The Prince George's enquirer and southern Maryland advertiser. (Upper Marlborough, Md.) 1882-1925, 1910-01-14
0luck and
Il Adventure
MONGRELs AFTER BOB CATS.

MONGRELS AFTER BOB CATS.
The Coast Range country, a few
miles from the famous Lick Obser,
vatory, on Mt. Hamilton, is a perfect
paradise for such animals as cats
coyotes, coons and lynx, being for the
most part thickly covered with scrut
oak, chaparral, manzanita and the
so-called poison oak bush. Six OF
seven years ago, the coyotes and BOZ
cats were making serious depreda.
tions on the ranehers' poultry, and an
occasional calf or young pig was
missed as we'll. We tried every means
to rid the valley of the "varmint,' u
but would have had but little sue
cess had it not been for the dogs. On
one of the large ranches there was a
pack of about twenty hounds, most
of them thoroughbred fox hounds
the rest blood and fox hound mixed
but during the four years they were
kept I know of only one coyote they
ran down in fair, open chase. For
cats and lynx they were worse than
useless.
On our ranch we had only two dogs,
both mongrels, but past masters OF
the art of cat hunting. Bling" was
large, ungainly dog, but as full OF
endurance and fight as a bulldog
Jack was smaller and combination
of terrier, hound and bulldog, but
had a nose that could follow day
old trail through dry stubble and over
searched rocks in a way that made
that thoroughbred pack ashamed of
their name. My record in one winter
with the two dogs was twenty-three
cats and fourteen coons killed. beside
which were several which the dogs
treed and I failed to get.
Although I had never known cat
to attack man, they are not at all
bashful when cornered and have more
fight and "cussedness" in them, pound
for pound, than any animal 1 know.
One afternoon I saddled my pony to
go out and herd in the work horses,
AS 1 was riding through the feed cor
raj the pony SHE'D from little clump
of sage brush and began to snort and
back away, and out from behind the
sage stalked a big bob cat carrying
our white rooster in his mouth. In
stead of making off with his prey, or
taking to tree, he laid the chicken
down and stood in the trail shaking
his head defiantly. AS 1 had no gun
I whistled for the dogs. They came
in hurry; but one, bird dog be-
longing to a neighbor, was afraid OF
the cat after the first rush, in which
he got forepaw badly bitten; so old
Bing sailed in single handed. He was
looking for throat grip and the cat
on his back was scratching and rip
ping with all four sets of claws and
his jaws clicking like steel trap.
Neither was wasting breath, and the
only sound was an occasional yelp OF
pain and rage from the dog or muf-
fed growl from the cat. Finally,
they clinched; Bing with his teeth in
the cats ribs just back Of the fore
leg and the cat ripping up the dog S
f1anks with those terrible, sharp hind
claws.
1 was getting interested by this
time, so got off the horse and tried
to use my heavy loaded quirt, but
they were making about seventy revo-
lutions per minute, and l was more
apt to hit Bing than the cat. Finally
I succeeded in prying sharp picket
out of the corral fence, and with one
jab broke the cats back. This put
his hind legs out of commission, and
Bing soon finished the game by break
ing his neck.
On another occasion 1 was hunt
ing stray cattle in a deep, bushy can
yon, when I came onto an old female
and two little kittens. The kittens
hustled up little laurel tree and the
old cat circled round and round in
the brush. Both my hunting dogs
were with me, but as I wanted to cap
ture the kittens alive l called them
off the old cats trail and told them
to watch the laurel bush that held the
two kittens. I hurried down to the
ranch house, got my shotgun and a
lot of grain sacks, and told one Of the
boys to come along and help me.
When we reached the canyon it was
nearly dark, but the dogs still had
the kittens treed. 1 wrapped my arms
in sacks and went after the kittens,
but in spite of sacks and gauntlets
can still show several long white
scars on my wrists that testify to the
gameness of those six-weeks-old kit
tens. We kept them at the ranch
that summer and one eventually
found its way to the Chutes in San
Francisco. The other remained to
the last a savage, untamable beast
of prey and finally had to be shot
because he killed every chicken that
came within the length of his chain.
B. w. Adams, in Forest and
Ctrnon