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Bobcat came back

My office door was open when I heard a sudden bird commotion by the rocks along the stream: jays squawking and finches chattering. Mushroom, our Bengal cat, was sitting just inside the doorway, eyes and ears fixed toward the rocks. I put my binoculars to my eyes just in time to see the bobcat walk off with a big quail. He is so casual. I’ve seen him make kills twice now, and both times he’s made it look easy. Mushroom, herself the best rodent huntress I’ve ever known, seems to think the bobcat is really hot. She’s careful though. I could tell where the bobcat was eating the quail just by watching Mushroom’s ears. She waited about ten minutes before going out, then, very slowly, approached the scene, smelling everything along the way. She finally worked her way onto a rock where she could stare down at the stream—evidently from a respectful distance. They seem to have it worked out.

The bobcat’s all hips and shoulders. He’s wary, but not spooky—totally different from a feral cat. I’ve never seen him walk any way but slow. When he’s seen me—a couple of times we’ve run into each other—he looks and then just saunters off, kind of the same as I do, or just looks and stares as if to say “Who are you and what are you doing on my land?” My brother saw two bobcats here once, walking across the meadow together. This guy’s not too big. The first bobcat I saw here was so big I thought it must be a lion. I tell that story in Pharmako/Gnosis.

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