The raging debate over feral cats

Ithaca 37

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Revered and reviled, pampered and persecuted, the domestic cat, Felis catus, has stirred up passionate sentiment since it first came to live among humans 4,000 years ago. Though it may no longer be worshipped as a god or burned as a demon, the cat continues to evoke feelings ranging from adoration to hatred. The hunting prowess that made it so valuable to farmers and sailors has landed it on the most-wanted list of some wildlife advocates who blame the world's most widespread predator for accelerating the demise of imperiled species from tiny beach mice to the majestic Florida panther........

http://www.enn.com/news/2003-12-12/s_9202.asp

Actually, I like cats. Never had any problem with cats and have nothing against them at all. For one thing; they're a lot less trouble than a dog. But the feral cat problem is terrible and, unfortunately, we'd all be better off if they were all wiped out. People who dump their kittens out in the wild are really despicable. That's who should really be wiped out.
 
If I'm out and about and it doesn't have a collar it make take a long nap! I've seen citation of reports that state in CA that feral cats take more small game and birds than hunters!!!!
 
LOL @ Marland! I have never liked cats. My girlfriend's damn cats get on the hood of my truck every time I go over there and it's just covered with muddy cat tracks.
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I say kill 'em all.
 
W H,

"I say kill 'em all."

Kill who? The girlfriend, the cats, or both?

You guys are starting to sound like a bunch of neanderthals!

Paul
 
oh geez, whitetail hunter, I can't believe that! Here's a quote from that website:

"Healthy cats that can't be tamed are released in the wild and cared for by SAFER volunteers."

Idiots!
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Iv'e not smoked any cats, but have killed seven dogs that wern't in their own space...
But wouldn't have an issue with sticking a cat...
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Feral cats make great food for mountain lions and bobcats, and if you just wound them abit, it keeps the meat fresh until the bigger kitty finds it, and slows them down enough so that they are more easily caught.
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<BLOCKQUOTE>quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Ten Bears:
Feral cats make great food for mountain lions and bobcats, and if you just wound them abit, it keeps the meat fresh until the bigger kitty finds it, and slows them down enough so that they are more easily caught.
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We don't have big cats close to here, we have to make do with coyotes.

Oh say Ten, just looking at the last posts right now, I was wondering are you competing with Elkchsr?
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A SW Idaho observation..........
When driving to and from a hunting or fishing location we frequently (pre 1990's)saw road killed pheasants.....Today Very, Very rarely do you see a dead rooster but you darn sure will see a half dozen dead felines on the roadside.
I don't and can't allow my bird dogs to run amuck in our neighborhood. What' with the vast majority of cat owners thinking cats outside are ok.
Moral of the story.....

Always implement the 100 yard rule.
It's a good thing I have not been putting notches in the grips of my Walther .22 PP.
WD
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WH..
If while afield a feline is more than 100 yards away from any residence.......it's fair game.
WD
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The only cats I cut slack are the ones in peoples yards and of course in thier house, but I have been known to nudge one off the banister and kick one down the stairs given half the chance. Besides they always land on their feet right
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When I was about 15, I had a nemisis in the form of a tiger striped gray tom. He was living in one of our barns, he migrated in from somewhere and was fairly tame, but that bastard went on the offensive one day when I was feeding him some table scraps.

I guess something about my new down coat pissed him off, he lunged at me and clamped onto my back. He scratched the hell out of me ripping half the down out of my new coat before I got him off.

I don't know what tripped his trigger but he was pissed. He took off out the door and I made a flying kick to slam him in it. He made it through...mostly, except for about the last 4 inches of his tail. He let out the most gastly meeeeoooow you could imaging (well the ones that get trapped in the hay bailer give out pretty good yells too...

I grabbed a shovel that happened to be propped up in the corner near the door. I guess I figured I was going to open the door and have to do battle with this sombitch. But as soon as I opened it it freed him up and he was off like a rocket.

About three weeks latter I was up behind the house shooting my 22 at tagets and what not and who do you thing come slinking out around one of the sheds... you gessed it the warrior ol' half tail himself. Appently about half his tail had fallen off after the incedent...

Anyway I had just loaded up a fresh clip for my 77/22 topped with a 2-7 Luepold on it, this thing is a gopher killing machine, easily shoots half in groups at 25 yards with cheap ammo. I figured this was my chance to rid the world of this evil. I jacked one in and waited for him to come into range. The wait was excruciating... I had to wait for him to clear the tractor and the lawn mower, now he was only 30 yards out and gave a little maaa (like on TV when the shoot deer) that got him to stop and take notice. I had little time before he was going to bolt so I lowerd the cross hairs onto his chest and squeezed the trigger... that sucker jumed about 10 feet in the air and took off running for a big wood pile.

I proceeded to fire upon him bout 3 more times but conecting on a kitty with his ass a-fire at 50+ yards and gaining with a 22 is quite a feet. reminds me of tring to hit a coyote running at about 300yds...

Anyway he made it to the pile with only the inital shot into him... My mind was racing, did I hit him good, would that hollow point get good enough penitration. Would he charge if I got in close, beings how he attacted unprovoked previously, I was feeling really under gunned.

I checked the wood pile for blood and found a little. I dare not stick my face into the opening knowing that he is a man killer and all... So I waited for about half an hour for him to come out but I never saw him. I checked back a few days later expecting to smell something dead. But after about two weeks and nothing I figured something got him and ate him.

So about a month later I was out shooing my bow in the yard when you guessed it ol' three legged half tail come hobbleing through the high grass. I had one arrow left but this one had a blunt on it as the rest were in the target 20 yards away...
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Now to let a perfectly good opportunity go to waist to pracice on a LIVE animal with a bow would be... I drew back took careful aim.... but thats when he caught my movement. By this time he was out in the short grass of the yard now and had no where to go.

My instincts told me to wait for him to turn broad side but he was hesitant. Then in one swift three legged lunge he took off across the lawn... In one fluid motion I aimed and released... I nailed his ass (by far one of the luckiest shot of my life) He let out a bellor that the neibors three doors down undoubtably heard. He made three barrel rolls accross the lawn and righted himself...
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(see they do always land on their feet) He then took off for the sanctuary of the barn...

This bastard wasn't going down that easily no sir-ee.

Now I was really starting to wonder if cats really do have nine lives. This bastard had used up at least three now and's still kickn'. What the hell.
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I saw him on and off for the next couple months, but just glimpses here and here... It wasn't untill the start of big game season that I caught him off guard again.

Apperently he had taken up residence in one of our haystacks out in the field. I was perched on top waiting for the deer to come out when I see him coming back to his new home from across the field. He had no where to hide, for about a hundred yards... I had a 243 and a box of 85graing seirra game king hollow points... This had the potential to get ugly
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Anyway he knew something was up and stopped looking in my direction. But at this point he didn't have a prayor. I all ready had dialed the 4-12 luepold up to twelve and drew a bead on his head. THIS was finally going to be the end of this SOB... As I was pulling the slack out of the trigger something else caught my eye. I nice buck coming into the field... I was torn. Do I take out ol three legs or shoot the buck. It was a hard decission after what we had been through... I opted to take the buck.

By the time I knew the buck was down and swung back to look for ol' half tail. He was no where to be found. Thats number 4...

Now I was out for this bastard. I would glass his hay stack every once in a while tring to get his pattern down. But I didn't see him again unll the next spring.

I wish I could say that I finally took him out tacticly but I can't... All I can say is there were skid marks after his flatten corps on the road... and I just about had to take out a mail box to do it.

Ivan
 
Oh no I was talking about resurrecting the dead posts in plural. he still has you beat you only had about a dozen up at once and I think Elkchsr has had a gross...
 
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