Cat Trails

This was the last class of the year that we visited the south location, and we arrived to drama. A cougar had killed a calf, the rancher received a depredation permit, and the rancher killed a cougar. The cat was a large male, very much like the one we’d been tracking at Old Woman Creek.

So one of our goals was to visit the cougar scrape area on Old Woman Creek and look for fresh sign, in the hope that the killed cat was not the big male resident of Old Woman Creek. Another goal for the morning was to determine what route the cougars were taking to get from Butano park to Cloverdale.

We split into three groups: Old Woman Creek investigators, ridgewalkers, and creekwalkers. The Old Woman Creek group took a trail camera and headed for the well-known cougar zone. The ridgewalkers took a high route from the road at Cloverdale’s Gate 2 up toward the ridgetops of Butano. And the creekwalkers, consisting of myself and one other Native Eyeser, Will, looked for a low route through the riparian zone up to the Butano ridgetops.

The creek we found to be impenetrable right off the road, so we paralleled it up the grassy hillside. We walked through hip-high wild oats, pressed down everywhere with deer lays, thick with deer scat and ticks. Along the way we passed the old schoolhouse, now sunk into the earth. We saw many snakes and birds, and countless signs of deer, but nothing catlike.



We tried repeatedly to push into the riparian zone but were blocked everywhere by poison oak and walls of brambles. The sounds of sharp footfalls in the brush, the odd snapped twigs, and intermittent breathy snorts moved up the creek a little ahead: the sounds of deer watching our progress. They, evidently, had a way through.

Finally we came to an open area, a light green willow cavern by the creek. The ground was entirely covered in short blackberry vines. Deer droppings and tracks were scattered everywhere. The peace of the place, a feeling of a shelter and haven, crept from the earth into our bones and we paused silent for a while, letting ourselves settle into the space. Will commented that he would like to make this place his sit spot, and I agreed. Then I said, “No cat energy here.” “None whatsoever,” he agreed. We continued up the hillside looking for the cougar’s path.





Over the sun-beaten ridge, through coyotebrush and wildflowers, and we came to the edge of a stand of Douglas fir trees. There was a low passage through the brambles and poison oak, and we could see clear duff and tree trunks on the other side. We ditched our stuff and dove through.



On the other side, the world was dark, still and cool. I crouched under the low branches and took a minute to let my eyes adjust. This space was entirely different from the deer haven. As I sat and stared into the twilit understory, I felt a tense crackle of energy up my spine. This place definitely had cat energy. And when we moved past the edge, we immediately found a large and old scrape in the duff. And another. And another.





We were briefly distracted by a rubber boa, lying fat and docile over the duff.



We moved upslope to more mature trees, and found more sign. This area allowed for more air movement, and for us to walk upright, but it was still dark and surrounded by shadows.





We continued along the edge of mature trees and soon found a subtle, soft trail. The trail looked different from any deer trail I’ve seen – deer used it from time to time, but I don’t think they were it’s primary creators. The trail seemed to be the result of years of soft, round, padded feed pacing along it. As we set foot on the trail, the hairs on my neck stood up. I felt the presence of a predator, even if only in the trail he left behind.






The further we went on the trail, the more scrapes we found. Many had scats in them, smallish furry lacquered looking tubes, less than 3/4 inch in diameter. We followed the trail through the young trees again, stooping low and winding through the thick shadow. I kept wondering if a soft-padded carnivore was watching us from the shadows beyond our vision.







We finally popped out of the young firs and into the grasses again, dazzled by the sun and immediately parched by the heat. We were thirty minutes late, and had to race back to our meeting point.