One thing is certain: WE are NOT going to open the cage door. We're playing A. v. Stone. (This is a snide reference to the Australian Minister for Immigration.) We are awaiting decisions by various higher authorities and concerned organisations.
The feral black cat, meanwhile, is getting used to cold goose meat and porridge...
The 'case of the caged cat' has brought into sharp focus the dilemma faced by conservation-minded small landholders in a coastal tourist area experiencing ever closer settlement by sea-changers and their ilk.
These have brought their own sets of values and preconceptions, as well as their pets - some of which are dumped in the bush along the main road. After the last such incident involving a small dog, this landholder now carries a small digital camera to gather evidence...
We have for many years consciously carried out a 1080 baiting programme for foxes and wild dogs. We know they abound, because one night the wife found herself in a tug-of-war with a fox that tried to pull a gander through our electric fence 25 metres from the kitchen door.
So, for all those years, we patiently went around to our neighbours advising them of the dates and duration of the baiting, so they could keep their pets away from possible exposure to the poison. We followed the Pesticide Order to the letter, burying the bait cubes at night, taking them away in the morning, and returning untaken poison to the Pastures Protection Board office some 80 km away.
This year we baited early, in May, and six baits were taken. One new neighbour was worried about his pet dogs, which - his wife explained - were like children to them. But he signed the waiver form that is required for placing bait closer than 500 metres to a house. All our lots are narrow, about 200 metres road frontage each, so we suffer from a novel 'tyranny of distance'.
On August 18, the wife found two dead roosters and a decapitated gander half-dragged through a fence on the house block. Suspecting foxes, we immediately rang the Board ranger to request more bait.
Sorry, said the friendly ranger, can't do: two neighbours had complained about the baitings. "But they signed o.k.", we protested. "That's because they felt pressured...", said the long-time reliable dispenser of our poison baits.
But he held out the promise of lending us a fox and dingo trap. True to his word, he rolled up on Monday morning with a cage more suitable to baby Heffalumps, and gave instructions on its use.
"If you catch a non-target animal, give us a ring", he said, adding that a magpie might be attracted into the cage.
Marauder marooned
We DID catch a non-target animal, a black cat that we'd seen on the block before, once, carrying a bush rat or pygmy possum in its jaws.
We rang the board, but the ranger was out of range until Friday.
We rang the local council, hoping the intruder would be impounded. No dice, council no longer had a pound. And while it had a deal with the neighbouring council, this did not, you've guessed it, include cats...
We rang the RSPCA, where the good lady informed us that yes, we don't deal with stray cats... (These were the same people that had kindly left orange alert stickers on our gate twice regarding horses in poor condition on the next-door paddock.)
We rang the neighbouring council, whose pound officer declared they did indeed have an arrangement with our council and yes, it DID include providing facilities for cats. But he could not cross a local government boundary to impound the animal, even if he wanted to help.
Get back to your council, he said, and if necessary, inform your local member. (Copies of this sad tale will indeed go to our MP, and all others concerned.)
We rang our council man again, but he stuck to his guns. The deal with the other council excluded cats, he asserted.
We rang the NSW Animal Welfare League number we were given by the council, but ended up talking to the RSPCA lady again. "You rang this morning", she reproached us. Perhaps it was OUR mistake...
We rang another number, hoping to get the Welfare Officer of the League, but there was no answer. Ah yes, but she's a working lady, said our ever-so helpful council man, try again after hours.
We dredged another number for the Animal Welfare League from the local phone book, and poured our heart out to the League's local 'contact officer'. She explained the pound situation.
According to her, our council apparently didn't have the right money. Apparently, it had also placed too many conditions on the mature-age woman who'd provided their pound facility in a village some 40 km to the south - she thought she could do without the hassles...
The contact person, whose phone line was kindly sponsored by our friendly neighbourhood carrier, promised to try to raise the welfare person, whose new answering machine appeared to be faulty. It could take a few days. But together, they might arrange for a smaller cage in which the animal could be removed.
The Animal Welfare League depended entirely on volunteers, she explained. Takings from an op shop in town went towards paying for the release of animals from pounds, and towards the cost of micro-chipping and vaccinating them. If they were lucky to 'rehome' the animal, the new owners would reimburse half of the vet costs.
She approved of our suggestion to contact the NSW National Parks and Wildlife Service, whose new headquarters are barely five minutes down the road from us, and whose rangers and helicopters crisscross the area on purposes best known to themselves. After all, protection of native fauna was part of their charter, she agreed, and this must include control of feral animals.
We should also keep trying to reach the Pastures Protection Bord ranger - although he might not have a "lethaliser" license. We did not ask what she meant, but think we understood.
So at 9 a.m. on the third day, we dialled the NSWPWS number. The service's telephone system is without par: at first, you are given the working hours information, plus a number to ring at any time in an emergency, such as wildfire or whale strandings.
Then you are treated to a menu of seven options, complete with sub-options. We chose 3 (Wildlife problems), and could select from the following: injured wildlife, snakes, and possums.
We allowed the call to revert to the message-taking mode and described OUR wildlife problem, to wit, the feral cat.
By 4 p.m. the sorely tried Service had failed to return our call.
The 'illegal entrant', meanwhile, is awaiting dinner: cold strips of gander meat (the writer turned the goose breasts into a brandied terrine) in a brown sauce made from the wine-brandy marinade and capers, with a side dish of cooked brown rice.
Fresh meat... ?!? Sorry mate, we haven't been able to go shopping...
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More to come
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The case of the caged cat, continued...
On Friday about 1 p.m., an operative of the NSW Parks and Wildlife called about my message from the day before. She explained that the Service would deal with pets in Parks areas only. Council's two rangers were responsible for looking after strays on private lands. The officer expressed some surprise that our council should have abrogated such responsibility, as far as cats were concerned...
At about 1:30, the Animal Welfare Leagues officer arrived to take possession of the hapless cat. She (the animal welfare officer) corrected our assumption about the council pound being 40 km south (this was based on our experience with the impounding of our two horses in the distant past).
The council pound - which was not operating because the woman who used to run it could no longer countenance the condemnation of impounded animals - was in fact about 40 km north, we learned.
The Animal Welfare officer easily persuaded our captive to enter a smaller cage, which she transferred to her car. She kindly lent us a cage of possum-trap dimensions, ultimately the property of our council, which would make it easier for us to transport any other putative predators of the feline kind to her 'holding station'.
We pressed a small contribution to the League's worthy work into her hand, and added a carton of eggs, expressing the thanks of the survivors, as it were...
So, pound for pound, and taking into consideration the neighbouring council's pound mentioned earlier, we are at the following juncture:
1 non-target species animal removed
1 cat-trap gained
1 large trap freed for use, hopefully, by the intended species
1 large measure of FUD (fear, uncertainty and doubt) remaining on account of the conflicting/contradictory/cavalier (cross out as inappropriate) attitudes of those concerned to the unresolved problem: what should conservation-minded landholders do to preserve and protect native biodiversity on their holdings...
I think I'll go for my lethaliser license!
Atè a proxima!
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