ANGORA KITTENS.
The sense which of all others is most deficient in the Cat is that of smell. In this she differs most markedly from the Dog. It is said that a piece of meat may be placed in close proximity to a Cat, but that, if it is kept covered up, she will fail to distinguish it. This want is, however, partly compensated for by an extremely delicate sense of touch, which is possessed, to a remarkable extent, by the whiskers, or vibrissæ, as well as by the general surface of the skin. These bristles, as we have already mentioned in speaking of the Tiger, are possessed to a greater or less extent by all Cats, and are simply greatly developed hairs, having enormously swollen roots, covered with a layer of muscular fibres, with which delicate nerves are connected. By means of these latter, the slightest touch on the extremity of the whiskers is instantly transmitted to the brain. These organs are of the greatest possible value to the Cat in its nocturnal campaigns. When it is deprived of the guidance afforded by light it makes its way by the sense of touch, the fine whiskers touching against every object the Cat passes, and thus acting in precisely the same manner as a blind man’s stick, though with infinitely greater sensibility. Imagine a blind man with not one stick, but a couple of dozen, of exquisite fineness, and these not held in his hand, but embedded in his skin, so that his nerves come into direct contact with them instead of having a layer of skin between, and some notion may be formed of the way in which a Cat uses its whiskers.
But the Cat in its night walks has a further advantage over the blind man, namely, that except on the very darkest nights, it is not entirely deprived of the power of sight, for, as we have already mentioned, the pupil is so constructed that in the dark it can be dilated, so as to catch every available ray of light, and, moreover, the tapetum, or brilliant lining of the eyeball, reflects and magnifies the straggling beams, and so enables the Cat, if not actually to “see in the dark,” as is sometimes stated, at least to distinguish objects in an amount of light so small as to be inappreciable to our duller vision.
As we have already mentioned, the Domestic Cat is less strictly carnivorous than the wild Felidæ: still it prefers meat or milk to anything else, and is by no means a miscellaneous feeder, like the Dog. In the matter of diet, Gilbert White remarks[50]—“There is a propensity belonging to common house Cats that is very remarkable. I mean their violent fondness for fish, which appears to be their most favourite food; and yet Nature in this instance seems to have implanted in them an appetite that, unassisted, they know not how to gratify; for, of all quadrupeds, Cats are the least disposed towards water, and will not, when they can avoid it, deign to wet a foot, much less to plunge in that element.” Mr. White does not seem to have known of the habits of the Jaguar.
A curious instance of the selection of their food by Cats and Dogs is given by the same author:—“As my neighbour was housing a rick, he observed that his Dogs devoured all the little red Mice that they could catch, but rejected the common Mice; and that his Cats ate the common Mice, refusing the red.”
This may be partly accounted for by the fact that the little Harvest Mouse has scarcely any trace of the odour which makes the domestic kind disagreeable, and which odour is not disliked, or perhaps is hardly perceived, by the Cat. Both Dogs and Cats, when the corn-ricks are being housed for threshing, will go on helping the farmer and his men for hours, killing Mice by hundreds and by thousands long after they have been satiated by eating them. These Mouse battues illustrate the intelligence of the Cat as well as of the Dog, in a quick understanding of what relates to their own interest; for they know immediately what the removal of the thatch from the rick means, and, as it were, scent their prey before it is unearthed. Yet the food-treasures in these ricks are not unknown to the Cats, who night by night for months, perhaps, have caught and regaled themselves upon stragglers from the swarm.
But although of most domestic Cats it may be said,
“Rats and Mice, and such small deer,
Have been Tom’s food for many a year,”
yet, in districts that have the game well “preserved,” this sort of diet is often exchanged for that of nobler prey, and the tame Cat will stray for months from the homesteads for young Rabbits, Leverets, and the Partridge covey. This poaching is almost sure to end in death, as these Cats are closely watched by the keepers.