Predator on the prowl, plagued by paparazzi...

  
Haven't seen this guy/lady (oh, yeah, Max was the name) in weeks ("Watching the watcher" in Feb). Here are FUZZY pictures of this very-much-not-a-kitty cat. Pics taken late yesterday afternoon. As in 6:30 p.m. late.

"Oh, no. Paparazzi -- feh!" (as ALways, click to enlarge =) )

"Alright, I'm outta here." (turning around on a log can be a trifle awkward...)

"But first, a good stretch, just to show I'm leaving of my own accord."

Do bobcats whistle merry tunes? If so, how do you spell that?

So, not 30 minutes later, light is getting very dim (so completely fuzzy pic, shutter was open an hour), Max re-appears, MUCH closer to the coop (structure on right).

Time to don my Ogre hat and stomp out there, shovel in hand. Sorry, Max. He's swiped at the hens through the coop cage before, and I just don't  think they need that stress.

So, off Max trotted into the forest behind our property, stopping occasionally to stare back at me to see if I was a) still following, b) indeed, following him, which I answered by staring straight at him.

Yes, you.

So conflicted. As photographer, REALLY want Max to be relaxed and happy here and to get used to me and my camera. Could get amazing photographs.

As chicken guard, not so much. Hmph.

But, as I've observed before, I probably only GET to see Max because he's attracted by the chickens. 

And who can blame him. He wouldn't be the first to be seduced by the charm of a chicken. =) Join the club, Max.

xo biobabbler