Объявление

"Духовный уровень человека определяется тем, как человек понимает кошку" — Бернард Шоу.
"Давайте только проявлять больше внимания, терпимости и уважения к чужому мнению — вот и всё." — Gennadius.
О размещении изображений на форуме, О рекламе на форуме

#51 02 October 2010 11:19:29

Miracinonyx
Любитель животных
Зарегистрирован: 05 December 2006
Сообщений: 19226

Re: Сервал, или кустарниковая кошка (Leptailurus serval)

Вообще? А у хауса, кстати, какие? В Cat specialist group присал, что, вроде, ягуарунди уникальна тем, что с рождения имеет абсолютно однотонную окраску, совсем без отметил. Даже на мордочке.

Неактивен

 

#52 02 October 2010 11:26:54

Crazy Zoologist
Гость

Re: Сервал, или кустарниковая кошка (Leptailurus serval)

http://www.arkive.org/media/E5/E5C3ED25-5323-4581-A66B-CA9F253B5BCD/Presentation.Large/photo.jpg

У хауса пятнистые.

 

#53 02 October 2010 14:05:54

shish02
Гость

Re: Сервал, или кустарниковая кошка (Leptailurus serval)

Miracinonyx :

Шиш, "прогрессивность" в данном случае - просто показатель отхода от базовой модели предков. Не значит, что новый типаж лучше, он просто сильнее отличается. Для кошек - это однотонность.
Для домашних собак - тигриная полосатость smile))
Атрокс, ягуарунди имеет котят без пятен, единственная кошкам мира.

Да я это все понимаю. Просто слово "прогрессивный" в виду его определенной смысловой нагрузки мне не очень нравится. Точнее, не нравится не само слово, а отдельные случаи его употребления. В частности, когда оно фактически синонимизируется со словом "поздний". Ладно, как говорится, Бог с ним.

 

#54 02 October 2010 14:22:21

Miracinonyx
Любитель животных
Зарегистрирован: 05 December 2006
Сообщений: 19226

Re: Сервал, или кустарниковая кошка (Leptailurus serval)

я полностью согласен с неуместностью такого термина на русском языке в ЭТОМ контексте, но не совсем понятно, как переводить "derived" с английского. Этот гораздо больше подходит к ситуации с однотонной окраской. "Уклоняющийся"? - Тоже, вроде, не очень...

Красивый котенок очень!

Неактивен

 

#55 03 October 2010 14:09:47

Crazy Zoologist
Гость

Re: Сервал, или кустарниковая кошка (Leptailurus serval)

В энциклопедии Совесткого Союза и ряде других говорят именно "прогрессивный".

 

#56 10 November 2010 00:46:11

Crazy Zoologist
Гость

Re: Сервал, или кустарниковая кошка (Leptailurus serval)

Интересные статьи тех, кто содержит каракалов:

The caracal is one of my favorite exotic cat species. These small African cats are extremely intelligent, agile, and beautiful to look at. They are similar to servals in size and care requirements, although they are not quite as popular as pets. Their hiss is a form of communication, and this behavior can be alarming to people who are used to interpreting hissing strictly as a sign of aggression. It can be very difficult to find information on pet caracals, and much of it is contradictory. I have gotten descriptions of individual cats ranging from "nasty and downright malicious" to "the most affectionate animal I have ever known."

According to some accounts, they may have more of a "big cat" attitude because of their natural adaptation to hunting larger prey than many small felines. This translates into a certain boldness. The higher confidence level may be reflected in a more relaxed, less fearful, and more social cat. It may also be reflected in a pushier attitude that can be threatening to inexperienced owners, and some accounts say they are faster, smarter, and more active than comparable species.

I guess the best advice is to be prepared for a handful! I hope to add a caracal to my family in the future, at which point will hopefully be more qualified to comment on these amazing felines.

My home is more or less owned by a serval and a caracal. They share territory with each other and are kind enough to allow the humans in the family share it as well.

Coda, our male serval, came to us almost two years ago. (Much thanks to Lynn and Bart Culver.) He arrived healthy, full of energy and willing to accept humans as part of his environment. He quickly became friendly with the male domestic cat I was fostering for a friend. In his first year of life Coda learned to walk on a lead, come when we called his name, sit on command and play fetch. He chose my oldest child, Heather as his favorite human, tolerating being picked up by her, even when he indicated to me he was not in the mood. When my three human children would gather to play a game or watch TV, there he was, part of the gang. He would hop into the tub when they bathed, steal their water toys and hide them in my bed. He would take turns grooming them as they slept, at the end of the night he would find his place at my feet to sleep.

We had him neutered and de-clawed all around. He was intended to be a house pet and I wanted to make sure we took as many precautions possible to ensure his success. (Back up plan for outdoor caging was made in the event of any unforeseen problems socializing the cat.) I would call Lynn on a regular basis to keep her posted on his progress. Not too long before his first birthday she informed me there would be a litter of caracals available.

Shadow came to us just before Coda turned a year old. When I peeked into his travel crate for the first time, I was greeted with a hiss. We decided that unlike Coda, (who rode in my lap the whole way home when I picked him up as a kitten) we would wait until we were home to take Shadow out of the crate. Once home, I opened the crate, he hissed. I talked softly to him as I reached to the back of the crate to scoop him out. I pulled him in towards me with a gentle but firm hold. As he settled into my arms, he began to purr. I pet him in my lap as I fed him his bottle and the bonding began.

Coda handled the new arrival much the same way human children handle a new sibling. He sulked..... a lot. He refused to be pet, come when called or even play fetch. "Who was this fuzzy critter taking up '"Mommy's' time?" Even worse, " Why was she allowing it? After two days of full-blown displays of resentment by Coda, I decided to be drastic in my persistence to make everyone play nice. I kept the kitten in a cage in my bedroom, and had Coda and the male domestic shut into the same room, with of course me.From time to time I would have one of the kids pop into the room as well.

I remembered reading the primary reason most non-domestics are solitary, is to ensure they have adequate territory to sustain their dietary needs. Also some domestics will sometimes resent newcomers because they feel not only their food source threatened, but fear they will loose the affection of their humans. Addressing these concerns (and hoping to God those really were the reasons for the non acceptance of the new baby) I had decided we would all stay in the room together. Everyone would get fed together, and I would give affection in abundance to all in the presence of each other.

I also took into account the "scent factor." I would rotate toys and blankies from inside the cage to out and back again, allowing all to contribute their scent to the collective whole. The domestic, having already accepted Coda, came around quickly and began to groom the kitten when I held him on my lap. I would hold Shadow in my arms and talk sweetly to Coda inviting him to come say hello.... although it would be a week before he honored my request.

Within 48 hours of Shadows arrival, Coda was himself again, except of course when Shadow was being held. Between the second and sixth day, all the humans in the family went out of their way to pay special attention to Coda. Extra games, extra petting, extra bathtub time was allotted.

On the seventh day, God rested, and decided to give me a break too. I was sitting on my bed feeding Shadow a bottle; Coda sat not more than two feet away from me. With his back towards me, he put in extra effort to actively ignore me. It was then, I heard him make a sound I had never heard him make before or since. (Or hopefully ever again, since the very thought tears at my heart.) It sounded like a child whimpering. I felt a lump in my throat as I requested once again for Coda to come see the baby.

Shadow was in my lap, drinking with his eyes closed. My arm sheltered most of his body. Coda made his way over. By the time the kitten opened his eyes, Coda was heavily involved in the process of grooming him. Unfortunately all Shadow had known of Coda was a very big cat who hissed at Him through bars. Now they were nose to nose and Shadow hissed at Coda. I can only imagine Coda was offended by this, he promptly bopped Shadow on the head and removed himself from the immediate area.

The fostered domestic has since left. My two boys quickly became friends, and remain so as of present. Where one goes, the other is seconds behind. I have watched them hide on each other, waiting for the other to come looking. They play tag together taking turns being "predator" and "prey." (I have given up hope of ever taking the Lennox back out of the boxes to place on my shelves.) At the end of the night they will take turns grooming the humans and each other, but ultimately seek to cuddle up with one another for the purpose of sleeping. The loss of my nightly foot warmer was the trade off for peace in a home with multiple cats, three human children, and now, two adults, sharing territories.

At some point this will turn into a coherent article or two, but in the meantime I offer my unedited notes and ramblings on caracals as pets should they be useful to anyone.
Caracals have had a special hold on me since I first saw a group of them in the San Diego Zoo. I was touring the cat section, and while I saw many beautiful and rare cats, the caracal was the most captivating of all. Grouped together in their cage, these felines with the most spectacular ears I had ever seen didn't look much bigger than housecats. They were lounging in the sun, grooming themselves and licking each other affectionately, reminding me of my own domestic cats.

That one memorable experience started me on the long path that has led to my owning a serval, becoming a licenced educational exhibitor, and running two exotic cat websites.

Years later I was bored and decided to look up caracals on the internet. That's when I found to my astonishment that people actually kept these magnificent animals as pets. At first I wasn't quite sure I approved of such a thing, but after doing a little research I realized that it wasn't any different ethically from keeping a domestic cat as a pet or housing one of these animals in a zoo.

I kept reading, at first without even considering actually getting an exotic cat. As my interest grew stronger, I noticed that many caracal breeders also had servals, and it didn't take me long to realize that there was a lot more information available on servals and many more breeders. I started emailing breeders with questions about servals, caracals, and exotic cat ownership in general.

I got a lot of conflicting information about caracals, their personality, and their suitability as pets. Many people seemed to feel that servals were a better choice. I was still more drawn to the caracals, but I didn't want to make an uninformed decision based on conflicting information and end up doing something I would regret. As these thoughts were forming, I realized that something had changed. A part of me was actually contemplating getting an exotic cat.

I began calling breeders in search of more information, and spoke to a number of very knowledgable and dedicated people who spent hours on the phone answering my questions. However, the caracal information still conflicted.

One breeder told me that all of her caracal kittens stopped using the litterbox shortly after going to their new homes, and seemed to be missing the "pee in the litterbox" gene. Another told me that the caracals she had sold were almost all good at using the litterbox, and the servals were far more likely to have litter problems.

One told me that caracals were more timid and far less social than servals. Another breeder said that caracals were tamer, more stable, and more outgoing than servals.

I got descriptions of individual cats ranging from "nasty and downright malicious" to "the most affectionate animal I have ever known."

One thing that everyone made clear to me from the beginning is that inexperienced people are more likely to be intimidated by caracals because of misreading their unique body language. Caracals communicate a wide range of emotions though hissing and positioning their ears, messages that mean only one thing to a domestic cat owner: aggression. A caracal, on the other hand, may hiss if it is interested, excited, nervous, etc. And when those impressive ears add to the mix, a caracal can be hard to read. I wonder how many caracal owners have problems based simply on intimidation and inability to read their cat's body language correctly.

I was getting a far clearer picture of the personality and behavior of servals than I was of caracals, partly because there were so many more serval breeders and owners I could talk to. I was torn because despite the flashy beauty of the servals, I had never met one in person, and I knew I loved caracals. But I didn't want to make a bad choice for one of those incredible felines.

Finally one breeder offered an opinion and a perspective that made good sense to me. She explained that caracals could make excellent pets, but they were a "higher ocatane" cat that fared better with someone who had some exotic cat experience. She suggested that I get a serval, as she felt that they were the easiest exotic cat for a novice to work with but would still present quite a challenge. She advised that if I got a serval and was able to handle that successfully and integrate him into my household, and if I still felt confident about having a serval after the first couple of years, then I could at that point probably handle the additional challenge of a caracal.

Her advice rung true, and within a few months I welcomed a tiny spotted bundle of fur named Sirocco into my life. My fears that I would see a serval as merely a surrogate caracal melted away as I fell completely in love with the little kitten who was to launch my obsession with exotic cats. Sirocco has tried my patience, drained my finances, and taken up countless hours of my time. Yet he is one of the best things to happen in my life, and now, two and a half years after we met, I'm starting to wonder about the possibility of adding a caracal to the family. I have a feeling that if that happens, it'll be a matter of adopting an unwanted cat rather than purchasing a kitten. For now, I'm keeping my ears open, waiting to hear of that nice young caracal that needs a new home with a serval buddy.

I've never regretted my choice to get a serval. Sirocco has been a delight but also a huge challenge, and I'm glad I didn't try to take on a more challenging cat first (although I'm not entirely convinced that caracals are harder to handle than servals). Now that I've had some experience and been in contact with more exotic cat owners, I feel pretty confident in my ability to raise and live with a caracal should the opportunity arise.

I've also had the opportunity to meet two caracals without the bars of a zoo seperating us. I'll share these experiences, should they be useful to someone trying to make a decision.

The first was an adult male caracal named Nairobi housed in a exotic cat sanctuary. He had been well cared for, raised by an experienced exotic cat person who had a change of circumstances and had to place him in the sanctuary. The original owner reportedly described him as a "nasty cat" and was herself unable to handle him, even though she had raised him from kittenhood. The owners of the sanctuary were able to enter his enclosure but not touch him.
During a visit to the sanctuary, the owners allowed me to enter his enclosure with a camera to take pictures, and I was able to hang out in his enclosure alone for a while. He greeted my approach and entry with fierce hissing and ears pinned back (and believe me, those ears make such a display quite impressive!). However, he soon relaxed when I didn't attempt to approach him, and quickly became interested in the long, flexible wand I had brought as a cat toy. He jumped to a platform in the enclosure and started to toy with the stick I was holding as I stood perhaps four or five feet away.
As time passed the hissing decreased dramatically and finally disappared as I slowly ventured closer, within touching distance. I saw him relaxing as I spoke to him. He laid down and started closing his eyes contentedly. The behavior I was witnessing, as a complete stranger meeting this cat for the first time, seemed completely at odds with what I had heard of this "nasty cat." It had never been my intention to attempt to touch him, but by this point his body language seemed to be almost inviting it.
His paws were stretched out towards me, and I carefully placed a hand next to him on the flatform, only a few inches away. He was aware of the move, but barely opened his eyes. I began to gently stroke his paw (while snapping photos!), and to my astonishment he pushed his paws firmly into my hand, a remarkable gesture of trust and affection from a "wild" creature. I didn't attempt to handle him any further, not wishing to spoil what had taken place.

After I left the enclosure, I found the owner of the sanctuary and showed her the digital photos on my camera screen as I explained what had happened. If it weren't for the photos, I'm not sure she would have believed me!

The second was a hand-raised, 6-week-old kitten that attended the FCF convention in Las Vegas with his breeder. This little guy was well socialized and comfortable around people, but often turned into a little spitfire when he didn't want to be held.

At one point I was holding him, and after considerable squirming he decided to get serious. He looked me in the face, pinned his ears back, gave a throaty if small snarl, hissed, and finally took a firm swipe at my face with one paw. Quite a fierceome display, but the remarkable thing was that his claws were sheathed. He made no mark on my face, and he did not attempt to bite. For someone accostomed to domestic cats, this is pretty remarkable. If a domestic cat is hissing and snarling at you with its ears pinned back, and if you are unwise enough to be holding that cat at the time, you are guaranteed some bloody scratches and a set of teeth imbedded in your flesh. Watching people handle him was an interesting excercise in observation. People who didn't own exotics would try to hold him too long and too firmly, prompting an intimidating flurry of spits and flying claws, which was usually quite successful in getting them to let go!
More experienced people would provoke those displays less often, and were not the least bit fazed by them. I even saw one woman kiss him on the top of the head as he hissed and spat; the result: he calmed down and started purring!

I was somewhere between the two. My experiences with Sirocco had taught me that an exotic cat can be remarkably gentle while looking extremely threatening, and I knew about the caracal's general hissiness. Nevertheless, I found this behavior somewhat off-putting. I studied him carefully and realized that although his body language was saying something like "Die, evil human die!" to me, what the cat was actually thinking was something along the lines of "Listen, lady, I've really had it with being held. Please, in the name of all that is holy, just let me go!"

When he wasn't upset at being held, little Buckwheat would play, investigate things, and fall asleep in people's arms. He was remarkably unfazed at being the center of attention in busy conference rooms bustling with strange people.

I would venture say that a caracal would not be a good choice for someone easily threatened by animals, or who's ego would be bruised by being hissed at, or who would consider such behavior a personal challenge. This is a creature you can make friends with and develop a loving relationship with, but not subjegate or overpower.

At the convention, someone explained that caracals are sort of like turbo-servals; faster, stronger, smarter, bolder, more sensitive in ways, fiercer, and more affectionate. That seems to agree with my limited hands-on experience.

The first time I remember seeing a caracal was at the Carnivore Preservation Trust in 1993. I had only recently found out that places like an exotic animal sanctuary or breeding facility even existed, and I was so excited to be able to visit. On the day I was first scheduled to volunteer it was pouring rain. I went out anyway. I ended up getting a solo tour in the rain, but that was fine with me. One of CPT’s founders, Kay Reames, showed me around the facility and introduced me to some of the many animals on site. We slogged through ankle deep mud while I met tigers, leopards, jaguars, ocelots, servals, binturongs, kinkajou, sunbear, and caracals.

Quite honestly, the caracals didn’t stand out on the tour. My head was too full of tigers and those weird binturongs (Asian bearcats). Many of the flashier small cats and been more eye-catching.

Then we went into the house and I met the other founder, Michael Bleyman. He was a bit gruff in the tired way people get when there’s too much going on all the time. He was sitting alone in the kitchen with his hands full of bottles and kittens. Kittens with spots. And more with florets. And others with tiny ear tufts. He had me wash up, sat me on the floor with a bottle, and stuffed a kitten into my hands. “Here, hold it this way, and feed it this way. Good.”

I was in heaven. The five day-old baby serval was happy to eat and burp and eat and fall asleep. I had a hard time relinquishing him, but they traded him for another, a caracal. Her little pointy ears were still folded down. I sat on the floor in one spot until both legs went to sleep, but I really didn’t mind at all. I was hooked.

I began volunteering doing construction, watering, feeding, cage cleaning—anything they would let me learn. I brought my best friend Gina out and she got hooked, too.

The facility was very successful in breeding its animals. Eventually kittens and cubs overran the house and they began to foster them out to experienced volunteers. Gina came home with two caracal kittens. Michael liked to name them, but he was running low on names after such a busy season. He looked in the newspaper and saw it was Studs Terkel’s birthday, so the two became Studs and Terkel. I swore to myself while I babysat these angels on occasion that if I ever got babies to foster I would come armed with name suggestions.

Shortly, I did get to foster my own animals. When a nasty virus began to affect the animals on site, the highest priority was to protect the infants. I got three 5 day-old caracal kittens and a quick lesson on subcutaneous shots in the same day, then was told not to bring them back until the virus was gone from the site. Since I was a teacher then, I had the summer free to spend with the cats. They had their own room in the house and I probably spent 6 hours a day with them. It was very hard to take them back when it was time. Michael didn’t name them, but my fiance did—Nenya, Scylla and Anatoly. They taught me many things: that caracals more then 5 weeks old can poop by themselves, that they will eat kitty litter if given the option, that catnip does not mix well with caracals helping you cook, and that the bonds infants forge with their caregivers set the tone for their relationships with people for the rest of their lives.

More animals came and went in my foster care: binturongs, servals, ocelots, and caracals. I think I was happiest when I had two binturongs and two caracals at home at the same time. What an amazing and wild time that was!! With more than 25 servals, 20 ocelots, 2 pairs of snow leopards, 55 binturongs, 25 kinkajous and 40 caracals breeding away at the facility, it was a busy time.

I learned so much from these babies. Because I had such strong guidance from Michael and Kay and later from Sharon Ziegler, the then-curator, no babies got very ill or died in my care in the first year. I learned how to adjust the formulas slightly for desired health results, how to unstop plugged up babies, how to give shots and fluids and how to check for sharp bones in slurry. I learned how caracals speak by flicking their ears, what an ocelot grumble means by the pitch of it, how fast a serval can strike when it’s really excited. I thought I was doing OK on the learning curve.

The second year I lost a premature serval with underdeveloped lungs, who had never really stood a chance. That didn’t stop us from trying, but it was a sad thing when we lost him after only one a day. I had named him Quark because of his size.

I knew Quark’s death wasn’t my fault, but I still was a bit sensitive when I got my next caracal kittens. Asha and Gabriel were the gentlest of souls caught up in manic little caracal bodies. They were wonderful and eager to live and I had no idea the ordeals I would go through with them. First, they tried to eat EVERYTHING. I had gradually baby-proofed my house so the animals I was fostering could have full run instead of being limited to a single room. Apparently my baby-proofing was not adequate. I found Gabriel under the sink trying to eat cleaners. Asha had the toilet brush. Then Gabriel had a box of mint cookies he somehow got out of the upper kitchen cabinets. Then Asha was crunching moths at the windowsill at night. Then Gabriel wanted coffee and any old beer bottles he could find in the garbage can.

Then one day when Asha was only about four weeks old, we had returned to the facility to day camp with other cats and get checked by the curator. She noticed a small tear in Asha’s neck. I was devastated I hadn’t seen it—how could I have overlooked it? We started antibiotics, and I agreed to watch it closely and keep the babies separated, since it was possible he had caused the damage or would make it worse. Gabe played in the house while poor Asha watched, dismayed, from a playpen with a lid. The winter holiday break was just starting for me, so I had some extra time to spend with them and planned to alternate their times out and about.

The next morning, the tear was almost an inch long. I was horrified. I flew to the vet’s office and she jokingly offered me a sedative while she looked at Asha. There was no sign of infection. The skin had separated from the muscles, ligaments and esophagus, with no apparent damage to the tissue beneath the skin. The vet scratched her head and observed the spot for a while. Baby skin tears so easily, I was afraid it would just continue to separate. The vet said it looked to her to be a deep hole, but she couldn’t see why it would continue to expand. She gave me my first lesson on flushing wounds, and sent me home with a pile of fluids, drugs, huge syringes and other gear.

For three days I flushed the wound several times a day. Asha was actually rather pleasant about it, which just fed my fears that she was dreadfully ill. I was so focused on her that I had to do a double-take at Gabriel one morning when he showed up entirely gray.

Not dirty-gray, but actually gray. He had lost his gold overcoat overnight. All that was left was a lovely thick gray undercoat. He had no other odd symptoms, but I called Sharon anyway to ask what I should do. She was bewildered. She asked about his nutrition, what he had gotten into lately, what toys he was playing with. The only change we had made, which I finally thought of after several minutes of relentless questioning, was bringing the banana tree into the house that week to protect it from the cold. Sharon sighed, and explained to me that these trees are toxic to cats. When I checked the tree, I saw that Gabe had been climbing up and down the trunk, and then apparently cleaning his feet. I felt like an idiot, and sheepishly moved the tree.

That night as I flushed the quarter-sized hole in poor Asha’s neck, a strange small chunk of what looked like tendon or gristle came up out of the skin along her neck. It was the size of an eraser on a pencil. I collected it and took it to Sharon, who stared at for a while before shrugging and tossing it out. “Maybe that was it,” she said. She was right. After that, the hole closed itself in a matter of days.

Gabriel and Asha were happily reunited and continued to crash through the house together. I returned them to CPT to join the rest of the mob of kittens on site getting ready to day camp. I went back to work, and resumed normal life for more than a week.

Then I got a phone call that I should come to CPT immediately. Asha had been a bit depressed that morning and over the day had gotten progressively less responsive. Sharon had filled her with antibiotics and fluids, but she was warm and limp when I arrived. I was devastated. She picked her head up a little to look at me from the carrier where she had been placed so she’d be separate from the others. Her ears flicked a bit in greeting and she made a soft chirp. She couldn’t even stand. IN an hour she was limp and unresponsive. I cried and held her, knowing she was going to die. Finally, my friends there made me leave her and go get dinner with them. We all knew she’d be dead when we returned, though no one said it out loud.

I jogged back into the house after being gone for a little over a half-hour. I expected to lift the towel over the crate doorway and see her little body. I lifted the towel and Asha sat up and trilled at me. Then she promptly began biting the door in an attempt to get out. When we let her out, she greeted me casually and them marched to the refrigerator. She leaped up at the handle, knowing there was caracal food inside. We fed her. She ate. She lived.

It’s been more than eight years since that day, but I am still overwhelmed by how I felt then. I picked her up to hug her and she struggled with that “Put me down, Mom, I wanna play” attitude all healthy babies have. She put up with a few kisses before insisting she get down.

Asha and Gabriel grew and thrived. Asha got in trouble a few times as a teenager for beating up her roommate, but she was only telling us she wanted a cute boyfriend. Gabriel grew into a handsome blonde male with huge ear tufts. They grew so long and thick they actually caused his ears to flip and hang down at the tips. All the local girl caracals called out to him. I knew he was going to have a good life.

Eventually I got too comfortable. I think some part of me believed life could continue forever this way. Such amazing babies coming and going in my life, and such a luxury to be able to watch them grow up and become adults and have their own babies.

Life changes. Michael Bleyman, CPT’s founder died of cancer, and not long after, his beloved Kay left the facility. The political changes that accompany the loss of a charismatic leader can have a devastating effect on the people who are tied to such a place. Many of us had gone there because we didn’t deal with people as well as we did animals, and we weren’t able to cope well with all the change. Oh, many of us stuck it out for a while because we loved the animals. I even went to work there for a year or so. But, eventually there was an almost complete change of the staff and volunteers. I fought with the director until I was fired.

I spent a couple of months in shock at the sudden separation for the animals I had dedicated my life to. It felt like all 270 of my children had died at once. In the end, I decided that if I really felt this committed to these species and to conservation work, I should continue to work with these animals in different circumstances. I found others who wanted to start a place with me. So we did. It is called the Conservators’ Center, Inc (CCI).

I was working on the side at a small area zoo, and I agreed to foster two caracal kittens. I fell in love. I knew better than to do that. I was willing to part with them to a good home, but the first person who seriously inquired about buying one of them wanted to raise one with his baby mandrill. Doug Evans, my partner and co-founder of CCI, took out a personal loan to buy them from the zoo. It just felt too much like losing the almost 30 animals I had fostered before and had to leave behind, and it was in my power this time to stop it.

Charlie and Aretha were ours. Within a few weeks, Charlie had developed horrible seizure symptoms. He soon died of a heritable type of cardiomyopathy. We knew then that we could never breed Aretha, as she would possibly pass on this trait. We incorporated CCI as a non-profit and Aretha became our first cat of many. She didn’t qualify as a breeder, and she certainly wasn’t a rescue. We call her a resident.

And she was. She lived in our house at night for almost a year, day-camping outside in the good weather and even some snow, which she disdained. She had never been a dependent cat, but beginning shortly after Charlie’s death she climbed in the bed at night and demanded a finger to suck on. I let her, happy she wasn’t peeing in the bed instead (which she also occasionally did).

Today Aretha lives pretty happily with a neutered male caracal we took in as a placement when his owner had to move to Georgia, where exotic cat pets are illegal. She trills to me when I walk by, or when she thinks its dinnertime. She and Taz hunt our dogs and the nearby songbirds, coordinating their creeping and bursts of speed with ear flicking. When I go in to visit and sit with her, she greets me by tasting each finger and making her little special noises to me. Sometimes when all is quiet in the compound she will sit with me on the swing and suck my thumb, still.

Just a couple of weeks ago I went back to my roots at CPT, an invited guest. I marveled at the kindness of the volunteers and the maintenance staff, the cleanliness of the facility grounds, the abundance of cats I remembered. My Asha’s name had been changed to Sandy by adoptive parents while I had still been there. She was not on the tour route, and I am unsure if she is still at the site. I did see Gabriel, though. He is happy and healthy and has a girlfriend named Marchella, one of my favorite other caracals from when I had worked there. He still has the biggest ear tufts I have ever seen. When I called hello he ran to the fence to greet me, even after almost seven years. He rubbed the fence and trilled to me, sounding a lot like Aretha.

We can’t go home again, but we can take the best parts with us wherever we go.

(c) http://exoticcatz.com

 

#57 10 November 2010 00:50:21

Crazy Zoologist
Гость

Re: Сервал, или кустарниковая кошка (Leptailurus serval)

О сервалах:

How do servals differ from domestic cats?
Servals display some very unique and often endearing behaviors that set them apart from domestic cats. One of the most distinctive is the affectionate head butt. If you place your face at serval head height, you will receive a loving bang on the forehead from a purring wildcat! I’ve often been awakened in the middle of the night by loud purrs and the endearing bump, bump, bump of a serval saying “wake up and pet me!” with multiple head butts.

Another interesting characteristic is the “chirp” that takes the place of a domestic cat’s meow. A serval’s chirp sounds like a cross between a birdcall and the meow of a very young kitten.

Servals are also known to engage in some rather dog-like behaviors such as playing fetch and tug-o-war. While Sirocco doesn’t seep too keen on the whole fetching idea, he could rival a bulldog when it comes to sheer tenacity in clinging to a favorite toy. They also pant in warm weather or when out of breath, unlike domestic cats that only pant when severely overheated or in respiratory distress.

Oh, and (yes, we are talking about a cat here!) they like to play in water! Many owners will put a kid’s plastic swimming pool in their serval’s outside enclosure during the summer. ..and better keep the toilet lid down!

I live in the Pacific Northwest, infamous for its rainy winters. At first I naively assumed that Sirocco would lose interest in spending time in his outdoor enclosure during the winter months. This did not prove to be the case. In fact, in midwinter I had to lock him out of his enclosure because he would go out in the rain and accumulate copious amounts of mud on his very large paws. Having accomplished this, he would race indoors for just long enough to distribute mud and rainwater evenly throughout my bedroom and its furnishings before bolting gleefully outside again.

This spring I removed the barricade so that Sirocco could once again go outside. Spring weather being what it is, the rain started pouring down on the roof one night as I was watching a movie. I began to reflect that the thundering downpour had lasted for quite some time. This brought me to the realization that I hadn’t seen Sirocco recently. My darkest suspicions were confirmed when a dripping wet spotted head poked through the cat door with a look of great contentment.

Servals also have extraordinary hearing. Their huge ears help them pinpoint the faintest of noises with great accuracy. I can rub two fingers together under a heavy blanket, creating no visible movement and no noise audible to human ears, and Sirocco will pounce on them with unerring precision from feet away.



Servals like to stick their paws into openings like gopher holes or your pockets and fish around for interesting objects.
Wild servals reportedly pounce on prey located in tall grass from up to 12 feet away and catch it almost 50% of the time. This is the highest kill ratio of any wild cat species.

Overall, servals are much like domestic cats.... turbocharged! In many ways they act just like the cats you know; they purr, cuddle, pounce, play, jump on things, run if they get scared, etc. Those traits are just magnified. If there is anything domestic cats do that annoys or alarms you, a serval is not for you! On the flip side of this, if you really love cats you may find that a serval is a dream come true.



Here, Sirocco has his leg deep in a gopher hole. This photo also shows the striking black and white markings found on the inside of his legs.

Domestic cats purr; servals have the loudest and deepest purr you've ever heard. The magnificent purr of these spotted cats is something you just have to hear to believe, and it’s all the more special combined with their eyes-half-closed “I adore you” expression.

Domestic cats are affectionate (all myths about aloof cats notwithstanding); servals adore you and wear their hearts on their sleeves. These cats bond completely to you and their love is unmistakable. You do have to earn this affection, but once you’ve earned their trust and love it’s hard to even imagine that this is a “wild” animal.

Domestic cats weigh 7-15 pounds; servals weigh 20- 40. This may not seem all that significant, but when you realize that a 3-month-old Serval is the size of a full grown domestic cat with all the energy of a kitten it begins to strike home. In addition to being heavier than domestic cats, they have a much lankier, lighter build which makes them quite large for their weight. My Sirocco could stand on his hind legs and place his paws around my waist when he was 7 months old…and I’m not short!

These kitties are heavy enough to hurt when they pounce on you in play, and can leap to the top of the tallest piece of furniture in your house. They require huge litterboxes as well.

For me the size of servals is just about perfect. They are small enough so as not to be intimidating; it would be difficult or impossible for a serval to seriously injure me even if it wanted to, and people tend to have reactions such as “How beautiful, can I pet him?” rather than “Will it eat me?”

However, they are quite significantly larger than a domestic cat, which just adds to the magic of having one around. You can’t help but be constantly reminded of just how special and different these wonderful cats are. I don’t say this from the perspective of a person who wants to own something rare; I say it as a lifetime cat lover who still can’t quite believe her good fortune to be living in the very same house with a real, live, purring African serval!

Domestic cats pounce on things; servals unleash a deadly accurate "karate chop" surgical strike at them.

Domestic cats like to play with things and wrestle; serval kittens devote 95% of their waking hours (basically the entire time not occupied by eating or going to the bathroom) to the application of tooth and claw to anything they can get ahold of. Distinct preference is given to things that move, such as their owners!

Expect to spend quite a bit of time teaching your serval kitten to play with toys instead of your hands, feet, and hair. If you can arrange to have an almost full grown but still young and playful domestic cat around the house, and can successfully introduce the two felines, it can really help for the serval to have another cat to play with.

If you are a fan of stuffed animals, beanie babies, or cute little sofa pillows: beware! They and the serval will not be able to exist in the same room. I know what you’re thinking; I’ll just put them on the top shelf of my…. No dice. He can jump up there.

Domestic cats jump up on your windowsills and the refrigerator, rarely disturbing household objects; servals jump on your bookshelves, kitchen counters, tables, computer desks, and any other raised surface leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. While supremely athletic animals, servals are entirely lacking the “gracefully avoid knocking over objects on the shelf” gene. Knickknacks on the bookshelf? Gone, or later discovered buried in the litterbox. Stuff on your kitchen counter? Knocked over and sent flying several feet in random directions.




This serval wants me out of her enclosure now! She loves her owner, but wants nothing to do with other humans.
A domestic cat is a surprisingly formidable foe when you are trying to do something awful to it like give it a pill or a bath; servals are bigger, stronger, smarter, and have faster reflexes. (Hint: Train them to accept restraint and handling when they are very, very small.)

A domestic cat is prone to startling and bolting for cover when something scares it, using claws instinctively if necessary to escape; a serval notices the scary thing 3 times sooner, has reflexes of lightning, and thinks nothing of jumping five feet in the air when startled. And need I mention the claws? They are very large and very sharp.... And no, it's not perfectly okay to amputate them (see Declawing)!

Domestic cats are pretty smart; servals are extremely intelligent.




In contrast, this friendly boy invited me in for a cuddle.
Unaltered domestic cats sometimes spray in the house; servals mark their territory up to 46 times an hour in the wild. Servals are much more prone to spraying and litter box problems than domestic cats.

When a domestic cat hisses, fluffs up his tail, or raises the hair along his back, it usually means only one thing: I’m scared, so back off or you’ll be hamburger. Coming from a serval, these behaviors are just as likely to mean I love you and I’m excited that you’re home, or Cool bird, mom, can I chase it?

You have to take precautions to prevent your serval from escaping from the house. That means never leaving windows or doors open, making sure your cat cannot slip out the door as you open it, no cat or dog doors, etc.

Servals are somewhat infamous for swallowing strange things and requiring surgery to remove them. I know of one person whose serval underwent four separate surgeries during his lifetime to remove various foreign objects.

You have to take precautions to prevent your serval from escaping from the house. That means never leaving windows or doors open, making sure your cat cannot slip out the door as you open it, no cat or dog doors, etc.

Unlike most domestic cats, servals chew on things including shoes, electrical cords, baskets, plants, bedframes, etc. Serval-proofing your house can be a formidable task. Servals are also somewhat infamous for swallowing strange things and requiring surgery to remove them.

Some sources seem to indicate that living with a serval is no more challenging than feeding your pet goldfish. At the other end of the extreme spectrum, many sanctuaries and animal rights activists paint servals and other exotic cats as unmanageable creatures that no ordinary mortal could hope to deal with successfully. As is usually the case, the truth lies in a rational world between the two extremes.

Servals are much more challenging and time consuming to raise than a domestic cat. In order to end up with a tame, safe, and loving serval that can live in your house, you are going to have to spend a lot of time socializing, training, and housebreaking him. These things don’t happen automatically with a serval.

There will be problems to overcome. In order to do so you will need a solid understanding of how animals learn and how to humanely modify their behavior. This is not an animal for an inexperienced pet owner, or even for an experienced pet owner who has only had "easy" animals!

A Serval kitten is like a domestic kitten on speed! If you have ever raised a kitten you know how playful (and sometimes destructive) they are. Then imagine kittens the size of a full-grown domestic cat, with way more energy! Prepare to be playfully tackled, bitten, clawed, climbed, and otherwise wrestled with by a huge kitten, and make sure you have the training experience to teach your little fireball to be gentle with humans and your house.

However, if you have the knowledge of training and you put in the time, you will be rewarded with a wonderful, loving companion who is fun to live with and easy and safe to handle. A well-raised serval really is incredibly sweet and amazing. To me it is worth every bit of the time and effort.

Sirocco has an incredibly loud purr, and when he's feeling affectionate he looks at me with complete adoration written on his face, purrs, and licks me. When I get home from work he greets me with purrs and ankle rubs, and it is clear that he is very strongly bonded to me. I have had very affectionate domestic cats, but Sirocco makes his love known more intensely then any domestic cat I've ever had. However, he spends a lot less time overall hanging out purring and cuddling than a domestic cat (that high-energy thing). This may change, as I notice he gets more affectionate the older he gets. I have to say he seems really happy as a pet cat. He is very high energy and spends a lot of time on the go.

As a result of lots of early socialization, he is very tame and will let even large groups of people pet him. However, I have seen him purr only once for a stranger; he seems to reserve true affection for his family.

Living with a serval means having your sandal stolen from beneath your foot and carried out into the enclosure in the rain at 11:00 p.m.…. Then being forced to go outside to get it lest he ingest portions of it.

Sirocco had been playing out in his enclosure one evening, uninterested in being petted. When I got to bed I found myself sobbing away a heart-wrenching day’s work. As I lay there, I felt a soft nose in my ear, followed by a thundering purr. When I didn’t respond, he gently butted my face over and over until I said hi to him. When I spoke, he licked my cheek, then started rubbing his forehead against my face. He continued to lick my tears and “pet” me until I stopped crying. Once satisfied that I was okay, he lay down beside me, squeezing his body tightly against mine as we fell asleep.

I was sitting on the edge of my bed pulling on socks one morning, having finished petting Sirocco…. Or so I thought! Approaching from behind, he laid his head on my shoulder and commenced purring loudly into my ear, paws kneading on the bed beside me. Needless to say I abandoned my socks.

Shoes and sandals have been banned from serval-occupied regions of the house ever since he ate part of one and nearly had to have it surgically removed. In response, Sirocco has developed military-strength sandal-detecting powers. Sometimes my mother will be naive enough to enter my bedroom at night to watch a movie wearing the precious contraband. Relaxing in her chair, she unthinkingly slips off her sandals as Sirocco lingers nearby with feigned indifference. He strolls casually past, then seizes the prize on his teeth and bolts cheetah-like onto the dresser and out the door to his lair, having learned long ago that thieving humans can’t follow. Even if one of us is lucky enough to cut off his escape route, he will not surrender. Jaws locked on, he closes his eyes contentedly and growls as we make futile attempts to pry, pull, twist, and coax the now tooth-marked sandal from his grasp.

Pouncing on the faces of sleeping humans and nibbling (that’s putting it kindly) on their toes are also favorite nighttime activities.

I have a deliciously slothful habit of flopping down on my bed to eat dinner. This has a great deal to do with the fact that the bed is one of the few comfortable spots in the house, and it’s within Sirocco’s domain so I get to enjoy his company. One afternoon I neglected to prepare a portion (tomatoes, cheese, and refried beans) for Sirocco before I crashed with a plate of Mexican food. He came up to me and pushed his nose towards the plate a few times. When I blocked him, he lay down beside me purring, drooled a little, and stretched his head out close to my elbow, chin resting on the bed. I relented and shared a couple of tomato pieces. That wasn’t good enough, so he got up again only to be blocked by my hand. He did what any sensible serval would do: he snaked out his paw and smacked my tortillas!

One night Sirocco had been awakening me with a karate-pounce every half-hour. I finally scooped up my rowdy serval and began to carry him out to the crate in my living room: the one now reserved for servals that won’t let their humans get a wink of sleep. Trouble struck when my mother’s Rottweiler mistook me for an interloper as I exited my bedroom door and charged out of the dark with a snarl. Exit serval. He was out of my arms, over my head, and back in the bedroom before the dog could take two steps. Enter bandages. I had a nice bloody welt across my jaw, and the gash in my neck caused people at work the next day to ask what I’d done to provoke Louie the Knife.

Before Sirocco arrived, I’d been adamant: no litter boxes in my bedroom. Now, I’m just content when he actually uses the giant box that so gracefully adorns the floor by my entertainment center rather than peeing on my bed.

One evening I came home from work to find the blankets dragged from my bed, one of them lying elegantly by the entrance to the litter box. As a thoughtful decorative touch, he’d also removed a German Shepherd figurine from my bookshelf and placed it in the litter box with one ear poking out.

I think I’m going to recommend servals to interior designers. They can sell or rent them to clients, on the condition that the designer is called in every time the serval “redecorates” the house. What a way to build repeat business!

One thing I’m quite proud of is the fact that Sirocco isn’t very destructive indoors with his claws. For instance, he doesn’t claw the curtains. He just yanks the curtain rod loose from the wall and drags the curtains under the bed. Good serval.

Ещё несколько интересных статей здесь - http://exoticcatz.com/speciesserval.html

 

#58 24 November 2010 15:07:31

Crazy Zoologist
Гость

Re: Сервал, или кустарниковая кошка (Leptailurus serval)

У меня уже есть статья о каракале, но сейчас пытаюсь написать объёмную статью с подродбностями. Не знаю, хватит ли нервов, в последнее время статьи не пишутся. Вот начало статьи, только начал:

Каракал (Caracal caracal) - представитель семейства кошачьих (Felidae), подсемейства малых кошек (Felinae), единственный представитель рода каракалов (Caracal). Его иногда называют степной рысью за внешнее сходство с рысями, однако последние представляют собой отдельный род рысей (Lynx), в который входят четыре современных вида). Филогенетические связи каракала с рыси до конца не выяснены. Имея некоторое внешнее сходство с рысями каракал всё-таки сильно отличается от них анатомически и морфологически - однотонная окраска, илённая пятнистости даже в ювенильном возрасте, более удлинённый череп, классическая зубная формула кошачьих - 30 зубов (у рысей их 28), более удлинённое тело, более длинный хвост и т.п. На данный момент нет никаких сомнений в том, что каракал представляет собой отдельный монотипичный род Caracal. Хотя, вполне возможно, что каракал находится с рысями в более тесном родстве, нежели другие кошачьи.
Голова каракала довольно крупная, заметно вытянутая, лицевая часть черепа удлинённая. Слухоые барабаны относительно неелеки, расстояние между ними больше ширины передней части межкрыловидной впадины. Носовые выступы межчелюстной и лобной костей соприкасаются соприкасаются или почти соприкасаются. Уши крупные, узкие и заострённые, оканчивающиеся длинными кисточками (длиннее, чем у рыси). В целом это среднего размера грациозная кошка довольно лёшкого склада, однако очень атлетичная и мускулистая. Туловище с ногами почти вписывается в квадрат. Конечонсти сильные, хотя и суховатые. Задние конечности длиннее передних.
Когти крепкие и острые, светлоокрашенные. Когти на передних лапах сильно сжаты с боков и круто серповидно изогнуты, задние более широкие и менее изогнутые. Межпальцевые перепонки, особенно на задних конечностях сильно сокращены, и лапа очень сходна с лапой гепарда.
Зимний мех короткий, ровный по всему телу. Шерсть мягкая (хотя несколько грубее, чем у большинства представителей кошачьих), плотно прилегающая, не шелкоистная. На брюхе и груди она мягче и несколько удлинена, однако реже. На спине на один квадратный сантиметр приходится около 2500 волос, на брюхе - менее 1000. На один кроющий волос приходится 4-5 пуховых. Длина пуха на спине примерно 28 см, толщина 47 мк, на брюхе - 36 мм и 28 мк соотвественно. Волосы на вершине уха (кисточки) грубые и упругие, длина которых достигает 6 см.
Летний мех значительно реже, грубее и короче зимнего, хотя контраст не так велик как у большинства других кошек, даже южных. Каракал даже в зимнем мехе - самая короткошёрстная кошка на постсоветском пространстве.

 

#59 29 November 2010 16:04:22

Crazy Zoologist
Гость

Re: Сервал, или кустарниковая кошка (Leptailurus serval)

Этот фильм, думаю многие видели. Каракал против гиен:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i7w7xgzMSmI

 

#60 29 November 2010 17:00:28

zoohuman
Гость

Re: Сервал, или кустарниковая кошка (Leptailurus serval)

Да, каракал - очень красивая кошка.

http://zoohuman.ru/foto/pub/caracal.jpg

Вот здесь - несколько снимков.
Felis caracal (Каракал)
http://zoohuman.ru/index.php?id=83


А на сервала похожа (по окраске и размерам) еще одна кошка - оцелот.
Felis serval (Сервал)   
http://zoohuman.ru/index.php?id=92
 
Felis pardalis (Оцелот) 
http://zoohuman.ru/index.php?id=90

Отредактировано zoohuman (01 July 2011 19:41:04)

 

#61 29 November 2010 17:00:34

Crazy Zoologist
Гость

Re: Сервал, или кустарниковая кошка (Leptailurus serval)

Каракал в Израиле - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XsTesnk6f_c

 

#62 26 December 2010 10:17:32

пришелец
Любопытный
Откуда: Новосибирск
Зарегистрирован: 29 November 2010
Сообщений: 36

Re: Сервал, или кустарниковая кошка (Leptailurus serval)

Сервал и каракал родственные виды, но по поведению сильно различаются. По крайней мере в зоопарке. Сервалы спокойнее, менее агрессивны, не ссорятся, не шипят на соседей и посетителей.

http://img-fotki.yandex.ru/get/4205/k2618.8/0_46fbc_cb829a00_XL.jpg

http://img-fotki.yandex.ru/get/4602/k2618.b/0_55cf8_90b34079_XL.jpg

http://img-fotki.yandex.ru/get/53/k2618.9/0_48c4b_3e498d04_-1-XL.jpg

http://img-fotki.yandex.ru/get/4208/k2618.7/0_3d310_8ac4ad8b_-3-XL.jpg

Неактивен

 

#63 26 December 2010 14:00:33

Odin
Любитель животных
Откуда: планета Земля
Зарегистрирован: 17 November 2008
Сообщений: 530

Re: Сервал, или кустарниковая кошка (Leptailurus serval)

пришелец :

Сервалы спокойнее, менее агрессивны, не ссорятся, не шипят на соседей и посетителей.

насчет "не шипят на посетителей" - не согласен. По крайней мере тот что в минском зоопарке - на меня постоянно шипит

а фотографии - классные


"койот будет последним животным на Земле, когда исчезнут бизоны, исчезнет человек и мир погрузится во мрак. И тогда, в кромешной тьме эхом прозвучит вечный зов койота" (индейская легенда)

Неактивен

 

#64 26 December 2010 20:04:52

Crazy Zoologist
Гость

Re: Сервал, или кустарниковая кошка (Leptailurus serval)

У нас в зоопарке сервал тоже шипит. В плане приручения эти звери примерно равны и относительно хорошо приручаются. Полегче чем оцелоты (которые тоже не самые "злые" среди кошачьих).

 

#65 26 December 2010 22:18:17

Nimravid
Любитель животных
Зарегистрирован: 24 May 2007
Сообщений: 550

Re: Сервал, или кустарниковая кошка (Leptailurus serval)

окрас головы каракала на нижней правой фотке очень похож по окрасу на голову пумы
(если конечно не обращать внимание на длинные уши каракала).

Неактивен

 

#66 12 January 2011 02:02:41

Crazy Zoologist
Гость

Re: Сервал, или кустарниковая кошка (Leptailurus serval)

Что-то странное пишут: наш сервал (самка), как пишут, была рождена в природе 14-го апреля 2006 года. Откуда они интересно это знают? Такую точную дату?

 

#67 30 January 2011 23:18:47

Crazy Zoologist
Гость

Re: Сервал, или кустарниковая кошка (Leptailurus serval)

Сервал из Библейского зоопарка:
http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1231/1422421004_3bdac4a822.jpg

 

#68 17 February 2011 14:14:22

McClane
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Re: Сервал, или кустарниковая кошка (Leptailurus serval)

Домашний сервалчик:
http://www.fishki.net/commentall.php?id=83826
smile

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#69 27 February 2011 18:42:22

Metailurus
Без пяти минут зоолог
Откуда: Нижний Новгород
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Сообщений: 1784

Re: Сервал, или кустарниковая кошка (Leptailurus serval)

http://savepic.net/630231.jpg
http://savepic.net/608727.jpg
http://savepic.net/592343.jpg
http://savepic.net/591319.jpg
http://savepic.net/653782.jpg


Убивъ бобра, не наживёшь добра.

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#70 09 April 2011 21:40:28

Crazy Zoologist
Гость

Re: Сервал, или кустарниковая кошка (Leptailurus serval)

http://a6.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/196862_1830787967609_1177670810_31875965_4738709_n.jpg

 

#71 11 July 2011 15:20:58

Peres
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Откуда: Москва
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Re: Сервал, или кустарниковая кошка (Leptailurus serval)

Добрый день. Подскажите пожалуйста,в каком разделе ,можно создать тему о домашнем каракале?


Сейчас у нас 4 собаки, обезьяна, кролик, коати(носуха) , лиса (фенек), скунс, генетта , еж, рыбки.

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#72 11 July 2011 15:59:42

пришелец
Любопытный
Откуда: Новосибирск
Зарегистрирован: 29 November 2010
Сообщений: 36

Re: Сервал, или кустарниковая кошка (Leptailurus serval)

Маленький, но уже показывает свою самостоятельность - мешает маме его вылизывать.
http://img-fotki.yandex.ru/get/4705/k2618.e/0_96292_b8b80b04_XL.jpg
http://img-fotki.yandex.ru/get/4406/k2618.f/0_97405_640e68be_XL.jpg

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#73 11 July 2011 16:30:30

Peres
Любознательный
Откуда: Москва
Зарегистрирован: 08 July 2011
Сообщений: 166

Re: Сервал, или кустарниковая кошка (Leptailurus serval)

Пока нет отдельной темы , про домашнего каракала вот хочу показать наших малышей.
http://radikal.ua/data/upload/4efc3/ba193/f10f31bdd5.jpg  http://radikal.ua/data/upload/4fa6c/49112/db6345a3a1.jpg  http://radikal.ua/data/upload/49112/69fda/901f683d5a.jpg  http://radikal.ua/data/upload/ba193/fb1a9/db122a0425.jpg  http://radikal.ua/data/upload/fb1a9/69fda/991381e2b6.jpg  http://radikal.ua/data/upload/49112/fb1a9/b86b9ebda8.jpg  http://radikal.ua/data/upload/fb1a9/4fa6c/1d5de777e2.jpg  http://radikal.ua/data/upload/ba193/69fda/0a5b829a43.jpg


Сейчас у нас 4 собаки, обезьяна, кролик, коати(носуха) , лиса (фенек), скунс, генетта , еж, рыбки.

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#74 11 July 2011 16:32:28

Peres
Любознательный
Откуда: Москва
Зарегистрирован: 08 July 2011
Сообщений: 166

Re: Сервал, или кустарниковая кошка (Leptailurus serval)

http://radikal.ua/data/upload/6895e/fb1a9/1e1e121e44.jpg  http://radikal.ua/data/upload/4efc3/ba193/21853e6730.jpg  http://radikal.ua/data/upload/c2184/0fccf/ab6246ee30.jpg  http://radikal.ua/data/upload/4fa6c/4fa6c/fe0c299850.jpg  http://radikal.ua/data/upload/fb1a9/c2184/149e24da63.jpg  http://radikal.ua/data/upload/ba193/49112/7d561975e9.jpg  http://radikal.ua/data/upload/0fccf/4efc3/1309b6f926.jpg


Сейчас у нас 4 собаки, обезьяна, кролик, коати(носуха) , лиса (фенек), скунс, генетта , еж, рыбки.

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#75 11 July 2011 16:59:36

Miracinonyx
Любитель животных
Зарегистрирован: 05 December 2006
Сообщений: 19226

Re: Сервал, или кустарниковая кошка (Leptailurus serval)

Peres, у вас еще и пума, что ли? - С ума сойти...
Очень красивые и интересные фото, спасибо.
Что вы собираетесь делать, когла звери вырастут?

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