Birds, cats, science, emotion, and compassion

If you follow any news media online, chances are you have read about a study that came out this week, estimating the numbers of birds and mammals that are killed by domestic cats (pets and feral) each year. And, even from respectable, restrained news outlets such as NPR, this story was accompanied by sensationalist headlines, such as "That cute kitty is a killer!" Well, duh. Anyone who is familiar with cats, or has watched an episode of "Tom and Jerry", knows that cats have a desire to kill small animals. That's why humans found cats useful, long before the advent of the Internet and cat videos.

A disclaimer: I am an avid bird watcher, and I have cats. Three indoor cats, to be exact, and three cats that hang around my house outdoors, the remnants of a once larger "cat colony" that showed up uninvited here the summer after we moved in, nine years ago, in the body of a promiscuous female I called "Evil Calico". The bird loving me and the cat loving me had intense internal struggles about how to handle the outdoor cat population; bringing excess cats to a shelter was not an option around here, and although we have a .22 rifle, I never felt right about the killing solution. As it turned out, the number of cats eventually dropped to two females, one male, and a kitten has not survived to maturity in two years. This "cat herd" did provide my Best Cat Ever, though:

Anyway, back to cats killing birds. The news releases about the study provoked the usual response: bird watchers shared it on social media, and my local birding listserv lit up with posts from birders getting in their two cents' worth about "irresponsible cat owners", "this is astonishing", etc. I, being the scientifically trained skeptic I am, wondered if there was more to the story than the sound bites and headlines. Something about a study that could provoke such rancor did not seem objective and scientific to me.

I read the published paper, which can be found at no cost here. Since I seem to have left that part of my brain that deals with methodology and statistics behind as soon as I defended my Master's thesis, I was glad that another source, Vox Felina, did a thoughtful job of critiquing the methodology and conclusions.

Now, I think we can find some points that cat people and bird people can agree upon. And, I think the media did a disservice to both groups by portraying each as single minded fanatics. One, cats, if left to roam, will kill what they can. Sometimes they won't even eat it. (Humans have this same disgraceful habit) Two, there are specific areas, such as islands, where predation by cats, whether pet or feral, has contributed to the decline, and even extinction, of some species. For these areas, a recovery plan, if feasible, should definitely address the harm done by cats.

HOWEVER...
...a study that gives numbers without context is meaningless. Do we have population estimates of the bird population in the US? As a fish biologist, I know how difficult it is to get an accurate estimate of the population of fish in a small lake.
...a study that gives numbers without any estimates of what species are killed, and in what proportion to the total, is meaningless.
...The issue of mortality is hard to convey to a public who does not have a basic understanding of animal population dynamics. A certain number of any species will succumb to mortality, without affecting the overall population. Certain species that are adapted to the urban environment may occur in higher numbers than what would be expected in nature, and may also be preyed upon by urban cats.

And then we have conflicting issues of compassion. The drive of compassion in humans is undeniable; it is what keeps us civilized, it is what gives us hope. One side has compassion for the prey, the poor vulnerable victims of a predator brought upon all corners of the earth by humans. One side has compassion for the cats; it is not their fault they are here, and that they have an urge to kill (a Sylvester and Tweety cartoon comes to mind, in which Sylvester attends a twelve step program for his "addiction"). Cold, hard science tends to disregard compassion. In my career I have seen, on one hand, ridicule for people who bring "nongame" species in (i.e. songbirds) for rehabilitation; on the other, I have seen many people who choose wildlife management as a career who think the only good cat is a dead cat.

Can we find common ground? I think the media hype surrounding the "study" that came out this week only serves to divide people. As is the case with most stories that qualify as "news" these days.

UPDATE: Apparently I am not alone in thinking this way. NPR blogger Barbara J. King questioned the statistical validity of the study,  as well as its usefulness:

Demonizing cats with shaky statistics, however, won't help us build the pillar of understanding required to strike a satisfying balance between the needs of cats and their supporters with the needs of wildlife facing a feline threat.

There is a (mostly) thoughtful discussion in the comments section of King's blog post.

photo comparison, and Brew Cat

Just sayin'. I snapped this with my iPhone with its micro lens, and ended up with a much better exposure than what I took later with my Kodak Z740.

While I'm at it, here's Best Cat Ever (aka Frisky), looking on with interest as my St. Paul Porter is being transferred to the carboy for an excruciatingly long waiting period of secondary fermentation. This is my first brew in a few years, and I must say it is about time!

we 'r Siamese, if you please

This may just be the cutest kitteh ever. Really.

I have always had a thing for Siamese cats. Even when I was not yet four years old, I guess I fell in love with a friend's Siamese and announced to my parents that I wanted a Siamese cat for my fourth birthday. Amazingly they obliged with Mittens, my first ever seal point Siamese. I was hooked.

We have a strange cat gene pool around here. There are a few outdoor cats that somehow showed up, and every year we get a few kittens. We have had a few blue eyed Siamese mixes over the years, including Puffball, a grey Siamese who died suddenly of a blood clot, and Boofy (a.k.a. Blue Flame), a flame point Siamese with the bluest eyes ever. He insists on sleeping with me every night.

But this year there was one litter, from a nondescript black and gray tabby, that included this very Siamese looking kitten. We brought it inside to protect it when it reached the exploring age. Our dog Togo would have had it for a plaything otherwise. We kept it in the rabbit cage for a while, to protect it from Sally and the adult indoor cats.

Originally, we were going to give this kitten to a friend of Starflower's. But as we cared for it, we somehow came to the decision we could not part with it. So Frisky, the Friskinator, whatever you want to call it, is our newest house kitty. Like we needed another one. But like I said, I have a thing for Siamese.

cuteness on the banjo case

pffffftt!

Humans, ur doin it rong.

the Bloof

Blue Flame (aka Bloof, Boofy...poor confused thing is never called by the same name twice) has been enjoying the luxury of being our house kitty for a while now. Long time readers may recall when Bloof was just a kitten. His eyes are still that blue.

This is Bloof's favorite chair; close enough to the heat source, soft, and allowing a view of the great outdoors. He is camped out there today as we endure a blizzard and 8-10" of snow thus far.

Bloof's favorite activity is making sure I do not sleep in too late on weekends.

lazy Saturday afternoon

It's a blustery, snow showery day here in Minnesota. It is also the opening day of deer season; both factors mean it's a good day to stay indoors in front of the wood stove. I have hunted deer here before, but I think if I hunt again it will be with a bow and arrow.

The wind and cold have brought in good numbers of chickadees, goldfinches, and nuthatches (both white and red breasted) to my new temporary feeder setup. The above is the best picture I could manage today; it certainly isn't the nice view that I had with the feeder at the cabin, at least not yet, but I'm glad to see birds. And I am glad to sit in front of a warm wood stove looking out at that view! I was going to finally bring the garbage can with half a fifty pound bag of black sunflower seed to the new house. But when I got to the far side of the cabin I saw that the can was knocked over, and the seed was gone. Deer? Bear? There was a tiny bit of nyjer thistle seed left in that feeder, so I brought it over and hung it in the tree. The Hermit is in town buying more bird seed.

I am still seeing robins in November! These must be the hard core, far north robins. I noticed some of them eating winterberries at the edge of the woods outside my back door.

We finally brought Blue Flame over to be the new house kitty last week. He has settled in nicely and seems to be enjoying his new surroundings. However, he seems to get possessed at times, especially when he walks out on the beams:
(this picture is dying for a clever caption, but I cannot think of one! Ideas?)

I decided if I want to be a musician, I better start acting like one, so my long to-do list is temporarily suspended as I enjoy picking a tune or two in front of the wood stove. Which reminds me...I gotta get back there!

How could I have forgotten the cranes?

I saw them! A huge flock, maybe twenty or so, last Thursday. I thought they were all long gone. But I think they might be, now.

Whiter Biter the ever loving cat is hanging on me now, doing everything possible to make sure this post does not work. What does he have against cranes? Blue Flame, my other cabin cat, has decided to go on another hermitage under the cabin. Oh well, he will come out when he's hungry enough.

two cat night

I have two cats on my lap right now, as I search for existential meaning in the blog world.

Is there anything more sweet?

the prodigal cat, and other weirdness

Blue Flame is still alive and well. The kids lured him from underneath the cabin a couple of days ago. He had likely not ventured from that spot since he went missing a week and a half ago. He is in the cabin now, about five pounds lighter and I had to cut a massive cat dreadlock from his back. But he is still as sweet and stupid as ever.

There are frost advisories for tonight, but they are all to the south of here. Go figure. I covered up three tomato beds and one pepper/eggplant bed in the vain hopes that they will still produce a viable harvest. I need to give it up already.

I made the mistake of walking by the crabapple trees yesterday, their branches loaded with rosy red fruit, and I started thinking...maybe it's time I did a batch of jelly again. Or that liqueur. So I may be a kitchen warrior this weekend.

And my kitchen may finally get the change of venue in the next couple of weeks. The electrical inspector gave the okey-dokey today, so the first priority is insulating, then completing the outlets, then moving the fridge and workbench countertop and connecting the range and hood, and I'll be cooking in the new house! Right now it's a real pain, the cook shed is many steps away from the house, especially if it's raining. And I hate going off by myself to cook. Then again, going off by myself is nice sometimes. I get to listen to whatever music I want.

I had a huge spike in hits on my Site Meter today, due to a post that almost slipped away unnoticed about ATV's. Apparently it got noticed by someone who posted a link on an ATV group listserv, and I got a couple of comments. I will have more to say in a future post, but I couldn't help but notice what a defensive bunch they are. I never really got the answer I was seeking. Oh well, Dan from Payne Hollow provided some comic relief. Thanks.

Finally, I have gone political, as you can see from my sidebar. I listened to an Obama speech from LaCrosse, Wisconsin yesterday and it was electrifying. He spoke to everything I believe is wrong with this country, and what he would do about it. The best part was when he spoke about education, how he wanted results but didn't want the teachers to teach for the tests. He wants kids to learn art and music too. Amen! And as for the Vote Yes Minnesota, we have the chance to vote on a constitutional amendment that would add a 3/8ths percent sales tax devoted to clean water and outdoor and cultural heritage, with all the proper citizen oversight. How could that be a losing proposition? Those kinds of things just won't get funded otherwise.

new house kitty

We had a good year for kittens around here. Too good. So good, I'll have to find homes for a few of them. But this lucky kitty does not need to worry; its new home will be with us, in the house, as soon as it's ready. Cuteness has its advantages. May I present to you... "Evil Junior".

How could something so cute and innocent be called Evil? We're trying to think of a better name (suggestions are welcome), but this kitty is the newest offspring of the matriarch of the whole kitty clan around here, a tenacious old feline we have dubbed "Evil Calico". EC is not cuddly, not nice, barely even approachable. But she certainly possesses cat wisdom, and in a strange way I admire her for it. She had not had any kittens for a while, and I did not know she had had a litter this year until suddenly one day I saw this little calico crawl out from under the cook shed. "Oh my, it's Evil Junior!" I exclaimed. The name has stuck, so far.

If you have been a longtime reader you may recall I had another house cat, a part flame point Siamese. For all I know I may still have it, but Blue Flame has been missing for a week now. He got out of the cabin one day, and must have had a bit of wanderlust. Unfortunately, Blue Flame is not blessed with much feline wisdom, or strength or agility, and there are predators around here.

I feel like I should be more bothered by Blue Flame's absence, but I must admit, for all his Siameseness, I was never particularly attached to him. His father was presumably Puffball, whom I still miss. But Blue Flame never filled Puffball's place. He just didn't have much personality. So whatever will be will be. And I still have Whiter Biter, who definitely has personality, even if he likes to wander around outside.

Evil Junior is not quite ready to be alone in the new house, and I need to take her to the vet and take care of the conjunctivitis that every kitten seems to have at one point or another, but she seems to know already that she is "The Chosen One".

Sad update: I hate to have to write this. We lost Evil Junior this morning. I totally take responsibility; there are just too many dangers outside and I should have brought her inside to keep her safe.

I'm through with outdoor cats.

catnip gone wild

Behind that beautiful bee balm, which was invited and welcomed into my rock garden, are the biggest catnip plants I have ever seen. I did not plant them. I thought I had carefully cut the flower heads from the catnip I did plant last year so it wouldn't re-seed, but I have learned my lesson: If you must plant catnip, do so in containers, the further away from your garden the better.

By the way, that tall thing behind the catnip is stinging nettle, which has somehow managed to take over part of my garden. Amazingly I've seen it in seed catalogs. Why would anyone deliberately plant something that will cause immediate agony if it is brushed against? I know, the new greens are tasty and loaded with nutrients when cooked, and some folks swear by the tea made from dried leaves as a "tonic". I even make a "stinking nettle tea" that works wonders in the garden. But when it gets to this stage, I need full body armor to deal with it.

I removed the catnip today to make more room for the bee balm and various herbs on the other side of it, and to try and keep it from re-seeding next year. I did harvest catnip leaves until I had a bowl full, to dry for cat treats and a calming tea. I tossed a few of the leaves to the usual bunch of cats hanging around, and they were indifferent. Perhaps they are unaware of the street value of my harvest to all the true catnip junkies out there.

future catnip junkie

catdog

These two were getting pretty friendly this afternoon. Poor Blue Flame has a cold, so his eyes are a bit puffed up right now.

They knew what to do. Today was cold and rainy, and I made it as far as the cook shed. I washed dishes, a two hour task around here, and tried my best to straighten up the house. I estimate I reunited over 50 DVD's and Game Cube games with their cases.

I know, we need the rain, but the yard is looking pretty dismal right now.

St. Peter does WHAT?

In light of recent events, the kids have been asking some thoughtful questions about death and the afterlife. It seems most comforting to me to imagine Puffball in some kind of a cat heaven, complete with catnip bushes and bottomless food bowls and sunny windows with a bird feeder view.

How cats interact in this heaven, however, and just what they take with them of their physical bodies, has been a topic of discussion. Today at breakfast the kids were asking if Puffball would get to meet Lilith. "Lilith was a female, right?"

"Yes."

"Was she spayed?"

"Yes."

"When cats go to heaven, do they get their parts back?"

"Yes", Calvin answers. "There's this guy dressed in white standing at the gate there that gives them back their testicles and stuff."

Ahh, grief mixed with a healthy dose of humor.

goodbye is never easy

Especially when it comes so fast, and unexpectedly. AND, edited to say, when your cat is not even two years old.

We lost a good house cat today. As I detailed in the previous post, I woke at 5 AM to see him on the floor writhing in agony, three of his legs paralyzed. I was frightened and confused; he had been just fine the night before. Mr. Attitude and I were sitting on the couch reading books together, and Puffball was stretched out next to us, perfectly content. I commented how he looked like roadkill. I now regret that statement.

I called the local veterinarian and left a message. She called back a few minutes later; I described the symptoms, and she said it sounded like a blood clot where his main artery splits to his hind legs. She said to bring him in when her office opened; it was a serious condition but there was no immediate emergency treatment that could be done, except maybe give him a quarter of an aspirin if we had any. We didn't, not that it would have mattered.

I brought him into the living room where it was warmer, then later put him into a box lined with bath towels. By that time, his hind legs were stiff and cold, and he was unresponsive.

A quick check at the vet's confirmed the worst. The vet said she's never seen a cat survive that condition for any length of time. I tearfully consented to euthanasia. Watching him die was actually more peaceful than helplessly watching him suffer at home.

When the ground thaws, he will be buried alongside Lady and Annie, the dogs, Lilith the cat, and Topper the horse. We're getting way too much of a pet cemetery going here.

I sure miss him.

Puffball's genetic material lives on, however, in his son Blue Flame. Blue, because his eyes are the most gorgeous sky blue I've ever seen in a cat, and Flame, because he is a flame point Siamese. I have a feeling he will be a specially spoiled cat these next few days.

cat x 3

Where does one end and another begin? Who knows. But I do know, I took two photos of these cats up in Calvin's bed, and a cat was sticking its tongue out in each photo. I thought this one, with little Blue Flame's tongue visible, was the least offensive.

Awww! Aren't they sweet?

what is it about cats and boxes anyway?

Puffball decided to take up residence in the Christmas ornaments today. He sure looked cozy.

walking on water, and other things I did today

Frozen water, that is.It's been cold enough that when I walked out to get the mail, which is as far away from home as I went today, I dared to check the status of the ice by walking on it. To make sure, I took a broom and brushed off a bit of the snow covering near shore and looked at it and knocked on it. Solid, clear, and smooth, at least four inches if not more. Perfect, except it froze so fast that there's a huge crack running the length of the pond, with one of the sides about 1/4" above the other. My ice skates are still at the storage shed twenty miles away, along with some essential winter gear. Will be getting them tomorrow.

I would have shoveled off the dusting of snow this afternoon, but I don't think the temperature got above 15 degrees, and there was a strong west wind. It was a much better day for indoor activities, such as organizing and decluttering.

Note the neat piles of folded clothes, and the space in front of the bookshelf which wasn't there before. When you live in a small house, any bit of clutter, unnecessary stuff, or disarray makes it feel even smaller. I spend a lot of my time tending to these things, since oddly enough everyone else seems to tolerate it. If they only knew what inner peace the simple task of house cleaning brings! I know...dream on...

And Puffball on the computer chair: he looked so peaceful I just had to include him. Of course he knew that the chair was meant for human use, but he just looked at me smugly when I asked him to move. So I brought in another chair. Animals...

While running one armful of clutter out to the garbage and the tarp garage, I noticed a hawk soaring and hovering above the swamp beyond the garden. I had noticed one there a few days ago, doing the exact same thing. I went back to the house to grab the binoculars, and I watched it hover and soar, then another one joined it. Finally they both disappeared over the aspens across the swamp. I'm not sure what species they were; they almost looked like ospreys, although I don't think I've seen them here this time of year. An osprey would have reason to hover over the open, moving water of the creek, which is about where it was.
update- after reviewing two field guides, I think they were rough-legged hawks. An osprey here this time of year, away from big water, would be unlikely.

Later on I checked my home brew, which I had been concerned about because I didn't see carbon dioxide happily bubbling through the airlock. But after I transferred it to the glass carboy and set it up on the counter I immediately saw airlock activity. It looked and smelled about like a beer should at that point; actually I found myself inhaling the aroma of the sludge on the bottom of the brewing bucket after I transferred the beer. A fragrant mix of hops, yeast, coriander, and orange peel.

As I was reluctantly dumping the sludge behind a balsam on the edge of the yard, I noticed some activity on the forest floor about thirty feet away. I looked up, and there was a ruffed grouse, a bit agitated about my presence and showing the ruff of feathers around its neck, but not flying away. I stood still, it looked at me, made a slight clucking noise, and walked away slowly. Usually I don't get to see grouse that close for more than a split second before they take off in an explosive flurry of wingbeats.

I love how I don't have to go too far, or even do anything but my normal household activities, to see hawks, grouse, and all the other wonders that exist here.

okay, so I'll do some catblogging

This is Puffball, my 1 1/2 year old Siamese mix blobcat. I posted kitten pics of him in June or July of 2005. He now weighs around 20 pounds and likes to eat and sleep. A lot.

And this is Blue Flame, 6 month old son of Puffball before Puffball got altered. I guess you could call Blue Flame a true flame point Siamese. I've always had a thing for Siamese cats. I'm strange that way. :)

By the way, Calvin and Mr. Attitude (helped by Starflower) took the cat pics. I have better things to do with my time.

woodstove critters

Funny how dogs and cats forget their differences when there is good heat involved on a cold day. (barely rose above freezing...they were predicting mid forties)

Yes, that is Hopi in front of the stove. She is growing.

And on the left is Whiter Biter, our part time indoor cat. I like his personality perhaps better than any of our cats, but he likes to roam. However, this time of year he knows when the stove's fired up there's no sense roaming too far. He gave me a very indignant look this afternoon when he'd come in and I had let the fire burn out.

I did spend the whole day in an old T-shirt and new flannel jammie pants. Life is good when you don't have to dress up.