Asia – Pain In The Bud

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

The Gremlin-like felids have some unusual habits compared to other cats in addition to the trademark scowls that distinguish them from other feline species.

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

Proof they don’t scowl in *every* photo. Credit: Wikimedia Commons

Previously:

Amazing Cats: The Mysterious Marbled Cat
Amazing Cats: The Rusty-Spotted Cat
Amazing Cats: ‘He Who Kills With One Bound’
Amazing Cats: The Puma

Amazing Cats: The Sunda Clouded Leopard

Amazing Cats: The Adorable Colocolo, Feline of the Pampas

Amazing Cats: The ‘Fire Tiger’ Is The Stuff Of Legend

Amazing Cats: Ocelots Love Trees, Water And Calvin Klein’s Obsession For Men

Wordy Wednesday: Visiting Japan’s Snow Monkeys

Meet the Japanese macaques, also known as snow monkeys, living in an enclosure on the side of Mt. Takao, about an hour from Tokyo.

A note on this series: Although I published some of these photos earlier, the majority have been recovered from an old drive that took a circuitous route of more than five years, three continents and four countries to get back to me. I plan to run them in themed segments on Wednesdays this summer, including Tokyo nightlife, shrines, cityscapes and more. This week’s photos are from the snow monkey exhibit at Mt. Takao.

Japanese macaques are the northernmost-dwelling of any non-human primate species.

They’re built for the cold, with heavier coats than their cousins, the rhesus, long-tailed and bonnet macaques. They also sleep in well-organized groups, rotating so each monkey gets time in the center to soak up body heat, and they’re famous for keeping warm in northern Japan’s hot springs.

But as these photos show, snow monkeys are also adaptable, and they make the best of things during the hot, humid summers at Mt. Takao, about 51 km (30 miles) from Tokyo.

These photos were taken on a hot day in June when I was one of only a handful of visitors.

Welcome to Mount Takao! So you want to see snow monkeys?

“The milk bar’s open!” Snow monkeys, aka Japanese macaques, are extremely attentive mothers. This baby is is about 8 to 10 weeks old and completely dependent on mom.

“I’ve had my fill of milk, now it’s time to explore!”

“But mom won’t let me go far! I’m too young to go off on my own, and mom is really protective of me.”

A keeper at the Mt. Takao monkey enclosure. She has a hat…but not for long. Note the mischievous monkey on her shoulders, who’s waiting for just the right moment to grab her hat and run.

The monkey on the left is like: “Oh crap, here it comes!”

The keeper is staring daggers directly at me. There was a small crowd at the Mt. Takao snow monkey exhibit that day, and while the Hat Incident delighted the onlookers, the keeper was *not* amused when she saw me snapping away. I’m pretty sure she wanted to throttle me. Sorry!

Getting her hat back was not an easy task. The devious little monkey who made off with it immediately retreated into a small cave/shelter system big enough for the macaques, but too small for humans to enter. Making matters worse, there were at least four or five entrances and exits. Every time the keeper approached, the little monkey darted inside and popped up through a different hole, like a game of wack a mole. Eventually it took both keepers to retrieve the hat.

I was super close to this little lady. She was probably about two or three years old.

Macaques live in troops of up to 300 members, and their societies are matrilinear, meaning an individual monkey’s “rank” in the troop’s social hierarchy is determined by who their mother is.

Macaque troops are headed by alphas who are the strongest males and deal directly with protecting troop members, but the matriarch runs most aspects of troop life.

Here, a snow monkey mom hugs her child. The bond between moms and their kids is strong. Daughters stay with their mothers and their troops for life, while sons remain in the troop until they’re about five years old, at which time they depart to avoid inbreeding. They often go on to live as bachelors in small groups before joining or starting their own troops.

This baby is geckering. A gecker is a “loud, pulsed vocalization” usually described as a “broken, staccato noise.” People often think of it as a baby macaque throwing a temper tantrum, but it’s more than that, and it’s involuntary, meaning the babies can’t control it. In plain English, it’s a noise, accompanied by spasms and made by babies and young macaques when they’re particularly upset. Babies usually gecker when they’re separated from their mothers, being bullied by older monkeys, or in situations when they want to nurse but their moms won’t let them.

Another mom with a young nursing baby. This baby is a bit older than the one above, probably about three months old.

The first baby again. Notice how mom is grooming the baby. Grooming is an important aspect of macaque social relations, in addition to serving the practical function of clearing insects and other debris from fur.

More social grooming. The monkey on the right is attentively picking insects from the fur of the monkey on the left.

He’s big, he’s old, he’s battle-scarred. He’s the alpha, and he always gets groomed first, whenever he wants. He also eats first, enjoys the best lounging spots, and gets to mate with his choice of females. In the wild, alphas don’t retain their thrones long, often being deposed within a year or two. Extraordinary alphas who keep their troops in good stead and enjoy an aura of invincibility can last a decade or longer.

Babies nurse for as many as two years and spend almost the entire first year of their lives holding onto their moms. That’s one reason why the practice of buying baby monkeys — or any monkeys — as pets is incredibly cruel, and it’s why pet monkeys are always seen clinging to stuffed animals. They’re taken from their mothers within hours or days, and they need the tactile comfort of holding onto — and being held by — their mothers.

Harry Harlowe’s infamous experiments in the 1960s proved that the physical comfort of being held is crucial to the psychological development of all primates, humans included. If a baby is denied that, the consequences manifest as severe psychological issues later in life.

A male member of the troop. It’s not clear if this guy was brought in from another captive troop elsewhere in the country, or if he’s native to the Mt. Takao troop. If it’s the latter, at his age — about four or five years old, give or take — he’ll be expected to soon depart. Young males leave their troops to avoid inbreeding and potential violence as they become stronger and are viewed as potential rivals to the alpha and/or his lieutenants.

Adios, humans!

The Best Movies About Cats

A comedy, a remarkable documentary, a classic and a surprise hit make the list for the best cat-centric movies.

Keanu (2016): Jordan Peele stars as Rell, a man who is despondent after he’s dumped by his girlfriend. When a kitten shows up on his front step, Rell takes the little guy in and his life is suddenly transformed. He’s enamored with the kitten, whom he names Keanu, can’t stop talking about him, and even begins photographing him in dioramas based on famous films.

But tragedy strikes when drug dealers ransack Rell’s home, mistaking it for the small-time drug dealer’s home next door, and take Keanu. Rell and his cousin, Clarence (Keegan Michael-Key) embark on a quest to get Keanu back no matter what it takes, even if it means posing as a pair of contract killers to infiltrate the criminal world where Keanu’s been taken. It’s every bit as absurd as you’d imagine — but it’s also very, very funny. “Actually, we’re in the market right now for a gangsta pet,” is not a line I’d expect to hear in a movie, but in Keanu it works.

Flow is the surprise hit of the awards season.

Flow (2024): Even the hype of Golden Globe awards and Oscar nominations can’t take away from the powerful impression Flow makes. By now most of us are probably familiar with it through clips or trailers, but they don’t do justice to the beauty of director Gints Zilbalodis’ world, nor how naturally expressive his protagonist, Cat, is.

The animators put in an extraordinary amount of effort into understanding and perfectly replicating every feline behavioral quirk, every hackled coat and curiously bent tail. They accomplish the same with Cat’s companions, including a Labrador, a secretarybird, a lemur and a capybara. And while we’re dazzled by the visuals and energetic narrative, Zilbalodis poses a thematic question as the flood waters take the animals through the ruins of human civilization: without people, the world will go on. What would a world without humans look like? Cat and his companions tell us one story while the environment tells us another, and the result is greater than the sum of its parts.

Tiger: A Spy In The Jungle (2008): What makes this documentary so special is that it was filmed over three years in an Indian tiger preserve, and the filmmakers not only disguised cameras as rocks and tree stumps, they trained elephants how to carry “trunk cams,” achieving shots which no human cameraman could ever hope to get without spooking the subjects of the film.

Tigers don’t hunt elephants because they’re simply too big. Unlike lions, they’re not feeding a whole pride, and they don’t hunt cooperatively. It’s just not worth the effort required to take down the giant, majestic beasts. As a result, tigers and elephants not only tolerate each other, they mostly ignore each other’s presence.

One of the cubs stares curiously at a camera disguised as a rock in Tiger: Spy In The Jungle

That allowed the team to get unprecedented shots of an iron-willed tigress raising a litter of four cubs by herself. We see their dens, we watch the cubs play, and we witness the incredible prowess of the mother, who according to narrator David Attenborough has a remarkable 80 percent success rate while hunting. That’s pretty much unheard of.

With four young mouths to feed in addition to herself, the tigress is determined, and also supremely skilled. The whole jungle erupts in a cacophony of shrieks and alarm calls the instant a single animal gets a whiff of the tigress’ presence, but that still doesn’t stop her from achieving her goal.

Still, the odds are against all four cubs making it, with dangers like adult leopards, sickness and hunger. Through Spy In The Jungle, we get to see the entire journey, from the newborn cubs to the confident juveniles on the cusp of adulthood. There’s no better tiger documentary anywhere.

Shere Khan, right, makes an intimidating villain in The Jungle Book (2016)

The Jungle Book (2016): With so many Disney cash-grabs in the form of live-action remakes of classics that did not need to be remade, it’s easy to dismiss The Jungle Book. The thing is, this movie has heart. Neel Sethi is an earnest Mowgli, Idris Elba voices the infamous tiger Shere Khan, and to balance out the felid villainy with some heroism, Sir Ben Kingsley voices Bagheera, the noble leopard who discovers baby Mowgli in the jungle and protects him as his wolf friends raise the boy. Lupita Nyong’o as the wolf matriarch Raksha, Bill Murray as the honey-obsessed bear Baloo and Christopher Walken as orangutan King Louie round out a great cast.

The Cost Of Living With Tigers: People In Rural India Hide Indoors As Foresters Track 2 Hungry Big Cats

Tiger attacks are a real danger in rural India, where the big cats kill people and livestock. To protect the species, the government pulls off a difficult balancing act aimed at minimizing inter-species conflict.

In his memoir, Man-Eaters of Kumaon, legendary tiger hunter (and later staunch conservationist) Jim Corbett described how he and his men arrived to find a ghost town when they tracked a man-eating tiger to a rural village.

Every door was closed and locked, shutters were closed tight, and despite the fact that it was harvest time, not a single person was working the nearby fields.

The people who lived there had good reason to be petrified. The infamous Champawat tigress had killed more than 430 people by that point, including a young woman from the village just a few days earlier. Usually the tigress would vanish from an area after a kill, frustrating locals and hunters by popping up virtually anywhere in a 50-mile radius, but for some reason she stuck around the village and sat on the outskirts at night, keeping the local people awake with her calls.

Corbett’s famed hunt of the “demon of Champawat” happened in 1907, and although it might sound like a problem from the past, it’s current reality for people in parts of India, Nepal and, to a lesser extent, the sparsely populated mountain forests in eastern Russia.

In Garwha and Ranchi, two towns in eastern India about 215km (133 miles) apart, “villagers have stopped using forest routes to reach markets and are reluctant to leave their homes for work,” the Times of India reported on Monday.

That’s because hungry tigers have been on the prowl, demonstrating little fear of people as they help themselves to livestock. Between Jan. 1 and Jan. 6, the tigers killed and ate three cattle and a buffalo.

Siberian tiger — Tigers require large, contiguous tracks of land measuring in the hundreds of square miles. India and Russia have both set aside massive preserves for the apex predators to increase their numbers in the wild. Image credit: Wikimedia Commons

So far they’ve eluded camera traps, but forest rangers say they believe there are two tigers because of the distance between Garwha and Ranchi, which is almost three times the typical tiger range.

In places where big cats live in proximity to humans, especially farmers, the government pays compensation to the owners of livestock killed and eaten by the predators.

There’s also a separate, more controversial compensation program for the families of people killed by tigers. Recent court cases in the country have hinged on the cold calculations of attaching monetary value to human life, and whether families are owed compensation if their relatives knowingly entered tiger preserves.

For India, it’s part of a delicate balancing act between conserving the country’s national animal and one of nature’s most beloved species, and avoiding the ire of people who are impacted by their presence. When big cats prey on livestock, if the government does not address the situation, locals will eventually take matters into their own hands and try to kill the apex predators. That usually doesn’t work out well for either side.

On average, about 60 people are killed each year by tigers in India, according to government statistics. There’s been a sharp increase in victims in recent years, with tigers taking 110 human lives in 2022 and 83 in 2023, although it’s not yet clear why.

As for livestock, a 2018 study by wildlife biologists with the Corbett Foundation documented 8,365 reported instances of big cats killing cattle, buffalo and other animals between 2006 and 2015. That works out to about 830 per year, with tigers responsible for 570 livestock kills on average and leopards responsible for the rest.

To reduce the number of inter-species conflicts, the government of India has relocated thousands of families away from the country’s 27 tiger preserves in addition to compensating farmers for their losses.

Tiger sub — A tiger cub on a preserve in India. Credit: Wikimedia Commons

On a tangential note, this is another reason why the persistent claims of big cats stalking the British countryside strain credulity.

To paraphrase wildlife conservationist Egil Droge of the University of Oxford, when big cats live in an area, you know it because the signs are everywhere — massive and unmistakable pug marks (paw prints) on the ground, trees left with deep gauges by males marking their territory, and dung also serving as a territorial marker.

“I’ve worked with large carnivores in Africa since 2007 and it’s obvious if big cats are around. You would regularly come across prints of their paws along roads. The rasping sound of a leopard’s roar can be heard from several kilometres,” Droge wrote in a 2023 post about alleged big cat sightings in the UK.

Last but not least, big cats eat. A lot. A reliable supply of large prey animals is necessary to support even the smallest of breeding populations, and felids of all species are known to go for easy meals — in this case livestock — when the opportunity presents itself.

Still, the idea refuses to die, and there are still regular reports from people who have seen large cats and insist they’re not our domesticated friends.

Leopard in a pub — “So we left the sheep there at the edge of the field and made sure the lady saw us before we buggered off over the fence. Next day, we was in all the papers! A right laugh that was, mate.”

Tribe Discovers Ancient Three-Toed Cat’s Fossilized Footprint Deep In Forest

The strange footprint may date back as far as 35 million years ago, according to a preliminary analysis.

Before house cats, tigers and lions, before sabretooth cats and their scimitar-toothed relatives, Pseudaelurus (pseudo-cat) stalked the forests and plains of Europe, Asia and North America between eight and 20 million years ago.

Before Pseudaelurus, Proailurus — an animal whose name literally means “before cats” — stalked the Earth beginning 30 million years in the past.

Proailurus was thought to be the earliest true feliform ancestor, but now there may be evidence of a felid or feliform animal that predates both Proailurus and Pseudaelurus. Feliform is a term that encompasses cat-like creatures both extinct and extant, from familiar felines to civets and mongoose.

Deep in South India’s Nallamala Forest, near one of the country’s largest tiger reserves, members of the aboriginal Chenchu tribe found a fossil that could put the cat lineage back even further.

The fossil is well-preserved and clearly defined, made by an animal whose paw was about the size of an adult man’s hand. It bears a striking resemblance to tiger pug marks, but perhaps the most striking feature is its three toes.

Feliform fossil — The recently discovered fossil. Credit: Times of India

“Based on the distinctive characteristics of the sandstone, identified as the Cuddapah subgroup Quartzitic sandstone, the estimated rock’s age is approximately 35 million years,” archaeologist Arun Vasireddy told the Times of India. “It was around this time that sandstones were formed and it is likely that the animal would have cast its prints.”

Biologists have had to reshuffle their picture of felid lineage many times over the past century and a half as new discoveries uncover previously unknown species of cats and cat-like creatures. Since they first appeared, cats have taken hundreds of different forms with significant variations in size, appearance, hunting methods and preferred terrain.

The experts aren’t popping the champagne yet. There’s a lot more work to do before they can declare a newly-discovered species or even offer more than educated guesses about its niche and appearance.

Nallamala Forest may yet hold more secrets, and research teams will look for additional prints as well as potential remains. It’s a process that will unfold over years and decades, perhaps even longer.

Still, it’s a tantalizing clue about the past and the origin of some of Earth’s most iconic animals.

In the meantime, Vasireddy said, “nothing can be said clearly until further research.”