Cats that can't be caught

During the spring of 1983 a mysterious predator was killing sheep in an area of Exmoor, Devon, centring on Drewstone Farm, the home of Mr Eric Ley, his wife Ruth, and their young family. Each morning for two weeks Eric had found the half-eaten carcass of a ewe or lamb - regular kills adding up to a mass slaughter without precedent on his farm or any other of the neighbouring farms.  Finally he called in Brian Stevens, a crack shot with a rifle, to help him shoot the elusive sheep-killer which was raiding his farm at night.

 The two men settled down at dusk in the hedge bottom, concealed by a holly bush, and, with Brian's rifle sighted and in position, prepared to watch and wait.  As it grew dark, several red deer hinds passed within feet of where they lay, quite unaware of their presence. Later, from the woods in the background, owls hooted to each other and the small flock of sheep in the far corner of the field in front settled down for the night. When darkness fell everything went silent, so silent that one could have heard a pin drop. The following morning as dawn broke, Brian shifted from the cramped position in which he had spent the night and made out the shapes of the sheep still lying down in the same positions as they had been in the night before. His eyes then travelled to the shape of a water-trough lying along the hedge behind them, and beyond that he saw something he instinctively recognised - the carcass of a sheep lying on its side. The mysterious killer had struck within two hundred yards of where they had watched and waited. Yet all that night neither man had heard the slightest sound of an intruder, nor had they heard a bleat from the remaining sheep in the field to indicate that they had been disturbed at any time.[1]

 The plains of Africa and the jungles of India are very large and wild places, but their native felines are trapped, or shot, or photographed regularly by tribes people, foreign hunters, zoologists and wildlife photographers.  Yet if it is indeed these same animals which are seen in the small, densely populated, domestic landscape of Britain, they seem bafflingly hard to photograph and, as Brian Stevens discovered, even harder to pinpoint and kill.

 The stake-out at Drewstone Farm having proved a failure, the worried farmers then decided to draw the woods with the local foxhounds. At the same time they surrounded  the covert with a cordon of armed farmers, gamekeepers and others to ensure that the killer could not slip away unnoticed. This was done; the woods were thoroughly searched; but once again no predator was found. 

 More effort and expense than ever went into Imperial tiger hunts has been expended in the hunt for British big cats. The majority of sightings in the first stages of a cat-flap are investigated by the police. The first thing they do is to contact all the local zoos, menageries and private owners, and ask them to check that all their animals are locked up - which they invariably are. The search intensifies as sightings continue, the police being persuaded by the sincerity, good sense, and often real fright of the witnesses. The police officers called to the scene very often see the animal themselves. However the hunt always has the same result – nothing is captured. Dispirited, the police then wind down the search, sometimes claiming, perhaps to save face, that what people were seeing was in fact a dog/fox/deer/a plastic bag etc. and that the search has ceased because the mystery has been solved.

The most impressive hunt was for an animal dubbed by the press 'The Shooters Hill Cheetah'.  On the 18th July 1963 David Beck, driving through Shooters Hill in south-east London at 1am, saw a large animal lying by the side of  the road. Assuming it to be an injured dog he approached it, and then realised it was in fact a large cat with a long, upward-curling tail. It ran off into Oxleas Wood. The same night police officers were amazed to see a 'large golden animal' jump over the bonnet of their patrol car. A check with zoos and circuses confirmed that no animals had escaped, and a major police hunt was launched.

 It was a magnificent affair. It covered 850 acres and involved 126 policemen with 21 dogs, 30 soldiers, ambulance men and RSPCA officials. No sign of a big cat was found – except for some spoor. These were huge – some 7 inches across, the size usually associated with a lion or a tiger; yet they showed claw marks, the characteristic not of a lion's but of a cheetah's paw print.

 Nothing on quite that scale has been seen since. But the two police officers who spotted not one but two 'black panthers' at Goldcliff, Gwent, naturally lost no time in summoning assistance from their colleagues. By this time, the year 2002, highly sophisticated technology had been developed for tracking criminals from the air, and it was this that was now deployed in the search for these animals. A thorough ground search of the area was assisted by police in a helicopter using the latest thermal imaging equipment. It still failed to find any sign of the animals.[2]

 There had been around sixty big cat sightings recorded  from Bodmin Moor in Cornwall when, in 1999, the RAF reservists decided to get to the bottom of the matter. Equipped with night-vision sights which intensify existing light, and seismic-intruder devises which detect vibration, and, of course, thermal imaging equipment, they decided to try to capture a photograph at least of the 'Beast of Bodmin' as a training exercise. One of the reservists was a chef and he even provided chicken offal as bait to attract the animal. But to no avail - the big cat did not turn up for dinner.[3]

 Not merely reservists but also the cream of the professionals has had its chance. The hunt for the so-called Beast of Exmoor - the animal accused of killing more than a hundred sheep including Eric Ley's - famously involved hundreds of armed Marines who spent more than five weeks in 1983 determined to kill the large, black feline animal seen in the area.

 The nightly contingents of Marines with L 42 sniper rifles and expensive night-sights, the same soldiers who defeated the Argentineans at Port Stanley, were in turn defeated by the Beast. While some of them claimed to have had the animal in their sights, they could not fire their ultra-powerful rifles unless they were certain where a bullet that missed might land. However a large, black dog was rumoured to have been dispatched, and did its duty by saving a certain amount of face, and the Marines retired.[4] The killings continued.

 It was not as if they had frightened the animal away, causing it to go to ground, or even become more wary of humans. Reports continued of the animal's apparently undisturbed existence in the area. A Mr Lewis of Barnstaple was sitting in his car enjoying a break in his working day when a large black panther strolled along the lane towards him. He was able to observe it perfectly in the daylight until the animal jumped from the lane into the fields, and he watched it wandering into the valley heading towards the woods.[5]

 Another woman met the creature face to face while she was mushrooming. A huge black cat - 'as big as a large dog' - came over the hedge from the lane adjoining the field she was in. The animal loped down over the field towards her, then, realising she was there, veered away towards the river where it vanished behind a high cob wall. She described it as jet-black, smooth-coated, with long hind legs and tail. She was close enough to see its eyes which she said were greeny-yellow.[6]

 Although it remained a mystery to the well-armed agents of the Crown, it seems this unpredictable beast continued to appear to ordinary, unarmed people, in daylight, going about its normal business as they went about theirs.

 While Devon and Somerset are deep in the rural south-west of England where any animal intent on doing so could hide for some time in the sparsely populated moors and woodland, it would be safe to assume that an animal at large in suburbia would stand a very good chance of being quickly captured. Curiously enough this has not proved to be the case either. Even in densely populated counties such as Buckinghamshire these creatures show the same ability to appear, create a furore, and disappear completely from the scene. The 'Chiltern Lion' seen there, also in the spring of 1983, was searched for repeatedly by the police who never found it, despite the fact that it obligingly turned up in the same place twice - behind Marlow Road, Stokenchurch, Buckinghamshire.

 It was here in April 1983 that Mr Philip Viccars had just finished shaving one morning when, looking out of his upstairs bathroom window, his attention was drawn to an unusual animal quietly padding around in the playground of the local Stokenchurch First School which was at the end of his forty-yard long garden. He and his wife then went down to the bottom of their garden to get a closer look at it. There was a fence which separated them from the school property and this left them between forty and fifty yards from the animal. They had a clear view, and both immediately realised it was a large cat, about four feet long and between three to four feet high. It had a long, thick tail which was dark brown to black in colour. It also had dark hindquarters and ears, but a patchy brown and tan coat on its back, shoulders, belly, head and legs, and it looked well - very sleek and agile. They rang the police and alerted their neighbour, Margaret Brooks. She too watched it for ten minutes until it disappeared over the fence and into the bushes beyond the playground.

 The Viccars had some difficulty convincing the police that their call was genuine, but a car arrived ten minutes after the cat had gone. Convinced by their testimony, however, and finding that the witnesses were afraid to explore the area where the cat had disappeared, the police decided to set up a full scale search. Armed officers were deployed, helped by a helicopter. Their search was wide-ranging, yet no animal or evidence was found.

 This was only the first encounter of several that occurred in that part of Buckinghamshire within a very short time frame, and yet continual searches were invariably fruitless. A week later it was seen near Chinnor cement works. This time the police went for subtler tactics and investigated with the help of a tracker dog, but again to no avail.

 A few days later and at the same time of day - mid-morning - the cat returned to the Stokenchurch school playground. The Viccars were away, but this time three other residents of Marlow Road had the cat in view for almost thirty minutes, during which time the police were telephoned.

 This time the now well-practised officers arrived quickly, to find that the cat had jumped over the wooden fence and disappeared into the bushes close to the M40. Although they set off only a few minutes behind it their thorough search revealed nothing.

 However they had yet another opportunity to catch it when, a week later, the animal put in an appearance at Halton, near Wendover. Four women observed the animal in woodland. They called the police who, highly organised by now, quickly conducted an intensive search of the area. Despite their best efforts the police never found that or any similar animal.[7]

  This series of sightings and fruitless police hunts is typical of most cat-flaps. These attempts to catch mystery big cats should be contrasted with the normal effectiveness of police hunts and marksmen when captive big cats are known to have escaped. Such animals are usually rounded up or killed quickly. For instance on the 4th May 1975 a puma escaped from Jeff Day's garden shed in Medstead, Hampshire. After roaming the village gardens for four hours, she was cornered, tranquillised and driven off to a zoo.

Four lions, frightened by fireworks on 5th November 1975, escaped from a circus cage at Gainsborough, Lincolnshire, with tragic results. Three were recaptured almost immediately but the fourth was at large for over an hour, and during that time it killed a ten-year old boy.

 The following year three lions escaped from a circus in Epsom, Surrey. One attacked a horse, but all were soon recaptured.  A few days later three lion cubs were soon recaptured after escaping at Stevenage, Hertfordshire.

  In October 1976 a pet puma escaped at Blackley, Manchester. After four hours police with dogs recaptured it.  The lion that escaped from its cage in a Belfast theatre in January 1977 tasted freedom for only two hours before police and circus staff cornered and tranquillised it.

 The record length of time for a known escapee to be living free was achieved by a clouded leopard, which escaped from Howlett's Park near Canterbury in August 1975.  It lived for eight months at large in Kent, before being shot by a farmer whose lambs it had killed.[8]

 There is just one occasion on record when the police did manage to capture a fairly big cat - that no-one had reported missing - alive.

Armed police officers, London Zoo officials, a vet and an RSPCA team descended on a family's garden in Hocroft Avenue, Barnet, North London, following a sighting of an animal that turned out to be a young female European lynx. The lynx jumped over a garden fence with the police in hot pursuit, and was cornered again under a stairway leading to Avenue Court flats in neighbouring Farm Road where a vet subdued her with a tranquilliser gun. She was taken to the big cat enclosure at London Zoo where she recovered fully from her ordeal. Perhaps she was indeed an escaped pet that was finding it difficult to survive because she was not in the fit, well-fed condition that characterises most British big cats. According to the Head Keeper of London Zoo's big cat section, Ray Charter, she had a broken paw and was thin.[9]

Traps and trips.

 Some researchers feel that the rather flat-footed, noisy, technology-intensive approach of the official agencies is counter-productive. Big cats are famous for their stealth, they point out, and cover large distances. Pumas, for instance, are reputed to roam over territories of up to two hundred square miles in their native America; by the time the police search gets underway the big cat could be miles away. What is needed, they say, is equivalent stealth: solitary naturalists and trackers, who know and can blend with the natural environment, and who use discreetly placed, baited traps. 

 Fortean commentators have noted that expert trackers of this type, 'white hunters', often from abroad, are attracted to cat-flaps, rather in the manner of the stranger who rides into town to clean it up in cowboy films.  They offer to dispatch the marauder, but they, too, fail.  During the depredations of the Exmoor Beast a Mr Bryan Hughes, who had formerly been a Ranger on a game reserve in Africa, arrived and spent several nights of vigilance on his own inside a hen-house which had been moved into a likely firing position, close to a disused railway line running down the valley.[10] Unfortunately, despite his patience and experience he had no more luck than anyone else.

 The system of attracting big cats with various lures is a highly successful method of catching them in their native countries.  As early as the 1840s in British Guiana a box trap was designed for catching pumas. It apparently consisted of a large box, reinforced with iron, and baited with a goat or sheep. Twenty to thirty  pumas were captured in it every year.[11]  In 1938, Tappan Gregory of Chicago led an expedition to the Carmen Mountains in Mexico and was successful in obtaining for the first time self-taken photographs of a puma using the catnip oil as a lure.[12]  

 Needless to say, lures and traps like these have been tried exhaustively by British big cat hunters in this country. They use them in combination with trip cameras, or cameras with infra-red sensors, and so on, in areas where big cats have been seen or killed livestock, and although their efforts have turned up unexpected amounts of native fauna, so far no big cat has been caught or photographed.[13]  This is frustrating for them, but they are by and large remarkably persistent people.

 One such intrepid researcher has spent several years trying to catch a big cat on film by means of an impressive array of technology and a very methodical and thoughtful approach. He writes:

 'I have tried just about every damn thing on the planet, in and around big cat sightings.  I use scent lures in combination with visual lures, as most cats hunt by sight.  

 'I systematically move the cameras around within a pre-determined map grid consisting of nine square kilometres.  I set two up in each kilometre square and repeat this over and over again.  The urine of  lynx, cougar, jungle cat, leopard cat, domestic cat - I have tried them all, and only twice have I taken pictures of domestic cats - semi-wild ones from the local farm.  I have tried setting up cameras over kills and have successfully photographed the foxes, badgers, crows, and magpies which have come to feed on them, but no big cats.

 'But I'll keep trying - just on the off chance that a big cat wants to see its picture splashed on the front page of a newspaper or scientific journal.'[14]

 The absence of animals shot, captured, or even clearly photographed, when compared to the enormous number of big cats sighted, is striking. The British big cats seem to be a far more elusive animal than either its captive counterparts or its jungle cousins; so elusive in fact that some researchers doubt that they could be, in reality, the pumas and black panthers of the Americas, Africa and Asia.  They argue that these labels - while convenient for newspaper headlines - may be deflecting attention from the fact that, in addition, many witnesses describe animals that do not wholly conform to those species' appearance.

 Some theorists have speculated that there must therefore be a different provenance for the British big cats - but exactly what and how, is another mystery. For a brief run-down of the most popular theories, click here.

 Meanwhile it seems there is no need to worry overmuch about the possibility of these animals coming to harm at the hands of hunters, shooters, trappers; on past experience the odds are very much against it.