Opinion - Columns - Kathe Tanner

Published: Thursday, Jun. 11, 2009

Hunter's reach exceeds grasp

... but what happens if you catch it?

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It was the age-old byplay with a twist. The mighty hunter scrunched down and stalked his prey from a proper distance back. The potential victim either hadn’t spotted the huntsman or was determined to ignore him.

No, not the latest segment of “Law and Order,” or a KCET video of an African safari.

This cockeyed-optimist predator in our back yard was a small black-and-white cat, maybe 5 pounds in weight.

Sleek, yes. Fast, undoubtedly. Smart? Debatable.

The stealthy feline was tracking a very big, wild tom turkey … for hours.

I now know what happened to Wily Coyote. He’s been reincarnated as a cat.

Don’t get me wrong. I really do believe in setting your sights high and aiming for the rainbow. But an ant that contemplates the Empire State Building better have splendid timing, the climbing skills of a Sherpa, the guarantee of a long lifespan and no encounters with big feet.

I giggled as the feline stalked Big Bird. I wondered, “Silly cat, just what do you think you’re going to do with that turkey if you catch it?”

Later, neighbor Howard Vallens told us he has a video of the cat chasing two turkeys.

After a while, the birds decided they’d had enough and tried to gently chase the kitty away. It was rather like the crabby action a big brother would take to shoo away a much younger sibling, not really wanting to hurt the toddler’s feelings but really, really not wanting to play with him any more.

At least four neighborhood felines consider our sloping meadow to be their own extended hunting field. Big Guy and Little Guy are the black-and-whites that bunk with the Cullens. The Vallens family’s semi-feral, gray tiger-stripe is nicknamed Gunny (for the character Gunnery Sgt. Victor Galindez on the TV show “JAG.”). And there’s a big black cat I haven’t figured out yet.

The cats are wonderful to watch, especially in conjunction with all the wildlife.

For instance, this morning I spotted Big Guy in our side garden, skulking among our rock collection. He was clearly on the hunt, intently watching birds, then butterflies, then field mice.

“Hey, Big Guy,” I said softly. “Why don’t you catch some of our gophers, or are they too big and mean to tackle? Make yourself useful.”

All of a sudden, one kitty front paw shot out to the ground and the other slapped on top of it. The cat froze in that position for a millisecond, and then repeated the moves a few inches away.

This went on for maybe 10 minutes, with the flexible feline occasionally spinning around and dashing from one end of the slick, black anti-weed drop-cloth to the other.

It was like watching kitty-cat ice hockey. I have no idea if he ever caught whatever it was he was harassing. Another time, Gunny was stalking the deer that regularly visit our meadow. The cat is feral-wily-wary, and darts away as soon as he catches you even looking at him. Unless you call out his name. Then he’ll meow back before he darts.

This time, Gunny was torn between two dining does munching on daisies about 25 feet apart. He’d stalk one deer for a moment, then turn on a dime and switch prey, only to reverse his direction again.

Poor kitty had an embarrassment of riches and a massive case of indecision. To save him the embarrassment of a swift hoof-kick to the head, I called his name.

If he’d done that full flip on a diving board or a gymnastics floor mat, he’d have gotten a perfect score. Instead, he glared at me and stomped off toward Pineridge Drive and home.

The Tanners used to have cats and dogs. In fact, husband Richard and I met through our Shetland sheepdogs. But since then, he’s developed severe allergies to cat dander and fur, and my chaotic journalistic schedule makes dog ownership unfair to the dog.

Of course, we miss having pets. So for now, our adopted, extended kitty family is a good substitute. We have the cartoon fun of cat ownership without the Fancy Feast and the litter box.

Let the hunt begin!