Friday, March 30, 2007

Taking a Stand for the Wild

MrrrrrRRrrrr,

Call me a species-ist. But I think native wild animals should receive extra consideration from humans.

While I usually reserve a great deal of respect for Canadians, the whole annual harp seal hunt bothers me. That doesn’t mean I’m opposed to someone hunting seals to clothe themselves, to eat, or to observe a native cultural tradition. As far as I’m concerned, that’s a bit like my friend Black Cat hunting to live outdoors here in Wisconsin. It’s not for me, or most cats, for that matter but, it is a fact of life. And that might be similar to humans hunting deer here in Wisconsin – a good sized deer can supplement store-bought food in a meaningful way for many humans.

But a commercial hunt – a platform primarily for people to buy expensive coats made of seal fur when there are other things to keep you warm – I just think that is inappropriate. The problem isn’t just Canadian, though. Likely, if they could not find a market for their seal products, it wouldn’t be lucrative – so I guess they share the blame with the places that sell such things and, in particular, with the people who buy them.

Some people claim that the hunt is necessary to control the harp seal population. That doesn’t go too far for me either. And, I don’t think harp seals should be blamed for any decline in cod populations.

My response? I’m not eating any Canadian seafood. I wrote a letter to the Canadian Prime Minister based on some information I saw on the International Fund for Animal Welfare website. There’s no doubt that there is a lot of controversy around this topic. If it bugs you, you should look at both sides of the story.

But for me, it is a wild animal thing. Right now, the denizens of icy places have a lot to contend with. Thawing ice seems to have reduced seal production this year. Yet, the Canadian government authorized the hunt of 270,000 young seals just yesterday.

And why am I upset about seals and not other things? True, I eat chicken in my cat food, for instance. I don’t have really good answers for all these things. I just do the best I can.

Me, I am not a wild animal. I have no functional place in the wild ecosystem I call home. I’m happy to be domesticated, even though I have a few wild behaviors, chittering at birds, pouncing, stalking, and others. But I don’t belong out there. I belong in here…purring and blogging.

Sunday, March 25, 2007

Moving

So we’re moving. Our big house is turning into a jumble of half-packed boxes, emptied drawers, rolled up rugs, and disassembled furniture. This is of course a tremendous opportunity for Alex and me. We are maximizing our fun. But it is a bittersweet process.

We are excited about our new home on Long Island – the little house. Alex has lived there before, so she feels like it is home. We all stayed there for a couple months last fall while our people made the decisions that will take us back. During that time, I came to like the little house a great deal, especially the fireplace and the room with all the windows, and I am intrigued by the proximity of the beach. The water there is salty! Alex has seen a seal in it! Deer are cool too. We have lots of deer in Wisconsin but they don’t come into the yard. They have better things to do…and much more space.

Having said that, we are going to miss our staircase, with its wide red cedar railing, enormously. We run up and down it jumping recklessly across empty space. Alex loves the big closets and the endless hiding places of our basement. And there is something about a maple floor, I’ve found, that is particularly conducive to prolonged sliding after a burst of running – oak just isn’t the same.

We will miss our human neighbors and friends. I am fond of Les and Vicki…they always smell like horse, and Scott and his family who live with Verlyn – a truly great cat guy, and Carl and his family. Carl always has a kind word for a cat and often plays with us. I did so enjoy once sitting on the shoulders of his dad, Win. And, Alex and I are shocked to say it, but we are very sad to leave our vet, Mara.

Mostly, though, I will miss my yard with the creek below. There is great beauty in the soft, spring-fed waters that run through the glaciated hills of my birthplace. Alex will miss her birds – the nuthatches in the iris just outside the library window and the Yellow-bellied Sapsuckers who nest in a tree cavity outside the kitchen window. And we’ll miss the Barred Owls hooting all night in the autumn and the Turkey Vultures courting in the spring. Alex watched a small family of rabbits grow up last year and looks out for them to this day. I’ll miss my outdoor friend Marmot. We both hope Black Cat will be happy with the new big house people.

But in the end, we are cats…and we live in the moment, something humans could learn to do a bit better if you ask me. We’ll get in the car with a twinge of regret, but when we put our paws down in our new home, we’ll be committed to it. New hiding places and sliding techniques will abound. And we’ll have our people.

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

The Cat's Pajamas

Snakes shed their skins. Birds molt their feathers. Mammals shed hair. But those of you human readers who share your lives with cats, have you ever had that slightly odd feeling when seeing your cat again after an hour, a workday, or a brief vacation, that he or she has…well…changed? If your cat were human, you’d ask, “new haircut?” But that’s not quite it.

I’m going to tell you the truth here, now…well, part of it. It’s the catsuits. Yep, we have catsuits. They are complicated affairs carefully custom-made by sources I will not reveal…ever…not even with a lifetime supply of catnip. We change them as needed.

Think about it. Why are we so distressed when you go to take us to the vet? (Needles, through the catsuit!) Or when you take us with you on vacation? (How long will we be away? Will I need a fresh catsuit? Do I have one ordered?) Why do we stress out about being immersed in water? (Shrinkage happens.) It is all about catsuit care and availability. Every cat’s biggest nightmare is being caught without a catsuit. I know, I know, you think this is all the product of one of my people’s fertile imaginations, but I’m telling you the truth.

My catsuits are fairly easy by cat standards. My pal Alex, however, is a stripey cat, and that is one tough catsuit to make: the complexity of stripeys blending into caramel and stone. She keeps an extra on hand at all times – one reason she watches her weight and figure so carefully. Me, I’m more of a daredevil. Occasionally, I stock up on one or two but, I’m young, I love to eat, and right now I don’t have a lot of physically unique “wear” characteristics…like the little worn areas cats get on the back of our rear legs on the joint above our “foot,” or at least the part of the foot that touches the ground. If you keep a spare catsuit too long and put it on one day, you can really give the discerning human a jolt. They get used to it, but it can be hard.

We maintained for years that humans got the idea for children’s pajamas, you know, the ones with “footies,” from cats. We thought you knew. But then the phrase “the cat’s pajamas” jumped into the human lexicon in the 1920s, meaning something or someone remarkable and stylish. Many cats still figured you humans knew because we are remarkable and stylish, but slowly, irrevocably, we learned the truth: except for B. Kliban, humans don’t know about catsuits.

Sometimes I wonder if bees have these complications with their knees?

Saturday, March 17, 2007

The Cat's in the Bag!

What does it mean?

I understand a certain Schroedinger had a cat whom he kept shut up pretty tightly, then lost track of. I just hope he fed that cat.

A “pig in a poke” may be closer to the point. Apparently, a poke is a bag once used for stuffing a piglet into when it was sold at market. People would buy a pig in a poke. Back in the day, say, London 1530, some nasty people would put a cat in a bag and sell it as a pig in a poke. I don’t like the implication, but there it is. I suppose the warning is, don’t buy a pig in a poke – unless you want a cat.

Hence the expression “let the cat out of the bag.” Who knew?



Whenever I go in a bag (I prefer brown paper – no handles), I leave it open. If the bag is lying enticingly on the floor, recently emptied of groceries, I approach from a distance and enter at a full run. The unique physics of the fact that I am in the bag yet crashing into the bottom of it and sliding across the floor (perhaps even colliding with a wall) are quite fascinating.

I try to make my time in the bag quality time. Getting in there with a catnip mouse or one of my favorite spherical objects can enhance the experience. A bit of hide-and-seek or crush-the-bag with my cat pal Alex playing along from the outside (she’s a box cat, herself) can be very entertaining as well.

When I’m in a bag, everyone in the house tends to know about it.

I’ve noticed humans mean something quite different when they say, he’s in the bag. They don’t seem to have as much fun in there as I do. Sometimes I hear them say, it’s in the bag. Yes, but…

Have you noticed, there are so few respectable occasions for the exclamation mark these days? Before I started blogging, my editors insisted on taking them out. In my opinion, “The cat’s in the bag!” is a sentence that just can’t end without an exclamation mark!

Coming soon: the cat's pajamas!

Thursday, March 15, 2007

The Fourth Paw

Mrrrr,

I’ve got questions about biofuels, do you? I know that most of you, when you’re driving and you see the name DIESEL posted in big letters, you think about me. But shockingly, some people actually think about fuel. For the latter group, when they meet me or see my blog, my name raises questions about my relationship to and my thoughts on diesel fuel.

Diesel, like any fuel, can be made from a variety of sources. The world’s first diesel engine ran on peanut oil. All you need is a plant with an oil-based seed (algae works too). That would include many of our native plants here in the prairie region. A recent NSF funded study from the U of Minnesota shows that mixed prairie grasses produce more biomass in a way that is more environmentally sound than corn or soybeans. That seems a no-brainer to me; I’ve always gotten charged up by a nice stand of mixed prairie grasses, especially when there’s Switchgrass involved.

In several places, biofuels are becoming more common, and not at the slow pace evident in the U.S. It’s pretty amazing that in Brazil, 1 million cars were running on diesel fuel made from sugar cane last year. Many others are “flex fuel cars” that can take bio-ethanol or regular gasoline or a combination of the two. The FAO predicts that in the next 15 to 20 years, biofuels will be providing a full 25% of the world’s energy needs.

But me and my cat pals we still have questions.

Is there enough room to grow all these biofuel sources – palm oil, rapeseed or canola, sugar cane, grasses, corn, and more? Don’t get me wrong, this sounds better than more oil drilling in Alaska or the Gulf of Mexico, mountain top coal mining, and those natural gas fields slowly choking antelope migration pathways out west. But even though I’m told biodiesel can be made by almost anyone, production will not likely remain local but will be industrialized.

I wonder what kind of stress growing lots of biofuel crops will put on land and space? What about water resources – will you build more dams, irrigate more land? What about pesticide use? Will it increase? What happens when residue from a pesticide used to grow a crop is burned as fuel? I guess it depends on the pesticide. Already big companies are paying money to big universities and others to research bioengineering crops for fuel. What does that mean? It is too much for a young cat to get his brain around. And then I have to worry about having my name on the product…

Biofuel sounds like a great idea and one that humans have a good start on, but, again, we cats have questions. Market economics and innovation aside – is there some comprehensive planning going on? Does Al Gore have a handle on this? Al??? (As an aside, this cat has a great deal of respect for Al, and, I think we look a bit alike. I mean, I wouldn’t mind taking a walk though a prairie on the man’s shoulders while discussing the environment.)

On the one paw: multiple competing crop options, genetic engineering of plants for biofuel, conversion of lands for biofuel, manipulation of water, pesticide use; on another paw: less oil drilling and petroleum burning; on a third paw: wind energy, solar energy alternatives, phase out of incandescent bulbs, geo-thermal, and hybrid engines. Will you humans balance these options and adapt how they get used? Will you keep an eye on the downsides to the elements of the cure?

And, in the end (the fourth paw), isn’t the cure just using less…fuel, electricity, plastic, cotton, water, paper…?

In the meantime, cats across the world have been there at your side for centuries, adding a little body heat, helping to keep you humans warm. Here at home, bio-Diesel takes on a whole new meaning.

Please share your thoughts if you’d like. There’s a little comment button just below each blog. Or just check out some of the links in my ‘Places to go' bar at the right.

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

Spring Snow Melt = Flood!

MRRRRRRRRRR,

Welcome to the watery world of Wisconsin.

Did I mention Spring in my last post? The thermometer cracked 60 degrees today and look what that does to lots of snow.

This morning we had half our bottomland submerged.

By afternoon, the transformation was complete.
Look familiar? Check my blog from yesterday.

Moles have the toughest time with this kind of event, I would think. They don't hibernate however, so should be on the alert for a flood event, and there seems to be scientific evidence that they are good swimmers in shallow water. That made Kelley and me feel better after we saw one of the little guys scurry out of one "island" hole and down into another. Hours later the island was gone.


Here's a look downstream. The Narrows Creek that my people's "land" borders on, meets up with the Baraboo River just 100 twisty yards into the distance here.

Monday, March 12, 2007

Snowcat?


Mrrrr,

Wisconsin winters can be tough on a cat. Over time a subset of us have evolved dense fur, a sturdy build, and some of the other physiological features that allow us to enjoy a good, deep snow. You also need to love the challenge of it: falling into snow pits, getting stuck in human leg holes, getting cold paws. I can't think of a better way to start a snowy winter day than by hanging on the back door caterwauling and threatening to run all four sets of nails down that length of lovely oak if I don't get to go out.

"Out" in our house means going out with one of our humans. We walk with them, generally stay within yelling distance, and usually respond to their voices...unless they panic, then we hide and watch them sweat. Kelley and I go snow-walking together. This year we had a good 2 to 3 feet of snow in south-central Wisconsin where we currently live.

My primary purpose in going outside is to explore my territory and meet, through smell, the other critters who share it. As you can see here my current backyard is great, especially in the snow when Kelley and I can see the tracks of the many animals that forage in the winter. This winter I've been obsessed by Black Cat and Marmota monax.

Black Cat seems to be what we cats call a wanderer. Humans would call her homeless. She often uses our garage to sleep at night, but the snow has revealed how efficiently she uses our entire yard to hunt for small rodents and other tasty treats.

Marmot is another matter all together. Marmot - what folks in these parts call a Groundhog, Woodchuck, or Whistle Pig - is actually a big rodent about the size of me, or larger. Our human neighbor and my people have known about her for some time as she has been known to live under our garage in a grand hole/tunnel that Kelley will not let me enter. Anyway, we were surprised to find Marmot tracks leading across the snow, down the driveway, and into the garage three days (around 28 Febrary on the human calendar) after the big snow. It was a sign of spring amidst the glories of a snowy cold winter.

Sure enough, days after seeing Marmots tracks, box elder bugs started migrating from the house basement upstairs to head outdoors, then we saw a Turkey Vulture soaring and heard Sandhill Cranes. Now you can't go outside without hearing the owlish cooing of Mourning Doves. Spring is here!

P.S. You too can become a marmoteer like Kelley and me. Go to the site in my links bar to check out the Marmot Burrow website, written by a human UCLA scientist, and learn about all 14 species of my furry colleagues.

Friday, March 9, 2007

Welcome Friends

Mrrrrr,
Welcome to my blog. With the help of my people, Kelley and Stephen, I hope to keep you informed about our lives. In particular, we hope to share with you some of the issues I stumble across in the day-to-day. Tracks in the snow, smells in the house, proper uses of the "en" and "em" dash, what cats do when their cat suits get worn out, environmental change, good cars, birds big and small, life with a large-format camera, and quiet vacumn cleaner options - these are just some of the issues we'll cover here.
Cheers!