Souped Up Bobcat

Souped Up Bobcat

In the Dismal Swamps of North Carolina, we have a wildcat called a Lynx, but we call the Lynx a 'Souped Up Bobcat’. You definitely don't want to get between a Souped Up Bobcat and where he wants to go. They are a kind of gray in color, with tufts of hair that stand up behind their ears and their rear end is just a tad higher than their shoulders. They kinda look like they are always walking down hill. A lynx will ghost through the woods and when it wants something to eat, it won't be without a kill for very long. I used to see this one particular Lynx out near Squaw Creek and he ranged from there right on up to the edge of Jackson's Swamp. He was all scarred up and had a very distinct striping pattern going over his rump. None of the farmers in the area had what you would consider a "pet". If an animal couldn't pay his/her way on the farm, it had to go. Dogs were used for hunting. Period. You just didn't 'love them up'. Cats had to stay in the barn and catch rats and mice. Period. If you tried to rub one of the cats, he or she would probably shred a finger for you. Usually, the dogs and cats that lived together on one farm had a truce, but the Hutch family had a pack of pit bulls that would kill any cats they could catch and every now and then a dog or two.

One spring, Grandpa Kader's best 'mouser' had a litter of kittens and they all looked pretty much like her, with the exception of one. He was grayish and had a short cut-off tail. This in itself is kinda unusual, but not unheard of - bobtailed cats come along now and then. I kinda kept an eye on this particular cat cause he looked kinda familiar, if you know what I mean. When he got full growed, it was pretty oblivious to everyone on the farm that a Lynx was his daddy. His rump was higher than his shoulders and when the stripes showed on his rump I knew exactly which Lynx was the daddy. One Sunday afternoon, we was all a settin' on the front porch having some watermelon and tea that had been put in the well to get cool. That gray cat was laying out under the oak tree, when up come running 3 of the Hutches Bull Dogs. Generally, when they would come a running, every cat on the place would head for the highest place they could find, but that gray cat just sat and watched them. They were just a little surprised, but then dug in and attacked. That gray cat still didn't run. Instead he sailed in amongst those Bull Dogs and commenced to look like a small tornado. I ain't never heard the like of squalls in my life. The cat was loud but the Bull Dogs were 3 times as loud. Towards the end, it kinda sounded like they were screeching hoo, haw, eee, yowe. I can't recollect ever hearing a dog make sounds quite like they did. Pieces of fur and bloody meat were landing on the porch and one of the Bull Dogs tried to run and was just standing in one spot with his legs churning like crazy and throwing dirt behind himself, until that cat swiped him a good one across the rear. He found a gear then and got gone. Another one actually climbed that Oak tree and stayed up there till the cat went up after him and threw him out. The last one kinda melted into the ground. Not a one of us saw what actually happened to him. We were all just a settin' on the porch with our mouths hanging open and the cat just sat back under the tree and started licking his paws. We never saw another Hutch Bull Dog again at our Farmstead.