CHAPTER XVI.
[See [Note O], Addenda.]
HUNTING EXPLOITS.
Catching mice is, to a proper-minded cat, a mere parlour pastime, only to be resorted to on rainy days, or of a night when too restless to sleep. It stands to pussy in the same relation that indoor croquet, billiards, or reading a book in bed does to our noble selves. Rat-catching is only just one degree better, and principally enjoyed by cats who have not reached maturity in body and intellect—cats, in fact, in their hobble-de-hoy-hood. To the matured cat,—especially if highly bred,—belong all the joys and excitement of the chase a-field. There is as much difference between the hunting of an animal of the cat-kind and that of one of the canine order, as there is between the skilled tactics of German warfare, and the wild rush to battle of Arab cavalry. There is more honesty in the one, more craft and cunning in the other. A dog is singularly destitute in what is called in Scotland, “canniness.” He also wants patience; but the cat, armed with this gift, combined with cunning, and skill gained from experience, is master for anything in the field which she considers game and chooses to square her moustache at. Even to a human being, stalking one’s prey is infinitely more engrossing than the mere hunting of it. The latter is pleasing, certainly, but the former is charming. Pussy prefers the charming, while our friend the dog merely runs down his prey, and takes little pains to show skill even in that.
Leaving rats and mice along with blue-bottle flies, in the category of mere kitten’s play, pussy’s game-list includes hares, rabbits, stoats, weasels, water-rats, and moles, besides everything that flies or has feathers, from the humble household sparrow to the black-cock of the mountain. Not before a cat reaches maturity—viz., three years of age—does the propensity for out-door hunting become a passion with her; but once imbued with it, the desire never leaves her as long as she can run.
Pirnie is a little female pussy, belonging to a labouring man. At the time I write, she is over twenty years old; but hale and hearty, and as playful as a kitten. She is a perfect adept at catching all sorts of vermin, but more particularly goes in for mole-catching. When she spies a mole-hill, she at once sets herself down to watch it; nor will she raise the siege for hours, until the little gentleman in velvet gives signs of his presence by casting up a few grains of earth. Then is pussy’s opportunity. She springs nimbly on the bank, and plunges her arms up to the shoulders into the earth, and never fails to bring poor molie to bank; and the daylight has hardly had time to dazzle his eyes before he is dead.
Last year Pirnie—being then nineteen years of age—had a thrilling adventure with a large hare. The hare, which was at least double the size of pussy, had been enjoying a quiet nap during the heat of the day, in a field not far from the house, when Pirnie stumbled across its trail, and on following it up the battle ensued. “The hare,” says my informant, “fought with great vigour, and often floored her antagonist; but Pirnie sent in her claws and teeth, till blood flew like rain, and fur like drift (driven snow); and the hare soon becoming exhausted, Pirnie seized it by the throat, and its plaintive screams were presently hushed in death.”
Graysie was a tom-cat, and rather famous for his hunting exploits. One day, Graysie, being on the war-path, encountered a very large weasel, and it was at once mutually agreed to try conclusions in a fair stand-up fight. The battle was witnessed by Graysie’s owners, and lasted the greater part of the afternoon, and ended triumphantly for pussy, in the defeat and death of the weasel. When Graysie found out that his fallen foe was indeed dead, he took it up in his teeth, and carrying it home, deposited it on the front-door steps, intending it no doubt as a present for his mistress, as well as a trophy of his own prowess.
A cat never springs on her prey unless sure of catching it, and her aim is most unerring. I know a cat that killed over a score of large rats in one day, and on one of these she sprang from a height of no less than twelve feet.