Catching cats

When my brother and I were growing up on a ranch, he learned to trap. I won't describe the kinds of traps he used--I'm sure he's had some nightmares about them and plenty of regrets. It was the way he was taught by the his father and the government trapper and probably some other skilled trappers.

When the trapper came to talk to our father, my dog Tami was both fascinated and scared. He smelled like dead animals. He always sat on the stairs rather than in a chair, and held his hat in his hand as he and my father talked about the ones they wanted to kill--coyotes.

In my father's world, there were good animals and bad animals, and Man was the one who knew best to determine who fell where. Coyotes were the worst of the bad because they killed good things, like sheep. The connections among seemingly unrelated changes weren't made: the use of DDT and other modern chemical warfare; the demise of the jackrabbit population; the increase in coyote population that occurrs when more are killed; the decline of the bird population (especially of my father's beloved quail) and so on.

I have tried to approach my involvement with feral cats with great respect for their wisdom and willingness to be caught and with a sensitivity to what it feels like to be caught and contained. When I got interested in TNR, I learned about drop traps and made one with a padded door. Instead of a trap made of plastic net propped on a stick, I chose to feed the cats inside the trap and use a drop door. On the days I want to trap, I set the door and stand inside the house with my hand ready to pull a string that yanks the nail out holding the door up.

The next moments tend to be the most stressful--rushing out to throw a sheet over the trap, grabbing a wire trap that has a lift door and is covered with cloth except for both ends so it looks like a tunnel, keeping my knee on the drop trap, lifting the two doors, and then trying to close the door on the small trap without a tail in it. I cover the carrying trap completely and haul my catch to the car.

This morning I meant to catch three--Rimpoche, Felicity, and Zorra, the last of Mamacita's kittens. Because they spend many nights and parts of days inside, I mistakenly thought they would let me grab them at their food bowls. One attempt and I knew it wasn't going to work.

By the time I brought the drop trap inside and set up the smaller carrying traps, only one would come forward quickly. I had chances with the other two, but blew it, so they get another day to think about their rite-of-passage surgery. I think Rimpoche is especially concerned about her freedom and autonomy. If she weren't in estrus, I would be inclined to let her out and try next week. But we are trying to avoid adding to the cat population so I feel more determined than usual to catch her and Felicity, who has also been out chasing the boys.

Like life, this may or may not go according to my plan. As my father used to say, "We''ll see."