The evening is clear and cool verging on cold. Cathy and I sit in the cab of the caregiver's truck, whispering so the cats won't be spooked. The windows are rolled up except for a little space on my side where the nylon rope passes through. Thirty feet ahead of us in the fading light, the drop trap sits, empty but well-baited with kibble mixed with tuna. Using the drop trap was Cathy's idea. She saw it in action for the first time last week, and thinks it might be effective here.
The caregiver, an elderly man, has said goodnight and told us he was going to bed. He will be leaving his home soon for a seniors' apartment in Salisbury. It's the right thing to do; he can no longer sustain himself in his partially finished home in the woods, but he is a country man and even small town life will be an adjustment. He knows who we are, but his mind play tricks on him and he had forgotten the arrangement we made to spay and neuter the semi feral cats that are part of his world so his next door neighbors can continue to feed them. He thinks we are taking them away forever. We were here two weeks ago, but I'm sure he doesn't remember our names, however he can name every variety of tree in the forest that surrounds his and his neighbors' homes.
When we arrived tonight the caregiver already had a deep orange tom in a transfer cage we left with him on our previous visit. The cage, covered with a section of fleece blanket, sits on the ground behind the truck in the narrow drive, near our van. Cathy has carried a snap trap along the path through a small stand of trees to the neighbor's house and set it on the deck where they feed their own small feral colony. The cats from both colonies migrate back and forth from one food source to the other, so perhaps we will catch one of the old man's group visiting next door.
Shortly after the door closes behind our caregiver, in the fading light we see two orange tabbies approach the trap. Intrigued by the odor of tuna and not having eaten all day, they move cautiously, but with a certain excitement as they glide around the cage looking for a way to reach the tempting treat. It takes the larger cat only a few minutes to find the door and go in. He starts to bolt down the food.
"Steady" I think. The spindle that holds our end of the rope is wedged under my ample thigh. There's a lot of food in the trap, our theory being that if the first cat stays and eats with no harm coming to it, other cats will be encouraged to enter the trap too. We will wait.
The second cat is frustrated, dodging back and forth seeking the way to get to that wonderful food. Now there is another cat, large and black. Perhaps it is the one whose damaged tail we amputated earlier this year or it may be one that we took to be neutered two weeks ago. It stands on its back legs, paws on the cage, sniffing the air, then it, too begins to pace and circle the trap. Suddenly a kitten has materialized out of the shadows. It appears to be a tabby, and it joins the others around the trap. We hold our breath as the smaller orange cat pauses by the door of the cage. Quickly, he darts inside and falls upon the feast with gusto.
Two cats would be good, but we wait. The black and the tabby have been joined by two more adult cats. It is increasingly dark, but they are tabbies or torties. They pace and circle, and one reaches a paw between the bars, trying to pull a chunk of tuna toward her.
I am focusing on the tabby kitten. It appears to be three or four months old, and there is something about the way it walks. I ask Cathy if she notices anything. She does. The little creature has an odd rolling gait as if something is wrong with its legs or back. It gets around well, though, and searches with the others for that elusive entryway, pacing back and forth on one side of the trap, then another.
It seems to go on for a long time. Just before the last light disappears, I see the smaller orange cat raise his head. Then the larger one stops eating too and looks around. We can't wait any longer. I pull the spindle out from under me, and slacken the rope.
The door drops instantly and the cats outside the trap scatter in all directions. The ones inside dash around, climbing the sides of the trap and trying desperately to escape.
We are out of the truck in a flash. Cathy grabs two transfer cages and I carry the flashlight and covers for the cages. She lines up a transfer cage at the door of the trap, opens both doors and in a very short time the larger cat shoots through. The smaller one is almost on his heels but Cathy drops the door. Quickly she has the other cage in place and it takes only another minute to get the second cat, really just a kitten now that we see it close, into the cage.
Cathy carries the covered cages to the area beside the van. She`s a great trapping partner. Back problems keep me from doing any but the lightest lifting and she does not let me carry anything that has any weight. We take more tuna and kibble from the van and add bait to the trap. This time, I put a couple of small pieces of tuna just inside the door of the trap, hoping the smell will guide the cats to the right spot to enter.
We return to the truck. It`s completely dark now and the trees around us rustle in a slight breeze. Talking in whispers we chuckle as we recall our last trip. Cathy saw something white that was taller than a cat moving in the darkness beside the path to the neighbors`s house. A minute later we saw a skunk scuttling through the bushes, it`s white-edged plume of a tail high, much higher than a cat`s back. I grew up in the country and skunks do not concern me; they usually don`t interfere with anyone who leaves them alone. We left that one alone.
A shadow moves near the trap. It`s the kitten. He circles, reaches the door and smells the tuna just inside. Eagerly, he grabs it, then with his odd shuffling gait he enters the trap and goes to the food spread before him. I drop the door. Something is wrong with the kitten. It may need medical care and we can`t risk it getting away.
It takes a few minutes to get the kitten into a transfer cage. It's difficult to see, but there is definitely something wrong with him; his walk is very unusual. I open more tuna and add it to the trap, putting a couple of pieces just inside the door again. I return to the truck and Cathy goes over to check the snap trap, coming back to report that it is still set and unoccupied. I ask if she would like to handle the rope, but she declines. Maybe next time.
The moon, full and bright, comes up behind the caregiver`s home. It sheds a great light on the driveway in front of the truck. Unfortunately the trap, placed at sunset, is under a tree and the moonlight does not touch it. From time to time, I flick the lights of the truck on just long enough to see if anything is near the trap. Despite the cold a few hardly mosquitoes are still out and occasionally we slap ourselves where one bites.
To pass the time, I tell Cathy about the colony next door. It was one of our first colonies. All the remaining cats have been altered and we have been trying for years to get the caregiver here to allow us to alter his cats too. It is only because he can't care for them anymore that he finally agreed. The colonies of course have a lot of interaction and we found feline leukemia there early on. I recall two sweet kittens, one already showing symptoms, that we had to put down in our first year of operation. Because the disease is deadly and has no cure all cats from both colonies are now tested.
Earlier this year Marlah and I trapped at the colony and caught two injured males and pretty tortie female. One male had a nasty wound on his chest and the other had a badly damage tail, perhaps from being caught in a rabbit snare. The chest wound was treated, the cat was given a shot of convenia, a slow release antibiotic, and returned to the colony. The tail had to amputated from the other one, he was also given convenia and the last time I saw him he was streaking away from the spot where we released him after his trip to the vet. The caregivers report that both males are doing well and coming to eat regularly.
Sadly the female tested positive for feluk and had to be put down. She was a carrier and carriers can live several years, but they infect other cats, and if they have kittens, which she surely must have done, the kittens are born with the disease and die shortly after birth. In addition, the disease destroys the cats' immune system, so if we had attempted to spay her she would have almost certainly have gotten a post-op infection that would have killed her slowly and painfully. Trapping can be brutal when decisions like this have to be made; I'm glad they don't happen often.
Time passes. I check my cell phone. Almost 9 pm. We saw one dark cat sitting on a woodpile but it came toward us and walked past the truck, perhaps heading over to see if dinner at the neighbors' might be available with less danger. I can't tell in the darkness if it has a tail. Neither of the caregivers has put out food today, so the only goodies in the neighbors' yard are inside the snap trap. Other than that one cat, we see nothing. The moving moon shadows trick us into thinking we discern animals, but when the truck lights go on, the trap and surrounding area are starkly empty.
I decide it's time to go. I flick the headlights on one last time and there, inside the trap is a small cat eating happily. Where did she come from? Neither of us saw her slip through the night. I drop the door.
We approach with a transfer cage and cover, and the cat goes ballistic. She climbs the sides of the trap, at one point hanging from the bars at the top by her front feet with her back feet not touching the floor. I find a small metal rod on the ground under the tree and pass it through the bars, gently pushing her in the right direction. Finally she is safely caged and covered. It never ceases to amaze me how the simple act of putting a small blanket over the cage calms even the more spastic cat almost instantly.
We turn the drop trap over so the food inside can fall out for the cats to find. I fill the caregiver's feeding bowls with kibble and put the rest of the bag and the remaining tuna on the wooden table in the yard where the cats normally eat. Cathy and I fold the drop trap and she places it in the van then loads the cats.
The power went out soon after we arrived at the colony today and it is very dark amongst the trees as we follow the path to the neighbor's home. When they see our flashlight the two of them, husband and wife, come out onto the deck. There's a cat in the snap trap. Cathy pulls back the cover she had left over it, and we all recognize her as a female we spayed two weeks ago. Her left ear is notched and the man remembers her well; she did not want to leave the shed where we put her to recover from surgery and appears to be only semi feral. Cathy opens the trap and she is gone like a shot, but the tuna Cathy used for bait is also gone, so at least she got lunch for her ordeal.
Back at the van, Cathy puts the empty trap on top of the drop trap. Her hunch about using the drop trap certainly paid off and as I edge the van slowly down the narrow drive to the road and turn toward Moncton the yard light in the neighbors' yard goes on. We are both very pleased with our night's work.
No comments:
Post a Comment