Out of the Blue, Into the Black: The Predators of Hurricane Gulch

During the course of this summer, my two cats have taken to accompanying my four dogs and me on our morning and afternoon walks. Ono, whom I pulled out of a feral colony in the Fanga 'o Pilolevu district of the Tongan capital city, was the first to join us on a regular basis, and after a few weeks Haisheng, who was born in a Chinese-owned falekoloa (small grocery) in the Kolofo'ou district, and who is less adventurous than Ono, began to come along with us. The sociology of this behavior is interesting to consider, and I wish that my late wife Marilyn, who held a doctorate in sociology, was here to observe and to discuss.

Denzel, Bette, Ono, and Haisheng at the Intersection of Edwards and Marion

While we lived in the Longolongo district of Nuku'alofa, she observed how I developed a cooperative hunting relationship with our first cat Dylan. Our house was crawling with geckos, we often saw them on the walls and on the ceiling, and Dylan chattered at them when they were too high for him to reach. So I took to picking Dylan up and lifting him to where he could better reach the geckos. Sometimes I would throw him against the wall, and more often than not Dylan would land in the floor with the gecko in his mouth. Sometimes I would carry Dylan around the house, tracking a gecko as it moved across the ceiling in an effort to escape us, until it made the mistake of taking a position above a tall object such as the refrigerator, from where Dylan could easily strike. Dylan and I became so attuned to each other that when I heard him chattering, I would immediately come to him, spot the gecko, and lift Dylan up for the kill. At other times, when I spotted a cockroach or a tarantula in the house, I would chatter to Dylan and he would be at my side in seconds to pounce on the prey. Books say that cat chattering is an expression of frustration over a prey beyond reach, but such behavior would have no evolutionary advantage. The chattering makes sense as a survival strategy if one considers that cats can at times choose to hunt cooperatively and to signal the presence of prey to a nearby partner. This is exactly what Dylan and I did, nearly every day and sometimes several times a day.

Dylan Eyeing a Gecko with Bad Intent

During our walk this morning in the Hurricane Gulch section of Sausalito, I was a little surprised when my semi-feral cat Ono crossed the intersection of Edwards and Marion Avenues, and climbed about five meters up the steep hillside in search of prey; but then, in the course of this summer she has become increasingly confident on our walks and she may range ten to fifteen meters from us. What was especially interesting to observe was the excitement with which my dogs reacted to her quick-step trot across the street. It seemed to me that they sensed that Ono was in hunter-killer mode, and that they wanted to join in the hunt, although they couldn't do so because I had them on leashes. They continued to observe her with interest as she prowled about the hillside.

Bette, Jadzia, and Denzel in the GGNRA Above Marion Avenue

One time, during the days I walked the Tongilava Pack off-leash in Fanga, Denzel captured a free-ranging chicken and snapped its neck; he had no objection to my taking it from him. Marilyn was not pleased when we returned home and presented her with the kill; she knew what a chore it was going to be to pluck it. During the next few weeks the Tongilava Pack quickly learned to take down chickens and to devour them, all in a few seconds, leaving only some stray feathers as evidence. At that point, to placate our neighbors, I began walking the Tongilava Pack on-leash; they had become an efficient killing machine. Of course, dogs have been hunting with humans for tens of thousands of years; it is well understood that they include their humans in their pack hunting behavior. But, what I observed this morning tends to support the thesis that my dogs accept Ono as a member of their hunting pack, and indeed, that they appreciate her as a valuable contributor to the hunt.

Ono on the Hunt Above the Intersection of Edwards and Marion

Whether Ono accepts the dogs in her conception of the hunting group is still an open question in my mind. She brings home moles, which she never eats; I imagine that she enjoys catching then but apparently she dislikes their flavor. Ono displays no objection to the dogs eating her mole kills. Ono even brought home a rabbit once, and the dogs ate it in her presence without objection. It may be that Ono views the dogs as being above her in the group's hierarchy, or she may be deferential to them as a matter of prudence due to their larger size. The question is whether Ono brings home her kills exclusively for me, as cats are well known to do for humans, whereas the dogs enjoying her kills is incidental, or whether Ono cares one way or the other as to giving away what she doesn't care to eat.

Haisheng and Ono in the GGNRA Above Marion Avenue

Haisheng eventually crossed the intersection to the hillside several minutes after Ono in that same, low-riding, quick trot of a hunter, although she only climbed about a meter. Was she attempting to join in the hunt with Ono? That's hard for me to say. She is certainly not the hunter that Ono is; if not for Ono, Haisheng would be perfectly happy to be a house ornament. Her favorite activity, or rather the lack thereof, is to curl up with one of the napping dogs; yes, she is wholeheartedly in favor of letting sleeping dogs lie. But, lately Haisheng has begun to bring home kills of her own; sometimes the "puppy cat" exhibits the behaviors of a real cat.

Bette and Her Puppy Cat

I am mindful that my dogs and cats are far from being the only predators in Hurricane Gulch. Much has been written about the coyote threat to domesticated cats and small dogs. Only a few days after we arrived in Sausalito from Tonga early in 2018, Ono escaped from the house. Weeks went by. She had pulled the same disappearing act when we moved from Fanga to Holonga before returning home after three weeks, so I wasn't unduly concerned. She had grown up feral and she could survive in the wild. As the weeks stretched into months, however, neighbors told me that Ono had probably been eaten by a coyote. Just as I began to think that Ono was gone forever, a neighbor described to me a cat who was showing up on her security camera in the middle of the night. From the description, I knew that it was Ono. I borrowed a humane trap from Marin Friends of Ferals and after thirteen nights and a couple of raccoons, I had Ono back. She had been on her own for 106 days. Tropical forest or temperate forest, it's all the same to my little tiger.

Ono Caught!

I don't mean to dismiss the threat posed by coyotes; the reports of cats gone missing and half-eaten carcasses discovered are real. It may well be that Ono will stay out one night and not be seen ever again, but Ono was born free, and she enjoys her freedom with all of its associated risks. Meanwhile, I treasure each day that I am privileged to enjoy with her. It is my hope that, despite being on the edge of the Golden Gate National Recreation Area and prime habitat for the coyotes, the scents of the more than a dozen dogs resident on the 000 block of Edwards Avenue mark it as territory unfriendly to coyotes. So far, so good.