transferred into a hunting context, where the only eyes that will spot the signal are those of the intended prey, it wrecks the whole enterprise. So why has it not been suppressed in such cases?
To find the answer we have to look at the normal hunting sequence of the cat. This does not take place on an open lawn and is less well known to cat-owners than it might be because it involves a great deal of waiting and hiding. If owners do happen on a hunt in progress they will automatically disrupt it, so that there is nothing more to observe. The disturbed prey escapes and the cat gives up. So for a casual observer the whole sequence is not easy to study. It requires some systematic and secretive catwatching. When this is undertaken, the following points emerge:
First, the cat makes a great deal of use of cover. It spends much time lying half-hidden in undergrowth, often with only its eyes and part of its face visible. The tail is usually completely hidden from view.
Second, it never attempts to pounce on a prey until it is very close to it. It is not a prey-chaser. It may make a few stalking-runs, rushing forward in its flattened posture, but it then halts and waits again before pouncing. Third, its normal prey is not birds but rodents. A careful study of feral cats in the United States revealed that birds accounted for only 4 per cent of the diet. The excellent eyesight of birds and their ability to fly straight up in the air to escape make them unsuitable targets for domestic cats.
Together these points explain the dilemma of the suburban cat hunting a bird on a lawn. To start with, the open, manicured lawn robs the cat of all its natural cover, exposing its whole body to view. This is doubly damaging to its chances. It makes it almost impossible for the cat to creep near enough for its typical, close-quarters pounce without being seen. This puts it into an acute conflict between wanting to stay immobile and crouched, on the one hand, and wanting to rush forward and attack, on the other. The conflict starts its tail wagging furiously and the same lack of cover that created the conflict then cruelly exposes the vigorous tail movements to the frightened gaze of the intended prey.
If the attempt to hunt a bird on an open lawn is so doomed to failure, why does the cat keep trying? The answer is that every cat has a powerful urge to go hunting at regular intervals, but this urge has been severely hampered by advances in human pest control. In town and cities and suburbs, the rodent population that used to infest houses and other dwellings has been decimated by modern techniques. Garden birds may be pests, but their appeal to human eyes has protected them from a similar slaughter. As a result, the rodent-hunting cat finds itself today in an unnaturally mouse-free, bird-rich environment. It cannot utilize its natural hunting skills under such conditions. It is this state of affairs that drives the cat on to crouch hopelessly but compulsively on open lawns, staring longingly at elusive birds. So when it waves its tail at its prey on these occasions, it is not the cat which is a stupid hunter, but we who have unwittingly forced a clever hunter to attempt an almost impossible task.
Why does a cat chatter its teeth when it sees a bird through the window?
Not every owner has observed this curious action, but it is so strange that it is a case of 'once seen never forgotten'. The cat, sitting on a window-sill, spots a small bird conspicuously hopping about outside and stares at it intently. As it does so it begins juddering its teeth in a jaw movement which has variously been described as a 'tooth-rattling stutter', a 'tetanic reaction' and 'the frustrated chatter of the cat's jaws in the mechanical staccato fashion'. What does it mean?
This is what is known as a 'vacuum activity'. The cat is performing its highly specialized killing-bite, as if it already had the unfortunate bird clamped between its jaws. Careful observation
To find the answer we have to look at the normal hunting sequence of the cat. This does not take place on an open lawn and is less well known to cat-owners than it might be because it involves a great deal of waiting and hiding. If owners do happen on a hunt in progress they will automatically disrupt it, so that there is nothing more to observe. The disturbed prey escapes and the cat gives up. So for a casual observer the whole sequence is not easy to study. It requires some systematic and secretive catwatching. When this is undertaken, the following points emerge:
First, the cat makes a great deal of use of cover. It spends much time lying half-hidden in undergrowth, often with only its eyes and part of its face visible. The tail is usually completely hidden from view.
Second, it never attempts to pounce on a prey until it is very close to it. It is not a prey-chaser. It may make a few stalking-runs, rushing forward in its flattened posture, but it then halts and waits again before pouncing. Third, its normal prey is not birds but rodents. A careful study of feral cats in the United States revealed that birds accounted for only 4 per cent of the diet. The excellent eyesight of birds and their ability to fly straight up in the air to escape make them unsuitable targets for domestic cats.
Together these points explain the dilemma of the suburban cat hunting a bird on a lawn. To start with, the open, manicured lawn robs the cat of all its natural cover, exposing its whole body to view. This is doubly damaging to its chances. It makes it almost impossible for the cat to creep near enough for its typical, close-quarters pounce without being seen. This puts it into an acute conflict between wanting to stay immobile and crouched, on the one hand, and wanting to rush forward and attack, on the other. The conflict starts its tail wagging furiously and the same lack of cover that created the conflict then cruelly exposes the vigorous tail movements to the frightened gaze of the intended prey.
If the attempt to hunt a bird on an open lawn is so doomed to failure, why does the cat keep trying? The answer is that every cat has a powerful urge to go hunting at regular intervals, but this urge has been severely hampered by advances in human pest control. In town and cities and suburbs, the rodent population that used to infest houses and other dwellings has been decimated by modern techniques. Garden birds may be pests, but their appeal to human eyes has protected them from a similar slaughter. As a result, the rodent-hunting cat finds itself today in an unnaturally mouse-free, bird-rich environment. It cannot utilize its natural hunting skills under such conditions. It is this state of affairs that drives the cat on to crouch hopelessly but compulsively on open lawns, staring longingly at elusive birds. So when it waves its tail at its prey on these occasions, it is not the cat which is a stupid hunter, but we who have unwittingly forced a clever hunter to attempt an almost impossible task.
Why does a cat chatter its teeth when it sees a bird through the window?
Not every owner has observed this curious action, but it is so strange that it is a case of 'once seen never forgotten'. The cat, sitting on a window-sill, spots a small bird conspicuously hopping about outside and stares at it intently. As it does so it begins juddering its teeth in a jaw movement which has variously been described as a 'tooth-rattling stutter', a 'tetanic reaction' and 'the frustrated chatter of the cat's jaws in the mechanical staccato fashion'. What does it mean?
This is what is known as a 'vacuum activity'. The cat is performing its highly specialized killing-bite, as if it already had the unfortunate bird clamped between its jaws. Careful observation
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