The Galloping Goose Trail was shady with plenty of giant Douglas-fir tree cover, so when it burst into an area of grass and farmland, Felix felt the sun beating down on his ample fur coat. He ignored large, colourful signs that were spread randomly across the open space until the sounds of honking and wing flapping caught his attention. He stopped to observe. On a small pond a flock of ducks competed for attention beside a big, fading red barn. No one could miss the huge letters that spelled out “Mrs. Lewers Farmhouse”.

In his peripheral vision he glimpsed two cats running beyond the sign and hopping onto the stone fence that surrounded the entryway. A large gate stood wide open, and before he could change his mind, he sauntered onto farm property. Farm cats. This could be interesting.

He didn’t know much about life on a farm but it seemed like a lot was going on at this one. The dirt on the narrow road felt warm beneath his feet and  led to a scorching paved parking lot that Felix avoided by walking in the dusty grass perimeter, eventually arriving at a small open-front store with a large home behind it. A sign read “Guest House”. Beyond that Felix saw a gray barn shaped roof, a few greenhouses and a lovely flower garden. The cats Felix initially spotted were long gone, but several humans wandered outside the storefront and others walked the pathways that went this way and that. What was that awful sound?

Then he saw them. Goats. Lots of goats behind a wire-fenced area (thank God!) that housed bellowing, bleating “maaaa”,  “b-a-a-a-a” goats of various sizes and colours. It was loud. A bit smelly. Lots of flies and buzzing bees. The noise and activity stressed him out, and crazy humans were leaning over the fence calling the goats “cute”. That must be a joke! He scurried towards the barn, hoping to find those cats he saw earlier.

The barn door was wide open, and Felix practically danced inside, grateful for the initial reprieve from the goats. A scruffy, tabby farm cat called down to him from the loft.

“Come on up here, buddy. I’ve not seen you around before. Are you new to the farm?” Bingo! Except the dust made him sneeze.

Felix dug his claws into the wooden ladder and clambered up, realizing as he climbed the temperature climbed with him. He was thirsty! Suddenly a hiss erupted from another corner and he stopped, wary of what might greet him. Straw was strewn randomly.

“No worries, buddy. That’s just Sampson, reminding us that he’s the king of this place. He won’t attack unless you threaten him.” Felix considered the advice and climbed the remaining rungs.

“I‘m Brute, by the way. Been on the farm five years now. It’s a good place for me.” Brute looked curiously at Felix. “Where do you live?”

“I‘m Felix. I live in Victoria, and am heading home on the Goose Trail. Thought I’d stop in and check out the farm.” Felix looked round nervously for the Sampson character. Brute seemed harmless enough, but Felix figured he could jump to the ground floor on a stack of hay bales piled below if a quick escape was needed.

“Ah, a domestic cat. The farm lady leaves water and cat food out for us, but we hunt too. Only some of the farm cats go near the Mrs. and eat the food she provides. A lot of our felines hunt and subsist on what nature provides, helping keep the pesky rodent population in check and living their best life. Sampson, for example, is one hundred percent hunter, and stays away from humans. I’m okay with them.”

“I‘m not much of a hunter, but I suppose I would be if necessary. I’m used to humans and an urban space. Is there a good source of drinking water nearby?”

“Yup. On the veranda at the back of the house there’s usually a water dish. Cat food too. Help yourself.”

“Thanks. I guess I’ll be on my way.” Felix was relieved to be descending on the ladder and escaping the threatening growls coming from Sampson. When he found the bounty on the veranda, Felix ate sparingly but lapped up plenty of fresh, cool water, thankful for Brutes instruction. Our intrepid boy took a wide berth around the squawking chicken pen while tasting the sweetness of freedom on his tongue. Destination: The Galloping Goose Trail, Victoria bound. He had no wish to become a farm cat. All those rodents to eat, no thank you! And those noisy goats and chickens. He’d go nuts.

 

 

 

 

Felix was back to his old energetic self, thanks to a looong, undisturbed sleep. He was surprised to see so many people on the trail and realized as he trekked along he wasn’t very far from Sooke.  It was a long stretch of uninhabited land after crossing the Sooke River, and the scenery changed to distant buildings and people scattered within sight of the trail. In the distance, a sign boasted “Harbourview Canine” and he shivered, thinking the word feline was so much better. Not that he had any prejudice against dogs, its just cats were well, delicate, refined, and in a class of their own. Smart too.

The sign on the Goose trail said kilometer 40. That was encouraging. This was turning into an interesting adventure, and he kind of liked it. Right now though, he was on the lookout for water and a place to nap. His natural sleep pattern of fifteen hours a day did not leave much time for traveling. Oh well, he knew lots of cats who slept much longer so he was grateful for his youth, strength and ability to adapt.

Ahh, there was a group of bicyclists stopped at a creek that crossed the Goose trail. Ayum Creek, the sign said. Water.

“Aw, look,” said one of the humans. “A beautiful black and white cat.” Felix glanced over, on the lookout for potential snacks – maybe even dinner. He knew water was close by.

“That’s a big cat. Here kitty-kitty.” A young girl put out her hand.

Nope. He didn’t love little kids. They tended to poke and prod too much, and often pulled his tail. Felix weaved his way through the group and headed to the creek side. Sadly, there was no sign of food.

He balanced on a rock and began drinking.  The water was cool and delicious. Except the kid and parent had followed him, so he headed down the creek bank until he was far away from the humans. Felix crossed the highway during a lull in traffic and found himself in Ayum Creek Park Reserve. He followed a foot path through a shady swath of giant Douglas-fir, salal, holly and ocean spray until he came to an opening where sun and wild rose bushes beckoned him. Soon Felix was napping in comfort, sleeping lightly and dreaming of his favorite kibble.

“Snap!” Felix opened his eyes instantly and heard more rustling in the bushes surrounding him. The estuary with its grassy shore sat beyond his sight, and behind him, the tall dark forest.

In less than five seconds, he was face to face with an otter’s curious bright eyes, black leathery nose and plenty of whiskers  He’d never seen a river otter up close. The body was sausage shaped with a flat, well muscled tail, short legs, and fully webbed feet. This one was small and seemed quite playful. It hopped onto a downed log and scampered away, stopping a few times to peek at him, golden brown fur shinning in the sunlight and drying fast. It didn’t seem at all aggressive and Felix realized it was smaller than he was. The gregarious creature turned around and danced towards him, whistling and, of all things, chuckling. Felix was charmed.

The otter slid off the log and disappeared into the water. It submerged with a fish in it’s mouth, swallowed smartly and dove under again. Next time theotter carried its prize to the edge of the water and tossed it into the grass. This happened again. What was this otter doing? Why wasn’t it eating the fish? Suddenly a loud growl made Felix jump and he watched a much larger otter pop up beside the little otter, making all kinds of loud, strange sounds as the pair swam away. He guessed it was the momma.

Felix didn’t hesitate. As quick as could be, he sunk his sharp teeth into one of the otter’s fish that had been thrown in the grass, and ran into the forest. He ripped into the pink flesh and gobbled it, skin and all, spitting out the head, tail and spine, and promptly headed up the path to the Galloping Goose Trail.

He found a place in the sun, hidden from the trail, to rest and digest his sushi treat. What an amazing day! A few kilometers closer to Heather and Lizzy #2. His first humans, Doug and Liz, were growing to be a faint memory.

 

 

 

The waterfalls were lovely, spilling over ledges of rock, creating marvelous calm pools of shallow water where bright green shrubs randomly sprouted across the span from top to bottom. Towards the base, giant culverts channeled the water under the Galloping Goose Trail and down the slope, eventually joining the ocean. Below the trail lush ferns dotted the forest floor where a belt of Douglas-fir and Arbutus trees sprung. Gorgeous west coast vibes.

When Felix reached this little bit of heaven only a twenty minute walk from his resting place at the stream, he carefully climbed up the slope, savoring the warm rays of sun. Ocean water spread it’s wet blue blanket far below him, Shasta daisies winked nearby, and squirrels, songbirds and human voices rang out. He felt sluggish. The coyote incident had rattled him and depleted his energy. Plus there was that nagging hunger. Felix reminded himself as long as he had water, he’d be fine, as he paused and slurped from a crystal clear pool.

A commotion on the trail grabbed his attention and he moved closer to observe.

“Watch where you’re going, maniac. Those things should not be allowed on this trail. You almost knocked me over.” A biker had stopped and was shaking his fist at the three wheeled contraption that had zoomed into the distance, Sooke bound.

The man’s bike riding partner was shaking her head. “Whoa. That was close. The guy was speeding like a demon. You okay, Jack?”

“Ya, I think so. That guy was out of control.”

“I agree. I think he had a super-powered electric motor. Ridiculous. Do you want to stop here for lunch?”

“Good idea. I think we have plenty of chicken sandwiches. I see a good spot not far from the trail, moderately level.”

The couple sat on a big log and munched away, not speaking but silently taking in the beauty. Felix descended slowly, remaining visible as he approached.

“Hey honey, I think I just saw a cat above us. Black and white. I wonder what a cat is doing this far from home. There.” She pointed. “Hello kitty.” Felix sat ten feet away and watched, trying not to think about the chicken sandwiches. Perhaps after they left he’d find a bite or two of escaped chunks of meat. He could dream.

The man scoffed. “It’s probably lost. It looks a little scrawny. I’m not a fan of cats, but let’s leave a sandwich. This one looks hungry.” Felix stared at the humans. This was his lucky day.

The woman looked at Jack gratefully. She dumped the chicken out of the bread onto a flat rock, and added some salami. The pair packed up quickly and left, watching as Felix pounced on the food. He gobbled the morsels and meowed at his benefactors. They laughed and waved as they rode off.

Felix prowled about gingerly, letting the food settle in his golf-ball sized stomach. Birds had descended and devoured the bread, fighting and squawking madly as they flew away. Insects would quickly take any leftovers as the food chain dictated. No crumb would go to waste.

Surprisingly there was no regurgitation as our tired Tuxedo cat settled inside a huge, partially decomposed tree trunk. He couldn’t see any ants or termites, and best of all Felix thought, he’d be out of sight from most visitors. He decided another day of recovery was necessary. Sounds around him faded as he snoozed, and Felix refused to succumb to any deep sleep and expose himself to danger. He kept his eyes open a crack and his ears twitched, a master of light sleep and napping.

Felix was not getting treed again if he could help it. Tomorrow he’d be long gone, closer and closer to Heather and Liz each step that he took.

 

 

 

Felix felt an eerie prickle of warning on his skin. He cracked his right eye just enough to find bright, yellow eyes staring at him. He could only see tall pointy ears and an elongated nose and mouth resembling a dog, maybe twenty feet away, but it was enough information that his brain started screaming. RUN! Felix turned one hundred and eighty degrees and made a beeline for the nearest tree, sinking his claws into the soft gray bark while launching an upward trajectory as he felt moist, hot breath beneath him.

Felix climbed as high as possible in the solid Garry Oak tree and stopped to view his predator, who had fallen back to the ground, failing miserably to ascend the trunk. OMG that was a close call. He wedged himself between a solid tree branch and the trunk, and finally stopped to assess the situation and allow his heartrate to slow.

If he hadn’t spent time outdoors and seen coyotes for himself, and talked with his buddies about them, Felix would have taken the canine for a medium sized German Shepard. But he was certain it was a coyote. The guy beneath him was brownish-grey, short haired, lanky, and scrawny. His rib age was pulsing under tightly woven skin and his tail had plenty of fur, with a classic black tip. The coyote paced below on the ground, but Felix felt confident he was safe high in the tree. For now.

In the past, he’d mostly seen coyotes in the city, and the animals that Felix had been near had not appeared menacing in the least. But he’d heard stories. Dogs, cats and even deer killed by this “wolf-dog”, who could run like lightening and was strong and agile. In the city coyotes kept rodents and carrion in check; true omnivores who also feasted on wild berries and plants when needed. In nature though, he’d been told, these canines could group together mimicking wolf behavior and take down larger animals like deer. Thankfully, they couldn’t climb trees. But Felix had no idea how long this obviously hungry coyote would hang around. What choice did he have?  He’d wait it out.

After twenty-four hours of being held captive by a tree, Felix decided to chance an escape. He could feel his usual  strength declining, as his movements became slower and dehydration wracked his body. He had to have water. It was dawn and he made his way down to the base of the oak.

“A -oooooooooo. Yip, yip, grrrrrr. A-ooooooooo.” More growling, howling and a stacatto burst of yips and yowls. Felix heard a variety of tone and pitch, modulation, and sing-songy yaps. A haunting trill sent him scrambling back up the tree, as the entire perfomance sounded like several coyotes or maybe even a pack. In his weakened state Felix eventually fell into an uneasy stupor, lodged into some thick, tightly snarled branches.

He awoke hot, groggy and disoriented in the heat of the day. He listened for a time, hearing only human voices and a few birds singing, and inched down the trunk slowly. The danger of coyotes paled in comparison to Felix’s thirst, and he moved in a fog of exhaustion towards the sound of rushing water. A trickling stream lured him down a slope where he drank slowly between rests, barely able to hold his head up to lap weakly. His fuzzy brain barely registered rushing water in the distance, human and animal chatter, bees buzzing and ravens cawing. Felix sunk down in a groove of river rock covered in lush grass, closing his eyes, his mind already shut down. Far off, he faintly heard the sing-song of coyotes. Tricksters on the move. One way or another, he was done.