Fisher: First Encounter

I first saw a fisher in the summer of 2004. The dogs and I were outside in the late afternoon when an animal that looked like an otter came rippling-running along the driveway toward, and quickly up, a maple tree at the edge of the front yard.

Fishers' other name, "bearcats" is apt. Their little heads look just like tiny black bears' and their tails are exactly like a very fat fluffy cat tail. This one did not seem pleased by our attention and his tail was lashing from side to side in Angry Feline rhythm.

Years before, I had seen a PBS broadcast about fishers, but that show hadn't highlighted (or I hadn't remembered) the fact that they are about as vicious as any animal can be. So there we all were, walking around and around the tree to get a good look, from all angles, at this thing that was perched among the tree limbs. I was taking pictures from ten feet below him and he stared back and growled at me with a raccoon-like churr.

Marly and Angus were waiting patiently for it to come down.

After long enough, I got the dogs all inside. When I checked an hour later, our fisher had left the tree.

If I had known then what I now know, we would have let him have the tree, the yard, the fields, to himself until he decided to go on his way.