Feral Cat Behavior

The wind picked up scattering the dirt at my feet. I peered up at the sky noticing angry black clouds beginning to gather overhead. Soon the rain would begin in earnest. Brushing the remainder of loose hair from my horse Racer, I glanced out by the creek. The ferns near the bank were rustling vigorously. Suddenly the fronds parted. Out stepped a cat carrying an object in its mouth. At first, I thought the cat might have a large field mouse in her mouth. But as she neared, I could tell she was carrying a kitten. I had never seen this cat before, but there she was heading across our pasture with a purpose. I could see her distinct gray and white pattern of her swirled coat. As she passed me, she started to run, heading directly for our shop a few yards away. Startled, I dropped the currycomb and followed her. She darted through the cat door located on the side of our knife shop. By the time I arrived at the shop door, she had returned out the cat door for a quick dash back to the creek. I opened the door to find my husband sitting in his shop chair with an amazed look on his face a beige-and-white kitten on his lap!

“Do you know her?” Mike asked, his hand gently stroking the kitten. I looked down at the little bundle of fur that was frantically searching for mom’s milk bar. Grabbing a clean shop rag lying nearby, I wrapped the little one up securely tucking the kitten against my shoulder. “I have never seen her before. Looks like you are a daddy!” I added with a grin.
Amazed, he just stared at me. We both heard the flap of the cat door open. The cat again jumped up into Mike’s lap, this time leaving a grey-and-white kitten who favored her mom, before she jumped down and fled out the door. “What the heck?” Mike muttered, as he picked up the kitten and held it up. “Who is this cat?”

The strange cat made five trips from the creek to the shop; leaving behind on my husband’s lap each time a kitten. On the fifth trip, she laid down in the large cardboard box we had arranged for the babies. Stuffed with clean, soft rags, the box held enough room for the whole family. As the kittens began to seek her milk bar and find her teats, we picked up the box, family and all and carried the family into the house. I put them upstairs in the cat room, leaving food and water and several litter pans nearby for the queen. Going downstairs, I shut the specially-designed door at the foot of the stairs. The chicken wire door would keep the other cats away from the new family.

A few hours later, “Fern” (this is what we christened her) started creating a ruckus at the door. She wanted out, and by the insistence in her voice, she wanted out NOW! Mike and I talked about this new development deciding after a few minutes of her meows becoming frantic that we best let her out. It wouldn’t be the first time we had to raise bottle babies if it came to that. I opened up the door. Ignoring the resident cats, Fern quickly navigated herself around them, racing down the hallway and out the cat door. I followed her to the outside steps and watched her streaking back to the creek in the rain. Not knowing if we would see her again, I stopped at the outside freezer, grabbing containers of KMR (Kitten Milk Replacer) and a bag of bottles. If she didn’t come back, the kittens would need to be bottle fed.

Sitting at the table, discussing this strange turn of events, we heard a commotion at the cat door. Norton, my tuxedo alpha cat stood by the entrance growling. I walked over and picked him up. I put him in another room and shut the door. Returning to the kitchen I noticed Fern had come back. In her mouth, she had a huge gray-and-black striped kitten. He was so large, she couldn’t carry him so she dragged him! Gently, I knelt down, talking softly, I was able to relieve her of her burden. Cradling him in my arms, she followed me upstairs, keeping an eye on my precious cargo the entire time. I put the kitten down gently with his siblings, sShe jumped in with her new family and they began to feed. I could tell she was exhausted. I left the room.

Two days later when I went upstairs in the morning to do a check on the family, I found Fern lying very still outside of the box. She wasn’t moving. Fern had died sometime in the night. She must have known that her kittens would be safe with us. How did she know?

Cats use scent to signal other cats. Cat urine can be a directional aide, a secret message, an invitation to party, or a warning to other cats to stay away, the territory is claimed NO Visitors Allowed! When you start to feed a feral or stray cat outside on your property, not interfering with them in any fashion, they become comfortable. It is not uncommon to watch cats after they have eaten their fill, to saunter over to a clump of bushes, raise their tail up, shake their rear vigorously and spray the leaves. This spray alerts other cats that the area is safe. Much like the hobos, who at the turn of the century would make a primitive drawing of a smiling cat on the walls of homes where they found food. The scent (like the sign) attracts other cats into the feeding area. Pretty soon, one cat can turn into ten.

We started bottle feeding the six kittens who were added to our extended family. Now fifteen stray cats were inhabiting our home.

Over the past twenty years since I have been rescuing stray and feral cats, I have had the pleasure of meeting so many wonderful creatures! My journey has been incredible, heartbreaking and rewarding. The lessons my cats have taught me will stay with me a lifetime. The same way as every cat that graced my life remains in my heart forever. I miss them all the ones adopted out into loving homes and the ones who have passed over the bridge. They are missed, and they are remembered.

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