If you have watched house cats, you have seen bobcats. Obviously, they are not the same species. Adult bobcats are larger, with males weighing fifteen to forty pounds, females somewhat smaller, coats spotted, six-inch tails, pointed ears with black tufts, and hair in a whiskery ruff around the cheeks. But bobcat kittens, with their round blue eyes, have the same manic innocence as domestic kittens. Young bobcats play together like your cats, ballerina movements, chest and paws raised in slow-motion—and then the race begins. Bobcats also purr with that grumbling seduction, drilling into maternal instinct. Like your cat, a sleeping bobcat becomes the Buddha. Like with many house cats, too, the eyes of adult bobcats are no longer blue but glow-in-the-dark yellow.
As nocturnal hunters, bobcats are not commonly seen. But you can be sure of their presence, slipping past your house, walking the trail you are on. Look for a round feline print between 1½ to 2½ inches long, four oval toes, and a large pad with two lobes at the top and three at the bottom. Claws do not usually register. In the negative space between toes and pad, you could trace an upside-down C.
Bobcats are often described as solitary animals. “Bobcats spend most of their lives alone,” reads a major textbook. Wikipedia dutifully repeats, “Like most felines, the bobcat is largely solitary.” But really that’s the patriarchal perspective, taking the male’s experience as the norm. The female is a dedicated single parent, staying in the den the first days after birth, eating the placenta, feces, and any stillborns. Litters average three kittens. Each claims an exclusive nipple, which may reduce sibling rivalry. Each kneads her belly to induce milk.
If you have seen housecats, you know this mother’s look of unthinking love and all the constant acts of love: feeding, nuzzling, cleaning, calling, soothing. Within a few weeks, the kittens open their eyes and start engaging with the world like pop-up restaurants. She watches sleepy-eyed as all three tumble out of the den, bat at the air, fall over. She will nurse them for about two months, leaving them alone to play and not wander while she goes hunting. A few weeks later, if they are still alive – if they haven’t wandered – they start to accompany her. If there isn’t enough food, they will starve. If a male bobcat or other predator attacks, she will defend them. Or she might make the decision to run away.
At nine months, the juveniles start hunting on their own. Sometimes they leave decisively to find new territory. Sometimes they linger for another year. When they are finally dispersed, the female breeds again. In sixty days, she has kittens again.
Solitary. I don’t think so.
Sharman Apt Russell is a longtime nature writer. This short piece has been adapted from her What Walks This Way: Discovering the Wildlife Around Us Through Their Tracks and Signs (Columbia University Press, 2024). For more information, go to www.sharmanaptrussell.com
