My Bobcat Neighbors

By theadmin

I had known there were bobcats denning under the house where I was living. I came to the South Texas ranch every summer to lead youth photography workshops. We’d leave a water bowl in the shade under the deck and wouldn’t think much else of it. That was until the summer of 2017, when a beautiful, young female bobcat stopped to drink water from the pond across from where I sat one evening at sunset. She let me crawl closer and closer to her with my camera. The connection I felt was instant. After that, I started seeing bobcats everywhere. Finally, back at the house I now call Bobcat Manor, I finally met the mother bobcat who lived beneath me — the cat I would come to know as Momcat. I spent every day getting closer to her and the three kittens she raised that summer. Over time, they allowed me not only to observe their lives but to enter into their world.

At first, I tried to be sneaky. I bought netting and wore camo to stake out the deck, waiting for the cats to appear. Finally, out came Momcat with a tiny kitten in tow. She sat down to drink water and looked straight into my lens, like, yeah, I see you. I’ve never felt so stupid in my life. Over the coming weeks, I would learn just how intelligent these creatures are. I learned that bobcats talk all the time, in unique, chatty chirps. The kittens knew exactly when mom was saying follow me, or stay put, or cut it out when they were horsing around. I watched the trio grow from little roly-poly fluff balls stumbling over their too-big paws to brave, adventurous teenagers testing their boundaries, itching to leave the den. I learned that bobcats grieve the way we do. During a subsequent summer — I’ve returned every year since that one — Momcat lost a new kitten to a coyote. She bounded up to the rooftop and sat on the railing, overlooking the scrubland of prickly pear and scraggly trees, staring and growling in the coyote’s direction. She sat there for hours.

I’ve gotten to experience what few have: an up-close and intimate window into the lives of a family of wild animals. Even those who study the movements and habits of bobcats — through tagging their ears and tracking them or dissecting droppings — couldn’t know what I’ve seen. People wouldn’t believe that these animals, who are supposed to be quiet and solitary, will den together. But I’ve seen it. Momcat and another mother raised litters together for two following years, babysitting and even feeding each other’s kittens. They had different parenting styles; Momcat was a protector, while the other gave out tough love and cuffed the kittens with her big paws when they misbehaved. They broke up after they failed to fight off the coyote. The second mom took her litter of four out of the den and never returned. Momcat stayed at Bobcat Manor with her one remaining kitten.

This past summer, a new cat seems to have taken over the territory — an ocelot-looking beauty with striking markings and an arched, thin body. She’s more skittish. If she sees me even through the window, she’ll pick up her kittens by the scruff of their necks and walk them out of the den. Where they go, I don’t know, but eventually little heads will pop out again from below deck, when they’ve snuck back and the kittens have gotten bored and hungry. It’s quieter here, though, and feels different. The horned lizards were late in arriving, and even the snakes and bugs have changed. Another wildlife photographer, one in California following cats through the woods, told me he had the same experience. Everything is interconnected. Between the freeze here and the wildfires there, the degrading of the land and the tearing down of habitats, it’s no wonder that things can’t stay the same.

When I think about everything I’ve gone through and everything the bobcats — especially Momcat — have taught me, I realize how much they have changed me. I was always too cynical to believe people who said nature was healing, but it’s true. As anyone who spends time connecting with the natural world will understand, I’ve become attuned in a different way. I see and hear things I didn’t use to. I know when there’s a cat outside without looking because of the rush of the birds startling. I met Momcat at a dark time. She gave me a reason to wake up in the morning — wondering if they would come, what I would get to see. And now that I know what I know, the cats have given me something to fight for and to share with the world. Why was I given this privilege of becoming a part of their lives? I will never know, but I feel that I owe them something now.

I have plans for a photography exhibit and have continuing bobcat education on my Instagram at @kaigner. If you would like to learn more about their lives, I would love to see you there.

Learn how to protect baby wildlife when they start to appear in the spring.