I revel in those moments spent sharing time and space with a wild creature. In the last 10 years, I’ve seen my first moose, wild otter, bear and bobcat, all within 20 feet of my house. Each sighting has been a thrill and I remember each one vividly. But the bobcat has excited my imagination the most because I know it to be a secretive creature, rarely seen by humans.

How long has the bobcat been moving through this area? How many times has it passed within sight of the house and not been seen by its human inhabitants? I’ve no way of knowing, but each time I find its footprints beyond the fence, I feel a chill of excitement.

When was it here? What prey was it hunting? Was it hunting by stealth or setting up an ambush as bobcats often do? If there are other tracks around, such as squirrel prints, then perhaps it was carefully stalking its prey. Mostly I wonder, where did it come from and when will it return?

The first time I saw the bobcat was at dusk one evening as I was preparing dinner. I looked out the window over the sink and saw a dark shape moving along behind the lilacs. I didn’t need the binoculars or a wildlife manual to know what I was seeing. The small head, surely misplaced on this larger animal, the short, bobbed tail, the gray mottled coat all declared Bobcat! I watched enthralled as it moved with grace along the line of lilacs, then behind the white picket fence and out of view beyond some tall, wide firs. What a sight!

A couple of years went by before I saw the bobcat again. This time, I was fixing lunch and noticed a dark shape down at the edge of the swamp. I grabbed the binoculars, but the creature had moved out of sight. As soon as lunch was finished, I snatched up a camera and yardstick, shrugged into a winter coat, and set out to try to photograph the footprints so I could match them up with an animal track book.

I quickly found the prints. The animal had walked along the fence then down towards the frozen swamp. I took several photographs of its prints, using the yardstick to measure the distance between prints as well as the size of them. There! Now I’d have something to go by when I got back to the house. I hoped it was the bobcat again.

I decided to follow the prints back as far as I could, and as I turned to do so, I caught a glimpse of something moving quickly on the far side of the swamp. Yes, it was the bobcat! All the time I was focusing on its prints, it was well aware of me and moving quickly away to safety. Which of us is the wiser animal?

Once the bobcat was out of sight, I did follow the trail back. I saw where it had climbed up onto and walked along a narrow, downed tree. Its path led along the edge of the lower beaver pond then curved up to the side of our garage. The tracks then disappeared in the driveway.

I’d had no idea the animal came so close to this building­and in daylight, too. I knew from reading wildlife books that bobcats are primarily nocturnal, yet I’d just seen one in the middle of the day.

While other large predators were nearly pushed out of New England forests, the bobcat remained. Its mottled coat and secretive habits actually have allowed it to expand its range since the time colonists began cutting down trees to build farms. Adaptable creatures, bobcats will eat anything from fawns, cottontails and snowshoe hares, to squirrels, voles, mice, fish, birds, and even insects.

One morning last October, in daylight once again, a family member called from downstairs. I quickly ran down, wondering if one of the dogs had gotten into mischief. “Out front!” came the whisper.

There moving gracefully across the front of the house was a bobcat. It looked neither left nor right, just moved purposefully across the driveway, the lawn, behind the large forsythia bush, along the edge of the arborvitae and then behind the tall grasses, before disappearing into the woods.

It certainly wasn’t running or showing any signs of fear. I was astonished that it would be so bold as to cross an open area in the middle of the day. I felt strongly that our home was a part of its territory and it really didn’t care that we lived there too. What a privilege to share this land with such a magnificent animal.

By Susan M. Poirier, Master Gardener

Drawing: Maggie Decker, UNH Cooperative Extension