All that Fluff: Elusive Pallas’s Cats and Their Kittens

Photo Story Published : Oct 21, 2022 Updated : Sep 30, 2023
The Pallas’s cat is a magnificent yet rarely-seen high-altitude feline. To his delight, a wildlife photographer is able to spot this elusive creature near Hanle in Ladakh
All that Fluff: Elusive Pallas’s Cats and Their Kittens
The Pallas’s cat is a magnificent yet rarely-seen high-altitude feline. To his delight, a wildlife photographer is able to spot this elusive creature near Hanle in Ladakh

On a chilly August 2022 afternoon, wildlife photographer Dhritiman Mukherjee crouches behind a pile of rocks outside an abandoned hut in Hanle, a village in a high-altitude valley in Ladakh. This is unusual for Mukherjee, who usually travels through wildernesses to photograph his wild subjects. This time a local has tipped him off about the nocturnal and extraordinarily rare Pallas’s cat (Otocolobus manul) that has been frequenting this touristy village in bright daylight. He aims his camera at the hut’s red window and waits.

Most photographers and researchers will tell you that the Pallas’s cat, a high-altitude feline with luxurious fur, a somewhat grumpy face, and owl-like eyes, is frustratingly hard to spot. The cat is found in the region from the Caspian Sea eastward through Pakistan, Afghanistan, Kazakhstan and northern India, China, Russia, and Mongolia. Across its range, it moves like a ghost, its russet or silver coat camouflaging effortlessly against the rocky habitat. “One moment you see it, and the next it’s gone,” says Mukherjee. It doesn’t help that the cat is solitary by nature, and small numbers are sparsely distributed across vast landscapes. In Mongolia, where the cat is known to have a stronghold, its density averages at only four to eight cats every 100 km. 

The cat is so elusive that the earliest record in Ladakh is from 1971 and in Sikkim as late as 2005. In 2019, it was recorded in Uttarakhand’s Nelong Valley for the first time. “It is probably one of the least studied and documented felines in the country,” says wildlife biologist Neeraj Mahar, who spent five years studying wetlands in Ladakh, but had only four sightings of the cat. “It is also the cutest.”

Over the last decade, Mukherjee has made five trips to Ladakh to photograph the cat and failed. But in Hanle, he holds on to hope. 

Hanle is an ancient settlement in the Ladakh Valley, popular as the location for India’s highest astronomical observatory. Sitting at 4,500 metres above sea level, it is a unique mosaic of microhabitats. In winter, it is covered in sparkling snow, but in summer, the snow melts to feed gurgling streams and saline marshes. “The rocky mountain that leads to the observatory has plenty of cracks and crevices and is an ideal hideout for the cat. The marshes, and areas around them, have abundant prey such as vole and pika,” says Mahar. For years, the Pallas’s cat has thrived between the marsh and the mountain, raising young, fluffier versions of itself. The cats breed from March to April, and the kittens stay with the mother for another 4-5 months.

As Mukherjee waits in his hide, two alert ears and sparking yellow eyes peek out of the window. A fat, furry body with stocky legs follows. Its fur blends in with the browns of the mud-thatched hut. Its cheeks are the shade of the white limestone plastered on the walls. The elusive Pallas’s cat, locally known as riblik or Tak-shan, has made an appearance in the most unlikely places. 

The cat usually shelters in rock crevices or abandoned burrows of another furry neighbour, the Himalayan marmot. These shelters or dens are critical for its survival. Himalayan wolves, raptors and dogs from Hanle hunt down cats and their litters. In the most secure dens, females give birth to a litter of about five or six. Then, what is this cat doing in a hut?
Mahar offers a theory during a phone interview. Hanle shares a complex relationship with the wild, he says. The locals and the wild coexist, mostly peacefully, but a rising human population that mainly consists of tourists, military personnel and construction workers, has led to more garbage on which stray dogs now thrive. Growing numbers of aggressive stray dogs in this region have emerged as a more urgent threat to the Pallas’s cat and other wildlife than other predators. “I have seen over 200 free-ranging dogs frequenting the Hanle area,” says Mahar. “It is likely that the cat has taken refuge in the abandoned house to protect herself and her kittens from them.”  
Every day, at about 11 am, she sets out on a hunt. With short, stocky legs, the Pallas’s cat cannot chase its prey, but uses various methods to hunt. It strategizes, creeps slowly, moving close to the ground using the grass and rocks as cover until it can pounce. “Often, we’d see it stick its tail in the air and shake it like a rattlesnake, probably to distract prey,” says Mukherjee. The cat may move relatively swiftly through the grass to catch prey by surprise and “flush” it out. On other occasions, it waits patiently at the entrance of an unsuspecting rodent’s burrow and ambushes it when it pops out.
Dripping wet, the mother cat looks smaller. Pallas’s cats are the size of domestic cats, but their grizzled, abundant coat makes them look heavier. Their belly fur is twice as long as the rest of their fur, and their fat tails wrap around like a muffler during freezing weather. 
“When the cat carried the vole back to the hut, we were sure there must be kittens inside,” says Mukherjee. The hut’s owner confirmed that the cat was raising two kittens inside. He had deliberately stayed away from the storehouse for a few months to give them privacy. For Mukherjee, who has been photographing the wild for 20 years, photographing the Pallas’s cat at such close quarters was a joy. Little did he know, this wasn’t the only sighting of his trip. “Imagine my surprise when we were tipped off that there was another cat around the corner,” says Mukherjee.  
On the rocky outcrops towards the observatory, Mukherjee saw another pudgy kitten cautiously stepping out of its den. It nervously sniffed the air, tested the slopes, and looked for predators. Its russet fur with dark stripes camouflaged against the browns and ochres of the barren Ladakhi landscape. As kittens age, they moult or lose their fur, which is replaced with thick silver-tipped fur that gives them a frosted appearance.
The kitten repeatedly turned around to stare at Mukherjee, registering his presence and gauging if there was a threat. The Pallas’s cat is not a quick runner. Instead, when it senses danger, it lays stock-still, flat on its stomach. Its thick underfur is possibly an adaptation to cushion it against the frozen ground.  
A few hours later, its mother appears with a treat — a vole. But despite feeding on the kill, the kitten wants its mother’s milk. Males play no role in raising the kittens. Kittens stay within the dens, under their mother’s supervision, until they are two months old. At three to four months, they start following the mother to hunt. 
“The excited kitten then got busy playing. It would tap the mother with its little paw and jump mischievously on her back,” says Mukherjee. Though play may seem like mischief, it is part of the learning behaviour of wild cats as they grow independent. The kittens reach adult size and weight aged 4-5 months and leave the maternal den. 


About the contributors

Radhika Raj

Radhika Raj

is a features writer with Roundglass Sustain. When she is not chasing stories, she is busy fantasizing about building a pottery studio in the hills

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Dhritiman Mukherjee

Dhritiman Mukherjee

is one of India's most prolific wildlife and conservation photographers. His work has been featured in leading publications. He is also a RoundGlass Ambassador, and an RBS Earth Hero awardee.
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