Tiger Tale Journal -- Cat Thoughts on Life, Religion and Politics

The greater part of what my neighbors call good, I believe in my soul to be bad, and if I repent of anything, it is very likely to be my good behavior. What demon possessed me that I behaved so well? --Henry Thoreau

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Location: Frostbite Creek, Minnesota

Can you ever really know a cat?

Sunday, February 05, 2006

Part III: Wadena Fishes the Big Hard-Hearted River (The Cabin)

It is good now to move away from the ugly mire of religion and politics for a while and back to the topics of life and relationships (of people and of cats) in the ongoing tale of Wadena and the Big Hard-Hearted River.

(If you haven't read the preceding episodes yet, better click here for background.)

The Cabin:


"It's a bobcat," Wadena said. Her cat voice was a bit muffled, speaking from within the backpack.

I wasn't listening. I was looking up from the riverbank through the heavy brush, stepping slowly sideways and thinking I was seeing things. It was a darker shape against the sky at the top of the hillside above, screened by the brush and trees. And that shape had squared off lines.....like the roof of a cabin. There were no cabins on this part of the river, I was sure of that.

We were miles from any road. The sun was already low in the west and dark came quickly in September. We were cold and wet, tired, hurt and hungry and a cabin was exactly what we needed. But there couldn't be one here. "You're imagining things," I said to myself.


The muffled cat voice from even deeper within the backpack answered me. "No, I'm not. It's been following and watching us. And bobcats will kill and eat cats like me, you know.....if given a chance. I saw it on Animal Planet." There was a pause. And then, "Of course......we wouldn't give them a chance, would we?"

I was walking up a little hill and pushing brush aside and seeing......what was definitely a cabin, and only about 75 yards away. "It IS a cabin, " I said.


Wadena popped her head out of the backpack. "You're not listening to me! What ARE you talking about?"

"There's a cabin up the hill. We're going up to check it out," I said.

I planted my walking-stick and moved up the hill. Going uphill was putting new strains on my bad ankle and I moved sideways as I climbed, leading with my good leg, pushing against the walking-stick and taking small steps and stopping often. I was trying to take a direct route to the cabin but I had to detour around some deadfalls that created a tangled and impassable jungle of fallen tree trunks, brush and branches. I was just beginning to realize how tired and wet and cold I was. The rain had stopped, but the leaves were still throwing off chilling droplets when I moved them. My clothes were soaked. It would be dark in about an hour and there was no way we were going to get out of the woods tonight without help.

"I don't see any cabin." Wadena had her front paws out of the backpack, straining to see ahead.

"It's here, all right." And, as I pushed through and parted a clump of high-bush cranberries, scattering drops of water and dark red fruit as a way of making an entrance, there it was.


It was a solid little cabin, set on a pretty island of high ground in the middle of a swamp. It was a primitive native, made mostly of material cut and gathered right there in the woods.....logs, hand-made wooden shingles, and some boards for siding that must have been hauled in through the swamp in winter. It stood secure and protected by a few old-growth maples and oaks that grew close around it. It was, I realized, also protected by the swamp in a wet year, because getting here involved a long and difficult passage through that swamp.

As we came around to the front we were surprised to see that the cabin faced a tiny lake. It was little more than a pond, roughly the size of a football field. The surface was mirror-still and swamp-water dark and the shores showed no hint of the work of humans. A solitary beaver left a flowing v-shaped wake as it paddled home along the shore and several small rings on the water showed that trout were present.

White birch trees on the other side glowed, tinted gold as they reflected the fleeting rays of a sun that had come from behind cold clouds and mist just in time to glide below the horizon for the day. Red sky at night meant good weather tomorrow. Maybe.

I took a bucket and walked down to get some water. A time-tested and dust-covered old Grumman canoe was resting bottom-up beside the path to the lake. Both path and canoe were overgrown with wildflowers and brush and looked like they hadn't been used for a long time, at least not this year. There was no one around. The cabin door had no lock, only rusted wire twisted through a latch. There was firewood piled under a lean-to outside and that made me think of how nice it would feel to be dry and warm.

I untangled the wire and opened the door. The interior was dusty, but dry and neat and a small wood stove against the wall looked usable. There were two bunks with rolled-up sleeping bags on them. The floor was plain wood planks and the room smelled of cedar and pine.

"Ok," I said. "Good news. We're sleeping inside tonight."

"Whoa. What about home? What about supper? What about my bed?"

I put the backpack down beside the steps and grabbed some wood from the woodpile, picking out smaller pieces for kindling. "We can't make it any farther. We'll be fine here. We'll start a fire, get warmed up and see if there's anything to eat."

Wadena climbed out of the backpack and shot into the cabin like a gray streak. "Close that door. That bobcat is still watching us."

"What bobcat?"

"Duh! The bobcat I TOLD you about! The one that's been watching me like I watch the birds outside the windows at home. Only there's no glass between this bobcat and me. You know......THAT bobcat?"

"Oh." Her words came back to me. "Ok. Well, if it is a bobcat you'll be ...."

"No 'if' about it. It's a bobcat. Close the door."

I closed the door. I opened the draft and damper on the old stove and put in some newspaper, small woodchips and bark with larger pieces of wood above. I struck a match and lit the papers. The wood was all nice and dry and the flames spread quickly and hungrily through it. Warmth came fast as I put in two larger chunks of wood. It felt very good to have the fire. The wood popped and snapped. Hearing it roar strongly, feeling the warmth, seeing the bright flickering behind the clouded window in the stove door....all of this brought back long-dead memories of the wonder of fire. I had forgotten how good that wood smoke could smell when you were cold and wet.

It would be a good place to spend the night. And not getting home would cause no problems. One good thing about being recently divorced is that you can usually disappear for a night or two and nobody will notice. That's a bad thing in a way, but it's also a good thing. It did not outweigh the other bad things about being alone, but at least I knew that no one would get upset about my failure to come home. It was hard to know which was preferable--no one caring or someone beset by worry. I found some candles and lit them, because darkness was now fully upon us.

Wadena was stretched out beside the stove, maximizing her exposure to the heat, absorbing as much as she could get. "This is better," she said. "Now, about supper...."

The water was boiling on the stove and I was already rummaging in the pantry. I found instant coffee, crackers, two tins of sardines and a large can of baked beans. It was like finding treasure. We ate like a starving man and a starving cat. The river had not fed us well, but an unexpected cabin had made up for it.

Wadena was soon washing her paws. "A fresh fish would have been better, but this was very, very good."

We had the sleeping bags near the stove, me inside one and Wadena curled on top of the other. My wet clothes were hung and drying. I had to agree with the cat. This was very, very good. My ankle would slow us down, but we'd walk out in the morning. My maps and the lake and my compass now told me exactly where we were. The lake showed up as the lowest part of the swamp on the map, but the shape gave it away. The hard-working beavers had turned it into a lake some years ago.

We had been lost, but were lost no more. We'd have tough going for about a mile, then walk ridges through most of the swamp and then have about a mile of easy walking on high ground to the road and the car. I had wrapped my ankle and it was feeling better.

I put more wood in the stove and blew out the candles. The glow from the smoked glass in the door of the stove threw a soft red flickering light that moved against the dark log walls.

"This is why cats don't get married," Wadena said.

"Why?"

"Because we're free. Free as the wind. That's the way we like it."

I thought about it. "There's much to be said for freedom.........but, there's also a lot to be said for having someone to love."

"I love fish," Wadena said.

I sighed and crawled deeper into the warm sleeping bag. "In the morning, we'll catch a fish in the lake. A big one."

Wadena said nothing. She was asleep. The quiet night sounds outside the cabin and the soft crackling of the fire were soothing me to sleep as well.

More later.


18 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

I like stories where people end up warm and dry by a fire.
A bobcat! I saw one, and got a picture of it or probably nobody would have believed me! Thanks,cat. I'll visit you tomorrow.

I would probably prefer that no one worry.

9:20 PM CST  
Blogger Wadena said...

Ah yes, dry and warm, well-fed and happy....for now.

But whether there is someone worrying or not.....the Big Hard-Hearted River never keeps us comfortable for long.....does it?

Hey, if you saw a bobcat in the wild and got a picture, you are truly lucky.

I've never seen one, although I've seen two separate timber wolves in the wild (no pictures, but other witnesses).

9:41 PM CST  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

No Wadena, indeed it does not.

1:42 PM CST  
Blogger Wadena said...

Hmmmmm.....that's two votes for having nobody worrying.

Not an easy choice to make, at least for many people.

When people are in a relationship they can see all the many advantages of being alone......and when alone we tend to notice all the advantages of being in a relationship.

It seems it takes a lot of experience to make an educated choice.....if we ever do.

I really haven't explored it in this story as much as I thought I would.....but then again....it's not over.

I have no idea what will happen next....well, I have a couple, but stories usually don't go where I think they might be going.....and so they are like real life.

I like this naturalistic fantasy genre....it's the first time I've ever tried it.

Thanks for being interested enough to read it. I suppose I'll have to get back to current events for a bit before I continue the story.

4:28 PM CST  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I think Take Pause and I love stories with creeks and rivers, as we are so fortunate enough to be near so much natural beauty and these features are such important parts of living..

Yes, the grass is always greener in some respects. Many want freedom when they are committed, security when alone.. but the key thing is perhaps not to be with somebody just to avoid fear of being alone, to choose one's path from a place of emotional autonomy.

9:47 PM CST  
Blogger Wadena said...

Ah yes, if cats have anything, it's emotional autonomy.

I agree with you, Lily.....and would add that we should never settle for a somebody who is in any way less than what we need.

6:13 AM CST  
Blogger TFLS said...

Bobcats are actually rather delightful creatures. I had a cat once whose daddy was a bobcat - so my kitty was very large with tufty ears and jackrabbit hind legs. Cool looking, feisty and terrifically affectionate.

9:43 PM CST  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Cats have a degree of detachment not possible for many of us.

10:45 PM CST  
Blogger Wadena said...

Yes, Lily....humans are human. That sure does have an up-side and a down-side.....I can see that.

6:06 AM CST  
Blogger Wadena said...

FLS...I've seen a breed of cat intentionally mixed with the bobcat. They are big, big-footed and very good hunters.

But I stay away from the real bobcats. To them, I'm just lunch. As cats go, I am smaller than average. Perhaps more of a snack than a lunch.

6:12 AM CST  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Is this the "Maine Coon" type? Is that how it is spelled? I don;t even know. I just know they have big paws, big heads.

9:45 PM CST  
Blogger enigma4ever said...

Great story....loved it...will try to read it to my evil kitty tomorrow ...thanks ;-)

2:17 AM CST  
Blogger Wadena said...

Hi Lil'.....you remind me that I should google a bit on cats and learn a few things.

The one I saw was owned by a friend. His place of business was constantly patrolled by this big cat that he said was a specific breed with a certain degree of bobcat blood.

It was a big beautiful wild-looking cat with big paws. It looked to go about 20 pounds but was much leaner than most cats of that weight.

The guy said used to have bugs and mice and that cat eliminated all of them.

8:03 AM CST  
Blogger Wadena said...

E4E, thanks.

Story not over yet.....I'm mulling over some directions it could go. This may take awhile.

I'm thinking of posting some thoughts about Just War Principles this weekend.

8:06 AM CST  
Blogger Wadena said...

Ok, so I spent the morning reading about cats when I should have been blogging.

And it seems that bobcats and domestic cats do not mate, cannot mate.....ever. Which certainly destroys a lot of fun mythology.

The relationship between housecats and bobcats is strictly that of predator and prey.

The PixieBobs seem to be the cutest of those bred to look like bobcats.

And expensive. My cats will continue to come from the woods....I can afford them.

12:24 PM CST  
Blogger Wadena said...

Thank you, TakePause.

:)

9:09 PM CST  
Blogger Wadena said...

Oh......you say, why is Lily absent from photo?

A while back she had a lovely B/W photo that she washed out until she was barely visible.

I suggested that (like M.J. Fox in one of the "Back to the Future" movies) perhaps she was disappearing.

Perhaps we are being treated to the Lily trademark cryptic sense of humor?

11:24 PM CST  
Blogger Wadena said...

This comment has been removed by the author.

5:46 PM CST  

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