I was astonished by how little some people in the animal rights movement knew about cats when they decided I was unfit to have Zip because we chose him – a one-year-old living in the woods alone and the loving hands of a cat rescue group – but didn’t want him sleeping in the farmhouse .
One even called the police, asking that Zip be taken away from the cruel and abusive people who had adopted him. Every cat, they said, wants to live in a heated home in the winter.
The rescue group, specializing in feral and abandoned outdoor cats, recognized Zip’s unique qualities, making him a perfect Barn Cat.
Millions of feral cats live in America, and enlightened cat rescue groups try to capture and neuter them and let them live their lives rather than forcing them into homes they don’t want or shelters that will keep them in crates for years or to the end of their lives.
To me, this false empathy is abuse, wanton cruelty, and arrogance at play.
When the rescue group encountered Zip, he was thriving outdoors, affectionate with people but preferred not to live with them, he was a skilled hunter of mice, rats, and other rodents.
The cat rescue people wanted people who understood and appreciated a Barn Cat’s independence and life skills. And that they they will keep an eye on them, offering food, shelter, regular medical care and observation.
Well-cared-for barn cats, our vet said, live as long or longer than house cats. They keep rats and mice away from other animals, which makes them noble and meaningful.
Zip had cleared rats out of several barns in the area without being asked.
He had excellent references from farmers who liked him but had enough barn cats. We were warned by the rescue group that Zip was not fond of other cats and needed to be the number one cat and the only one. He had never been in a house
When our two barn cats – Minnie and Flo – died within months of one another, I called the group and said I was looking for a Barn Cat, one who was okay with people but deadly for rats.
We had a rat problem and knew how dangerous that could be for every living thing on the farm.
Rats carry all kinds of diseases for other animals, so almost every farmer wants one in their barn. A flock of sheep, chickens, and even donkeys can be wiped out in days if the wrong rat appears.
(Above is Zip’s existing new bed, there is a slight hole in the base of the apple tree; the chickens dug it. He is sleeping there on cold nights, snuggled onto the leaves.)
We were drawn by what we heard and the photos of Zip, who looked like the rascal we love.
What we discovered about him was surprising. We didn’t know as much as we thought we did, either.
First, Zip had no desire to come into the farmhouse for any reason. He would peer in the window from time to time, curious for sure, ignoring open doors and windows. He stayed away any time a door opened.
We set him up in the barn the first winter, in a heated cat house I suggested we buy for Flo, a barn cat who was getting older. We let her and Minnie into the house when they got too old to be outside in the winter, and they were happy down there.
Both avoided coming into the house, a small farmhouse with three vocal dogs (one with a strong dislike of cats).
A month ago, we decided to get rid of the heated house – we don’t love the idea of electrically heated things in a hay barn, safe as they are said to be.
We got a styrofoam cooler, cut out an entry for Zip, and placed a lot of straw under it. The farmers recommended this was the safest and warmest option for them.
We learned from farmers, vets, and people who understood what a barn cat was that the straw would contain heat and keep the warmth out of its body. This would be a warm and comfortable place for him.
Barn Cats love sleeping in styrofoam with hay; every farmer I know says so, and so does our vet.
We put it in a week ago and look forward to seeing what he does— we’re still waiting.
The other of many surprises about Zip is that we found last winter that he loves the cold and snow; I see him amid a snowstorm, racing through the grounds, looking for mice and miles who look for food beneath the snow. His fur gets thick; his body fattens up.
We only saw him go into the heated house once; he preferred sleeping on the front porch or in between hay bales, but he rarely slept at night at all. The hunting was much too good.
And he doesn’t mind being cold. On the bitterest nights, he could be found skittering across the snow or rolling in it.
This morning, it was the first cold Fall-ish night of the season. I put the heat on in the farmhouse; we will probably light up the wood stoves later. I asked if Zip had taken to the new styrofoam sleeping cooler.
I didn’t find him there. I found him sleeping in a leaf-lined hole (where chickens sit in daylight) by the foot of the apple tree.
He heard me coming, yawned, and stretched. The leaves were still warm.
There are lessons here. The animal rights people have a lot of work to do if they ever want to regain the respect and trust of people who live with animals and know something about them. That is the best way of saving them and protecting their rights.
We are worried about where Zip will sleep, but Zip is not the least bit concerned about where he will sleep. And he will decide, not me or Maria. There is a score of choices, and he tries them all out when it comes tine rest.
For me, freedom is what it’s all about. There are obvious risks of being a barn cat – hawks, coyotes, raccoons, stray dogs, – cars and trucks. He chooses to take the risk. So do Maria and I.
Zip likes the barn, the woodshed, holes in the ground, the limbs on trees, and perhaps now, his new fiber foam heater. He also loves the sofa on the front porch. Something tells me there won’t be one place where he sleeps, but many, and he is not interested in my ideas or recommendations. And most of the time, it will be outdoors.
I asked a farmer and a neighbor where he thought a barn cat should sleep, and he laughed at me. “Are you kidding? These are barn cats, not teddy bears or poodles. They will sleep where they want.”
I’m not speaking politically here, but social media and the animal rights movement have both taught me to “Mind My Own Damn Business.” That’s my advice for me, the ding-dongs who called the police, and everyone who ever goes on a computer.
