Two nights after I last held Persephone, I encountered Hades for the first time at around 11:30 PM. I didn’t know what I was seeing for certain; a dark shape crawling into the reeds and grass by the road, moving somewhat like a skunk but having no color (other than ‘dark’) in my headlights. Just in case, I stopped and called for Persephone but received only a few moments of silence in reply.
Likewise, she either walks or runs towards my car (naughty cat!) almost every morning. Typically, she would move behind the vehicle and then trail it, easily seen in the driver’s side mirror giving every appearance of escorting the vehicle to its regular resting spot to await at least a brief pat before beginning all of the various human-wrangling tasks she seemed compelled to perform before getting her wet cat food. The dog ALWAYS eats first, then (usually) goats, then cats, then humans although the second through fourth steps occasionally reverse on the rare lazy day. Even if not present upon my arrival, Persephone usually arrived within a few minutes thereafter but occasionally had found something more interesting (as amazing as that may seem) and on one occasion was delayed for about an hour (possibly by a good nap). Her ‘chores’ consist of escorting the hay cart, overseeing hay distribution, taste-testing water buckets, scanning for birds, measuring the temperature in the shade under the hay cart, ensuring that the cart is properly emptied by standing on the bales or curling up on the leftovers and from time to time testing the strength of shelves and other abutments. Finally, after riding in the emptied cart to ensure safe driving on the part of the human operator, Persephone would be ready for her breakfast. Phew!
On the morning of July 4, I was surprised by Persephone’s absence, but not worried as she is delayed from time to time, but as chores were nearing completion, I asked my wife if she had seen Persephone at all and received a negative reply. I commented that I had seen her upon leaving and that there had been fireworks at that time, but that she didn’t appear perturbed by them. Fireworks use and gunplay is fairly common for our area and she had experienced both before without incident. Her food was placed outside that morning as usual, but I began to worry a bit when it was untouched by 9:00 AM and remained so when I went to bed at around 10:00 AM. Upon waking in the afternoon, my wife indicated that Persephone had still not made herself known and this was unheard of for us. We understand that cats (particularly those with a history of outdoor living) may wander but neither of us felt comforted by that understanding. Although we are far from disinterested observers, we feel the situation is extraordinary; we know our cat.
By the time I left for work that night she had still not returned and I began to panic. Of course, my wife had made inquires during the day and had called for Persephone and I did so again at that time when she was more likely to be active. Since then we have put up fliers, contacted authorities, walked about the roads looking for signs that she may have been struck and searched some of the wooded areas close to home with no luck. We also learned that several other cats have disappeared in the past six months and that a fisher had been seen in the area.
Fishers, I have learned, carry a mixed reputation with regard to domestic cats but to generalize, scientific data suggests these members of the weasel family eat cats fairly rarely, and as omnivores have a great deal of meal choices including nuts and berries. In terms of prey they prefer snowshoe hare, porcupine(!), shrews and voles, all of which can be found easily as my car has come close to the first two several times near home and even the indoor cats get their paws on the later specimens from time to time. Despite this, fishers have a reputation among owners of outdoor cats and it is the belief of the cat-owner who sighted this one (whom I have named Hades), that he (likely as this appears to be a larger specimen) is somehow responsible for the disappearances. We have also heard that fishers may attempt to drive off (or more rarely, kill) cats in order to ensure territorial rights.
Two nights after I last held Persephone, I encountered Hades for the first time at around 11:30 PM. I didn’t know what I was seeing for certain; a dark shape crawling into the reeds and grass by the road, moving somewhat like a skunk but having no color (other than ‘dark’) in my headlights. Just in case, I stopped and called for Persephone but received only a few moments of silence in reply.
