The art of catching lynx
Lynx photographed in Black Rock Forest.Courtesy of Scott LaPoint
Bobcats are notoriously difficult to catch. I lowered my expectations this winter when I headed to the Black Rock Forest in upstate New York to help catch and coat bobcats.
However, the Christmas party crowd before my field trip had higher hopes. When the conversation turned to winter vacation plans, my response was, “I’m going to catch a lynx,” with envy and awe. My friends envisioned me single-handedly defeating a feline predator in a snow-covered canyon. “The ecologists had a great time,” they complained. “All you do is hang out with animals.”
on my first day Black Rock Forest, the thermometer reads 0 degrees Fahrenheit (-18 degrees Celsius). I’m from Australia; we bemoaned the unbearable cold and started eating and drinking when the temperature dropped below 60 degrees Fahrenheit. When I get dressed in the dark, I read the weather warning: severe frostbite is possible after 30 minutes of wind chill.
Outside the hut, snow-capped trees cover the hilly landscape in every direction. Despite being just over an hour’s drive north of New York City, Black Rock Forest retains many native ecosystems.This 3,920 acres of forest It is home to countless animals, from mink to muskrat, black bear to bald eagle.
The flagship species of the forest is the lynx. Charming and compelling, lynx can draw enough public attention to make development decisions that benefit other species living in the same area.
I traveled to Blackrock Forest to see how their science team tracks lynx movements. For lynx over long distances, their habitat is at risk of being cut off by the road system through the forest. The team is tagging lynx with collars with GPS to better understand how they interact with the surrounding landscape. This data on where and how bobcats roam can support conservation initiatives to improve connectivity. For example, it might convince developers to build a “wildlife corridor” (running above or below a busy road) to facilitate the movement of wildlife.
At dawn, I drove to the first cage trap with Forest Research Scientist Scott LaPointe. As the miniature snowmobiles teetered along the frozen tracks, Scott told me of the lynx footage they captured on cameras around the forest. “They’re definitely around,” Scott said, his brown eyes gleaming under a thick wool cap.
From where we parked, there was a 10 minute scramble to the trap along the edge of the cliff. We eagerly searched the snow for fresh paw prints. My toes were long gone, but I picked up my pace. The trap is empty.
Lynx are solitary animals that occupy a wide territory. They are also very smart. As we reset the trap, Scott and I discussed why the chances of getting caught were so low.
The trap itself is simple — a steel cage with a door that snaps shut when the animal steps on the pressure pad inside. The real challenge is to pique the interest of the lynx. To do this, we must deploy a carefully calculated arsenal of sight, smell and food temptation.
“The only thing we can lure a lynx is its own curiosity,” Scott said.
To catch the lynx’s eyes from a distance, we draped a string of bright feathers from a tall branch overhanging the cage. Next, Scott hands me an unlabeled bottle of semi-frozen liquid, which I shake so hard that the thick brown liquid splashes on my hands. “That’s lynx urine,” Scott told me.
I sprayed urine on a nearby tree branch. This is the Chanel No. 5 of the Lynx world, and we hope anyone who smells it will be forced to dive in and investigate.
On the bottom of the cage, we smeared a bait mix from a small bucket with names like “Cat Fantasy” and “Court Call”. The smell makes my eyes moist. Although I used a deft application technique, I got enough paste under my nails that after a week, I occasionally noticed a foul and rancid smell.
In the cage, we hang the beaver meat and decorate the floor with pigeon feathers. As a finishing touch to this bobcat utopia, we sprinkled on powdered silver vine – a plant that has a strong appeal to many members of the feline family.
We visited 17 other traps scattered throughout the forest one by one. More remote traps require more than 20 minutes of uphill hiking through loose snow to reach. All traps are empty.
The entire process of checking and resetting each trap took over 8 hours. The team repeated this process daily for more than four months. This is Scott’s third year of trapping.
Earlier when we were driving out, I asked Scott, “So, how many bobcats did you catch in total?” Scott’s answer was succinct and unapologetic, “Two.”
It’s not uncommon for ecologists, especially those who study elusive animals, to spend months or even years without ever seeing their key species in person. Neither Scott nor I would hate for a second to pluck feathers from a dead pigeon or get splashed with lynx piss. However, it’s certainly not fun to everyone’s liking.
Alice Yan is an environmental attorney and Fulbright scholar in the Department of Eco-Evolution and Environmental Biology at Columbia University. Her research focuses on ecological conservation, ecosystem dynamics, and predator-prey relationships.
