Bobcats in the Park

February 16, 2009 - Monday

Bobcats!


I started running in December. Well, kind of run/walking. I did it in December so that I could say that it wasn't a New Year's resolution. I'm not going to join the ruck of the bobtail joggers out there all in their 50s out to change their life starting on January 1st. No, not me. I'll start two weeks earlier. I'll be a seasoned pro by the time the first rolls around. I was actually limping, I think, by January 1. I jog/run/walk/limp in River Legacy Park in North Arlington, Texas, a "linear" park that borders the Trinity River for a few miles between Dallas and Fort Worth. At times, the park bordering the river is pretty civilized - very park looking - but as it heads West the river swoops out behind a few straggling rows of apartment complexes, turning pretty wild. A cement trail runs the length of the park, approximately 8 feet across. Well, nature may abhor a vacuum, but it doesn't abhor a nice smooth cement path. I've had nearly a dozen North American bobcat sightings along it in just the past two months. These cats have become "urbanized" as they say, which means that they are living cheek by jowl with man in a setting in which they know they are protected from hunting, but where their proximity to man provides for an abundance of food down the food chain from them. We've both moved into their habitat one one hand, but also in doing so, we've provided a sort of incentive to them to hang around and even to enter suburban areas. I have come to believe they see us as something like cattle. We're big, sure, but slow moving, non-threatening, and as such, obviously not predators. We're also way too big to be a meal, so we're just kind of scenery to them.

My first encounter happened on one of those classic North Texas winter days; overcast, cold, windy with a chance of freezing rain. Sort of a miserable day to go jogging, and as such, the paths were pretty empty. I'd made it to the far limit of my excursion and had just turned around when, while making a turn in the path, I saw what appeared to be a large house cat facing away from me, sitting, sunning himself on the cement. As I approached, the cat stood and turned and I was immediately drawn up short. Brilliant black and white spots stood out on a deep golden background on this animal's coat. In standing, it had turned sideways and taken a step or two, which was enough to make it immediately apparent that this was not house cat. A stubby fluff of white flicked the air where a long cat's tail should be. Thick padded feet protruded from slightly overly long legs. Black tufts of fur stood from it's outsized ears. It was about the size of a small spaniel; much larger than a house cat. I watched, waiting for it to notice me, and even risked a step or two in its direction. It was half turned to face me but never once looked at me. Is slowly - very slowly - walked off the path not away from me, but sort of towards me but to the left. I couldn't believe that the animal acted as if I wasn't even there. By the time it made it through the little ditch at the side of the trail, and into the woods, it was no more than 20 feet from me! I felt a slight twinge of fear, but not much. There was absolutely nothing threatening about this animal's behavior. I watched until it passed deep enough into the trees to be hard to pick out amongst the limbs and branches. Then I looked around to see if anyone had witnessed this, but I was alone for as far as I could see.

The next encounter was perhaps a week later. This was a different cat; larger, less brilliantly colored, and nearly the size of a small retriever. I turned a corner after having passed a stop bicyclist who was following at some distance. This cat was walking directly towards me on the other side of the path as if he knew the convention of passing on the left! These paths are about 8 feet wide throughout the park system. He was on the shoulder just off the path and as he approached - not making any eye contact whatsoever or any motion that indicated he was even aware of me - I found myself subconsciously taking a half step off the path. This was a big cat. I turned to see if I had witnesses and saw the bicyclist who had seen this encounter and had stopped, watching, about 20 yards behind me. Behind him, though, a park maintenance cart was coming up the path, making a low motor noise. This was the only thing the cat seemed to notice, and it had his full attention. Unbelievably, as the cart got within eyesight, the cat - who just opposite me on the far side of the path - stopped completely, standing staring ahead! We were absolutely no more than 9 feet from one another! I had never experienced anything like this in my life. As the cart approached, the cat thought better of things, and slowly walked away from me towards the trees, not because of my presence at all, but because of the cart. For that moment as we stood across from each other, I felt so completely a part of the world around me, the natural world around me, and yet at the same time so completely insanely juxtaposed to this suburban park setting. I was amazed and felt a sense of honor. I had been accepted, allowed, tolerated, by the most wild creature I have ever seen outside of a zoo.

The third encounter ocurred no more than 10 days ago, and was perhaps the most moving. It was kind of a misty morning, so hardly anyone was at the park. There's a bridge about 50 yards in length that carries the bike path over the Trinity as it heads west to Collins/157. This is pretty close to the main park, and as such it's pretty unusual to see any kind of wildlife there, but here I am, approaching this bridge and I see a full grown bobcat standing at the other end, right in the middle. I walk to about midway down the bridge and she begins slowly approaching me. It's one thing to be on a path with one of these animals, but to be on a bridge 20 feet over the river which is about a foot deep there, well, I wasn't above backing up, but my options were beginning to narrow. She proceeds slowly, and as she does so, I notice that she periodically stops and sticks her muzzle through the bars of the bridge railing and mouthes something. I never did hear her - it must have been quiet - but she was clearly vocalizing for some reason. I wondered if she was confused at finding herself suddenly 20 feet above the river or something like that, but then as she got about 20 feet nearer to me, it became clear what was going on. Pop! Up comes this little fluff of grey fur up onto the bridge from the far side. She was calling her cub! The cub, which was about half her size, or about the size of a regular house cat, only stockier, ran to her and brushed up against her. Mom turned and nonchalantly began walking towards me, once again pretty much ignoring me. Not so with the cub who was all eyes as they approached, hanging back just a little bit. Ok, so this is now one of those wilderness situations that you see on the Discovery Channel where some idiot finds himself between a mother bear and her cub, but here I am, half way across the bridge and twenty feet in the air myself at this point, so I just stood still while they proudly walked past. We were not 4 feet apart. The mother just casually turned her head a little towards me just like she was making sure it was OK, but for the most part she just kept marching while junior followed up the rear. I watched them all the way to the far end of the bridge and off into the brush before I could even bring myself to move. There wasn't another soul in sight.

Most recent experience, no more than 4 days ago, and I'm walking near where the first encounter happened. This time, I round a bend in the path to see no less than three bobcats no more than 20 yards ahead of me. It's a mother an two cubs, larger than the last, maybe a year old, I'd guess. This time, however, we're all going in the same direction. I followed this threesome for 5 minutes before it became apparent that not only did they know I was behind them (I'd even begun calling to them to see if I could just get one to turn around), but they didn't seem to be much concerned about getting out of my way. They were walking very slowly, half the speed I was walking, so I had to stop from time to time. Finally, the mom heads them off the path, almost as if she was annoyed at my impatience. This time she made eye contact, though. As she was just about to disappear into the understory growth, she turned her back to a downed tree, peed on it, and locked eyes with me. The message was clear: "Just in case you were wondering, these are MY woods!"

I started carrying a camera after the second encounter but so far have not had a camera on a day I see them, but when I do, you will see a YouTube posting, if I have any luck at all!