9 March

Zip In The Marsh. His Perfect Afternoon. An Old Feeling Rises. I Remember Rose, Jack London, And “The Call Of The Wild.”

by Jon Katz

Maria and I spent the afternoon at home. In mid-day, I went out for my daily afternoon meeting with Zip. He wasn’t waiting for me as usual. I looked around and saw a small black dot way out in the marsh, on the edge of our swamp. This is one of Zip’s favorite exploration sites, perhaps because so many creatures and flowers grow in those weeds. He was transfixed by something, and I decided to leave him alone.

I came out once or twice for chores and getting into the car (we went out to buy things for our dinner guests tonight). He sat out there—even in the slight rain that came—for an hour or so, never moving.

He was in the same spot where I last saw him. He didn’t catch or go after anything; he was just fascinated by the sound of the nearby stream and the secret and hidden world of the marsh. It didn’t seem he was hunting.

Later, when I went out again, he was in his favorite daylight spot, the wicker chair on the porch. He was sprawling in his padded blanket—Maria’s animals are lucky—so I  came over.

Then I did a strange thing for myself. I regret it in some ways. I somewhat tenderly tucked the blanket around him, my friend arousing my paternal and nurturing streak. Zip fell right asleep, and I felt a little silly. The zip was not cold; this need was my projection. It brought me back.

Zip is savvy and demanding. He can certainly care for himself and has a half dozen warm and sheltered places to go.

Soon, he would be gone for the night. He looked at me. I can’t say what his feelings were, but he looked grateful for the blanket. Or maybe that was a projection.  The afternoon had tired him; he wanted to rest.

There was a wind, but it was not cold. He doesn’t seem to notice if it is;  he never does. Some people make that assumption about him and their animals.

I went back to check on him a few minutes ago, and he was gone. I won’t find out where he went, but he has several safe and warm places to go.

But he had a great afternoon; he loves staring at the march. Our relationship has opened up some buried things in me.

I am touched that he trusts me to pick him up, stroke his neck and back, and even wrap a blanket around him, as I used to do for my daughter when she was young. I loved caring for her that way, even though she didn’t need it or want it.

Zip has lived outdoors all his life and now as a barn cat. I want to be careful not to see him as a furbaby, as many people see animals these days or as needed and hapless as others do. I let him live his natural life with pride and watched over him as Maria did. Wrapping that blanket around him was a reflex, an old emotion stirred up. It’s not something I want to do regularly; it’s not a path I wish to take with an animal like Zip.

He did seem to like it.

It isn’t the relationship I want with him.

My animal hero is Jack London, an author. My favorite animal book is London’s The Call Of The Wild, the story of Buck, a loyal dog who avenged his human’s murder and spent the rest of his life in the wild hunting and living the life of a dog, something very few dogs or pet cats get to do. London inspires my writing about animals we sometimes call pets. I believe Call Of The Wild is the best book ever written about dogs.

My border collie Rose reminded me of Buck, inspired by a dog London met in the Yukon. Rose wanted nothing more than to be outside and work but was always watching me and ready to jump in when I needed help. I did, often.

She was a loyal dog like Buck, but never a pet or a dog people ooohaed and aaahed over. She would growl at people who talked baby talk and wanted to cuddle.

She never once slept on my bed or even in my bedroom. I never did know where she slept. She did not need to be petted or stroked. But she saved my life at least half a dozen times and kept coyotes away from the lambs at the risk of her own life. She always reminded me of Buck. When she was sick and dying, shivering, I would put some blankets out for her and find her wrapped in them in the morning.

I miss her still.

In a way, Zip reminds me of Buck. He’s very different but also similar.

He is loyal and connected to me, but he cherishes his independence and life as a free barn cat. What he needs from me much more than a blanket is the right to live his life as a proud and independent animal, not as a helpless and dependent creature. (Imagine if the animal rights people were around them.)

I’ll do the same for Zip, but I won’t wrap a blanket around him again; that’s not about love but about my own needs. Out there in the marsh, I know that Zip was answering the call of the wild and also managing to connect to the humans and animals he lives around. He is a very loyal cat.

I don’t think of him as a child; that seems extreme to me, but he did bring out the father and protector in me, even for a few minutes.  I’m loyal also.

That feeling never wholly dies. When Emma was young, in the winter, I always made it my task to ensure she had enough blankets, even in the summer.

That explains a little of what’s happening with Zip; sometimes, he’s just a kitten who trusts me. That feels nice, but it’s not the whole truth.

He had the perfect Zip afternoon, and it felt good. I was proud to give Rose that opportunity, and I’m pleased to offer it to Zip.

 

18 November

Sunday Report: Zip Is Becoming A Marsh Cat. He Can Take Care Of Himself

by Jon Katz

Zip is expanding his horizons at the farm as he settles in. Yesterday, Zinnia and Fate mistook Zip for some strange animal way out in the field and started to give chase. Zip saw them coming from far away and took off into the marsh. The dogs and Zip were both hopping up and down, but Zip took off to the west, and the dogs took off to the east and lost the trail immediately.  Zip, who hurried off into the tall grass and into the woods, was long gone.

Zinnia and Fate – they love to catch them but never do; they are in it for the chase, not the kill – were completely outrun and confused. We didn’t see Zip again until dinner time. This cat can take care of himself. Zip loves the marsh; it’s teeming with mice, moles, etc.

This morning Zinnia and Zip played tag and touched noses. Fate ignored Zip.  Nobody held a grudge.

7 November

Zip’s Wild Night Out. I Was Concerned, The Coyotes Were Howling Nearby. He Is Loving The Marsh

by Jon Katz

Zip had his first night away adventure last night, as it rained and blew, and a pack of coyotes out back howled so loudly our three dots all howled back. It seemed a tough time for Zip to disappear, but he didn’t show up for dinner, and yes, I was worried. The backwoods contain coyotes, bobcat hawks and, owls, and some bears.

Zip did not seem a match for them, and we could hear the coyotes howling nearby. Perhaps, I wondered, they were chasing Zip through the dark woods beyond the farm, the only place he could have gone.

This morning, Maria texted me from the barn to tell me that Zip had shown up for breakfast and then vanished again. He didn’t show up all day until dinnertime when I saw him coming out of the marsh and the woods behind it. When he saw me, he came running.

He was hungry but OK, and we did have our afternoon get-together. Zip is intelligent and cautious.  He’s lived outdoors all of his short life.

I am sure he can care for himself. But he is new here, and the woods behind the farm are a hunting ground for many different animals at night. We find tracks of all kinds in the snow in winter when we go out back. I’ve never worried about a cat like this before, he sometimes seems a little too confident for his own safety.

Does Zip know that? Is he careful or fast enough? There is always a risk for Barn cats roaming at night. We had one, Mother, who disappeared soon after coming to the new farm. We never found out what happened to her. He seems to know what he is doing.

I won’t be a nervous dad to Zip; he has to live his own life and make his own changes.  None of this makes me want to let him in the house.

This was his first outing and his most protracted absence so far. He is getting comfortable, exploring more and more in a wider net.

He loves the marsh with its tall grasses, mice, moles, chipmunk rats,  and other edible creatures. He is pleased here, living the life of a barn cat to the fullest. That makes me happy.

6 November

The Adventures Of Zip, Expanding His Territory: Follow The Sheep And See The Dot In The Middle Of The Marsh. It Was Headed For Me. It’s Zip

by Jon Katz

Every day, it seems Zip explores a different part of the farm and claims it – it’s his territory; we sleep here. This morning, I looked up when I came outside and saw Robin staring out at the extensive marsh that runs behind the house. I looked to see what he was staring at and saw a small black figure – he had spotted me – moving quickly out of the marsh and towards the pasture gate.

I was surprised that he could pick me out from that distance, Maria said it was no surprise. “You two love each other,” she said.

I started to get into the car, and Maria scolded me: “he saw you and is coming to say hello,” she said, “don’t you think you ought to greet him?” It wasn’t a request, and when I thought about it, it made sense. I got out of the car, and in a flash, Zip was out of the pasture and sitting just outside the gate, staring at me. Maria was right. He had come all this way to say hello, so I went to our usual meeting place on the garden bed and did some rubbing and scratching.

Then, I went ahead with my chores and drove away.


 

Zip is on his way to say hello. He can cover a lot of ground quickly.

He came out of the pasture and stared at me. That broke me. We had to have our visit together. But the big news is that Zip is now King of the Marah, an excellent hunting ground for a barn cat. I don’t think there is any place on the farm. Zip has not now explored and conquered except for the farmhouse, and he’s not getting in there or trying.

2 August

Our Marsh: The World Offers Itself To Our Imagination

by Jon Katz

A human being is a part of the whole called by us universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feeling as something separated from the rest, a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.”

– Albert Einstein

Our farm is surrounded on two sides by a marsh, an area Maria has come to love and explore. At the farm, we are both drawn into a love and understanding of nature.

It is a part of who we are now, and who we are together. There is no living thing that Maria cannot love.

There is so much life in our marsh – birds, insects, frogs, snakes, butterflies, hawks, crows, mice, moles, a thousand other species.

“You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile, the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting –
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.”

– Mary Oliver

Living on a farm is living in nature.

I didn’t realize for quite a while that I came up to the country in search of nature, and every day I am in wonder about what I find and see and smell and hear in the marsh.

“I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery—air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, “This is what it is to be happy.” 

-Sylvia Plath

I love to stand outside of the marsh and look in. The soft and uneven ground of the marsh is sometimes difficult for me to walk in, but I can stand to see, and close my eyes and listen to the birds. Zinnia rushes into the marsh ahead of me, it is always muddy and damp, two of her most precious things.

“There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more”

-Lord  Byron

Maria goes out into the marsh every day at least once, she alerted me to the beauty of the wildflowers and green reeds blowing in the winds. She reminds me of Mary Oliver, she can see the beauty I can’t always see, but I feel it and know it is there.

“To be grateful is to recognize the Love of God in everything He has given us – and He has given us everything. Every breath we draw is a gift of His love, every moment of existence is a grace, for it brings with it immense graces from Him.
Gratitude, therefore, takes nothing for granted, is never unresponsive, is constantly awakening to new wonder, and to praise of the goodness of God. For the grateful person knows that God is good, not by hearsay but by experience. And that is what makes all the difference.”

-Thomas Merton

I’ve never really known how to write about nature, I feel I don’t yet have the vocabulary for it. Over the next few years, I plant to meditate out in or near the marsh, I’ll get the right boots and shoes and close my eyes and smell and listen.

 

Now close the windows and hush all the fields;

If the trees must, let them silently toss;

No bird is singing now, and if there is,

Be it my loss.

It will be long  ere the marshes resume,

I will be long ere the earliest bird:

So close the windows and not hear the wind,

But see all wind-stirred.

-Robert Frost.

 

Bedlam Farm