On a snowy afternoon last winter, I was standing at my front window when a large bobcat sauntered around the corner of the house, across the front yard and driveway, and down the street. He was larger than either of my dogs, which are between 19 and 22 pounds, so possibly a male—THE male of this 20-60-square-mile territory. At any rate, I will say “he” looked very calm, as you might expect of a dominant cat enjoying a stroll around his property. His fur was sleek and healthy-looking, including the handsome, distinctive cheek ruff and upturned tail about five inches long.
I could hardly believe my eyes. I’d moved to this house—which backs up to a creek, and therefore a greenway for wildlife to get around the city—only a few months ago. But I’ve lived four blocks away for 26 years, and only once in that time had I seen a bobcat. Now I see one after only three months?
His manner reminded me unavoidably of Jane Austen’s opening line of Pride and Prejudice, that “a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.” The bobcat in possession of my property may well have been on the prowl, not for prey, but for one of the several females that hold their own territories within his. Bobcats are generally solitary in winter, but in January and February, the males begin searching for mates. Unlike the expectation for Austen’s “single man,” they often will mate with more than one female in a season. And because male territories, though large, may overlap, there can be fights. (This guy didn’t look worried.)
Once a female bobcat has kittens, she will drive away any males that come near her. While significantly smaller than the dads, mom bobcats are fierce! Gestation lasts a couple of months, and then she will give birth to and raise litters of about three kittens. A den is identifiable by the strong odor of urine she sprays at its entrance. (Smell bobcat pee? Give wide berth!)
But I digress. After the Bobcat in Possession had passed through (without a sound—the dogs snoozing at my feet didn’t even stir), I went outside to look. Of course there was no sign of the cat, but the pawprints in the snow were 2-1/4” across, more than twice those my little housecat had left on the snowy deck during a brief foray on leash earlier in the day.
When I came back inside, some bobcat scent must have come with me, as Strider, the miniature schnauzer with The Nose of the family, woke up, lifted his head, and said “Woof!” A bit later, both cats came and looked out the front window. That was all. The wild creature had made his way through the very heart of our suburban neighborhood, and even the animals were none the wiser until he had passed.
By sundown, the drifting flakes had obscured even his pawprints in the snow.
What lovely essay!!
Thank you! It was such an astonishing moment!