naturalist – Pain In The Bud

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

Montana Gov. Greg Gianforte has to go.

The so-called “avid hunter,” who once boasted of serving “mountain lion teriyaki, antelope chops wrapped in bacon, and elk tenderloin” to investment bankers visiting his home, apparently wanted to kill another puma so badly that he put the word out to fellow hunters.

On Dec. 28, one of those hunters caught sight of one of the large and elusive felids just a few miles outside of a protected area near Yellowstone. The hunter unleashed his hounds on the cat, who escaped up into a tree, and kept the dogs there for hours to prevent the puma from escaping while the Mighty Hunter Gianforte drove hours to the location, got out of his car and bravely shot the terrified animal at point blank range.

What Gianforte did was not hunting, according to retired physician, naturalist and outdoorsman E. Donnal Thomas Jr., a Montanan who is well known for writing about hunting and outdoor sports.

Driving to a place where quarry has already been trapped and shooting it is “the difference between a hunter and shooter,” Thomas told the Yellowstone Mountain Journal. “He didn’t hunt the lion and he didn’t have to hike for six hours to reach it. It sounds as if all he did was walk to the bottom of the tree, pull the trigger and kill it.”

Mountain lion in a tree — A mountain lion, also known as a puma and cougar, in a tree in Montana’s Little Belt Mountains. Credit: Forest Service Northern Region/Wikimedia Commons

The governor may have broken the law, and certainly violated ethical guidelines, by refusing to say anything about the “hunt” and having his press office ignore phone calls, emails and public records requests by journalists. That’s primarily the reason the story is breaking now, more than two months later: Journalists were finally able to track down people with firsthand knowledge of Gianforte’s “hunt” and corroborate the details with other people who were in the know.

Gianforte has had his share of hunting incidents in the past, including two incidents in which he broke the law, once for hunting an elk without a permit, and once for killing a wolf that was radio collared and actively tracked by scientists. (He was let off with a warning.)

In that incident, Gianforte killed the wolf after it ventured out of protected lands, as he did with the mountain lion, who was also wearing a tracking collar. The cat turned out to be a five-year-old male who was monitored by staff at Yellowstone park.

If you’re wondering why Gianforte’s name sounds familiar, it’s probably because he famously assaulted and body-slammed a Guardian reporter who made the mistake of doing his job and asking Gianforte — who was a congressional candidate at the time — about his healthcare policies.

“At that point, Gianforte grabbed Jacobs by the neck with both hands and slammed him into the ground behind him,” wrote Fox News reporter Alicia Acuna, who witnessed the assault. “Faith [Mangan, field producer], Keith [Railey, photographer] and I watched in disbelief as Gianforte then began punching the reporter. As Gianforte moved on top of Jacobs, he began yelling something to the effect of, ‘I’m sick and tired of this!'”

In an audio recording of the assault, an angry Gianforte screams “Get the hell out of here!” while the shocked reporter responds, “You just body-slammed me and broke my glasses!”

Hunting mountain lions should not be legal. There is no such thing as “too many mountain lions,” even by arbitrary federal standards, as the animals are rare, elusive, not hostile to humans and rarely harm people unless cornered or their cubs have been threatened. There have been between 15 and two dozen fatal encounters with mountain lions in the last century. By contrast, dogs kill an estimated 25,000 people a year.

While we refrain from discussing politics or ideology on PITB, primarily because we want all readers to feel comfortable as regulars on the site and we believe politics shouldn’t poison everything, we agree with writer Abigail Weinberg’s assessment:

“Puma. Cougar. Mountain lion. There are many names for the big cats that roam the Americas, rarely attacking humans.

But there’s only one name that springs to mind for Montana Gov. Greg Gianforte: Asshole.”

Montana, you can do better.

All images from Wikimedia Commons.