The Barncats

China and Sherbet waiting for breakfast

When we moved to Carroll County in 2005, we inherited a colony of barncats. They were all feral, except for two which were semi-tame. The previous owner told us he had caught some and had them neutered but was never able to catch all of them.

The colony originally consisted of nine cats. Over time, four have died, one disappeared, and four new ones have moved in. Five of the original cats are still here.

We've made progress over the years. When we first moved here, the feral barncats would never come in the barn when I was there. They sat outside, a good distance from the barn, no matter what the weather, and waited for me to leave so they could come into the barn and eat.

But it's amazing what canned cat food will do.

I started putting out canned food when it was necessary to catch a cat and take it to the vet. As most cat owners know, once a cat gets a taste of canned food, there's no going back (unless you are much better at resisting cat pressure than I am). So I've continued to put out canned food for them, thinking that if I do need to catch a cat in a hurry, that's the best way to do it.

It's also a good way to tame a cat, although it takes a very long time and a lot of patience.

Most of the cats live in the barn now and don't leave when I'm there. Two of the cats are particularly fond of the canned food and continue to get braver about eating even while I'm close by. The orange cat in the picture above, whom I call Sherbet, has gotten so bold that she'll actually let me touch her with the tip of my finger while she's eating. I plan to eventually be able to pet her, although it may take another year or two at the rate we're going.

The barncats are fascinating, and I keep thinking I'd like to write a book of stories about them.

It seems like in any colony of barncats, there's going to be one reigning male. When we first met these cats, the dominant male was Julius, a skinny orange cat with numerous battle scars. He was not a very nice cat, either. The other cats avoided him, because if he got near them, he would turn and chase them and wrestle them to the ground, and there would be horrendous screeching from the cat who was being attacked. I don't think he actually hurt them, but they sounded like they were being killed. It was probably his way of reminding them who was the boss.

That's how he treated the females, anyway. I would imagine things were much worse if another male got in his way.

I wrote about Julius in a blog I started a few years ago that I can no longer figure out how to access. His story is here.

In future blog posts, I do want to tell some stories about the other cats, if for no other reason than to memorialize these interesting and endearing critters.