Amazing Cats: Pallas Cats Are The Grumpy Little Hobbits Of The Feline World

The fact that they live in burrows and crevices is the first indication that Pallas cats are the weirdos of the feline family.

The small, bushy little creatures greet the day by poking their heads out of their burrows just enough to see what’s going on. Thanks to the low profile of their ears, which stick out almost horizontally, only their eyes and tufts of frosty-looking fur are visible in those first moments.

When they’re satisfied nothing’s going to vex them further than their usual, seemingly perpetually-annoyed default, they fully emerge from their dens, and that’s when their true form becomes apparent.

Behold grumpiness incarnate:

“These kittens today, they want everything now. No patience and not a lick of common sense between ’em. Hey! Get off my lawn, you little cretins…” Credit: Wikimedia Commons

“Would it kill these dogs to clean up after themselves? Sheesh! You don’t see me defecating all over everything. When nature calls, I do what civilized cats do, find a private spot and bury my business. Hey! Hey! Don’t you dare move that rock!”

These little guys look like they start every day off getting rained on while birds with impeccable aim empty their bowls on their heads. Then they file out, each one grumbling, and engage in their species’ favorite pastime — complaining about everything, like a perpetual Airing of Grievances on Festivus or a communal bitching session about joint pain at the local senior center.

“Oh, my back! For crying out loud! They couldn’t have dug this tunnel at a more forgiving angle? Aww crap, look at the weather! Hunting in this is gonna suck. Lenny, is there any more of the rabbit from last night? No? Of course not. And we’re out of coffee again! I don’t know why I even roll out of the burrow. This place is a dump!”

First observed and written about — in the western world, at least — by Peter Simon Pallas in 1776, Pallas cats are about the same size as our domestic feline buddies, but they look stockier thanks to their heavy coats. Pallas, a Prussian explorer and naturalist, was presumably going about his day when he heard a group of these malcontents complaining from a mile or two away.

“Whatchu lookin’ at?” Credit: Wikimedia Commons

Jokes aside, Pallas cats only look angry to us because we anthropomorphize them. Difficult as it is to believe with their convincing scowls, there’s no evidence to suggest they’re actually grumpy.

The fact that they sometimes co-occupy burrows means they have a cooperative and social component to their behavior that many cat species lack. You won’t find tigers cooperatively hunting, napping in communal burrows or padding out together to greet the crepuscular morning, but that’s what Pallas cats do. That’s a pretty good indication of a sunnier disposition than their trademark scowls indicate.

Here’s a remarkably clear and close video showing a Pallas cat mom poking her head out from a burrow and making sure the coast is clear before emerging with her four cubs close behind her:

Spread throughout mainland Asia, and concentrated most heavily in Mongolia, Kyrgyzstan, Bhutan and parts of China, individual Pallas cats move between different burrows and crevices depending on the need for cover and the season. They’re found on the vast plains of Mongolia, as well as in mountains like the Himalayas and the Altai range.

They usually top out at about 10 pounds and primarily hunt rodents, pikas, shrews and other small, ground- and underground-dwelling prey, but like most cats they’re adept ambush hunters and take opportunities where they find them.

Happily, and owing partly to their remote habitats, Pallas cats are one of the few wild species that are not listed as threatened or endangered on the IUCN Red List.

Header image credit: Wikimedia Commons