Bob-O-Lynx

Have I ever told you about the Lynx?  Well, maybe I did.  I've slept a lot since then, and eaten A LOT of Peanuts.  Anyway, a few years ago, the goatmother heard our resident murder of crows raising holy hay.  Louder even than normal.  No, the goatmother did not murder the crows.  That is really what you call a group of crows.  Really.  Would I lie to you?  Anyway, the goatmother heard the great cacophonous disturbance and looked out just in time to see a VERY large cinnamon-colored cat running into the yard with the crows hot in pursuit.  In the days that followed, the mysterious interloper was seen dashing down the road and into the woods.  Even the mulch delivery man saw him.  Now the odd part about this was that the wildlife oracles all insist there are no Lynx on the Olympic Peninsula - only Bobcats.  Hmmm.

Despite what the oracles say, this cat was much larger than a Bobcat, had huge feet, really long legs, no spots, and most importantly, no white.  And to make even more of a point, the goatmother saw a true Bobcat walking on the road in front of the house the very day after.  The Bobcat was much smaller, had spots and had white under the tail.   Hmmmmm.  So the goatmother did a little research and found that Lynx are present in the Cascade Mountains and it is not unknown for them to cross with Bobcats.  The goatneighbor knows of a man who once tracked a Mountain Lion, that had been released, 75 miles in just one day.  The Cascade Mountains aren't that far, so I don't believe it would be any real stretch of the imagination to believe there might actually be a few Lynx in the Olympic Mountains.  Hmmmmm.

At any rate, that was then.  The goatneighbor came over yesterday with his John Deere tractor. (Yes, Kelly, his John Deere actually stays running.)  He came to put wood shavings into our got pen in preparation for the upcoming repeat La Nina. I mean, let's face it, if you put anything the size of Boo on wet ground, you are going to get mud pretty soon.  Prevention.  That's the ticket!  Anyway, when he was finished, he told the goatmother and the goatfather that he had seen the Lynx around the bend in the road on his way over.  Hmmmm.

So this morning the goatmother began dutifully spreading the wood shavings about.  Of course Ella was all about helping.  Naturally the goatmother needed help pushing the wheelbarrow, and of course those handles were slick and needed some teeth-mark grips, and well, there were roots in the shavings that needed to be removed by someone.  The rest of us set about our normal routine.  Boo and I wandered off to the 'brushy' part of the pasture.  Then Boo began to snort.  She was looking off down into the woods.  I became alarmed, though I didn't really see anything.  Then Cabra heard all the snorting, became alarmed and started barking.  The goatmother looked, but she didn't see anything either, so she continued her task of trying to convince Ella she didn't really need any help, but thank you very much.  After the goatmother finished, she went into the shop to talk to the  goatfather and noticed Ella had begun to snort, too, likewise looking off down into the woods.  So the goatmother walked up to the fence and that is when she saw the cat.  Both froze.  Time stopped.  They stared at each other for a full minute.  The goatmother yelled for the goatfather, but of course, he didn't hear.  He was probably in the bathroom anyway.   Hmmmmm.

Now this cat was smaller than the original one the goatmother had seen a few years ago.  However, it was larger than the Bobcat she had seen, and had no white.  It was cinnamon-colored, too, but darker.  So the goatmother concluded that it must be a second generation cat - an offspring of the Lynx and the Bobcat. Hmmmm.

I suppose it doesn't matter one way or the other, but I can tell you that we will all be on alert from now on.  You just never know when one of these guys might develop a taste for Chevon.  Or duck.  Or fuzzy farm dog.  Heaven help us all should he develop a taste for Peanuts.   Mayhaps we should consider the re-establishment of the Homegoat Security Team.  Oh, well.  "Security is mostly a superstition.  It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it.  Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure.  Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing." - Helen Keller.  I vote for the daring adventure.  Especially if Peanuts are involved.