What inspired me to write the Ratha series

The wonder, majesty, and terror of Earth's life, as embodied in cats, both large and small. The flashing beauty of the cheetah in the chase, the arch of the mountain lion's spring, and the quivering of flesh as two huge male lions rebound from each other in a fight. The fossils that speak of cats and cat-like creatures millions of years dead, yet alive and stalking in human minds. The small cats in my life who bring the jungle into the living room, who stalk and pounce on my emotions and deliver an alien but deep love.

The human minds who have created and recreated cats in words and between pages, fiction and non-fiction. Joy Adamson's Elsa and Pippa recline beside Bagheera, Kipling's great black panther. I wanted so badly to be Mowgli, who was privileged to rest against that velvet side and hear the deep rumbling voice, so fierce and so wise.

Even more, I wanted to be Bagheera, to escape the Bandar-log taint of the human world. To swipe it away with the stroke of a paw, to yawn at it with curled tongue and white shining teeth, and then pad away like a mystery, leaving awe behind.

That was a child's dream, with a child's anger. That child grew up to become part of the human world and the anger became an energy directed at changing the bad things about it, such as war, starvation, hate, greed, cruelty, despoiling and destruction. Perhaps some of that energy did actually cause some small changes.

I can't say exactly what created Ratha and her world. I walk inside her skin, look out through her eyes, feel the muscles that retract and extend her claws. I live her struggles with the tyrant Shongshar and she lives with mine against an unfair and unjust Iraq war and those who grow fat on it. She tries to befriend Thistle-chaser and I try to do the same with an uncertain and equally prickly young stepchild. I stroke my kitty Athena and she nuzzles Ratharee, her treeling.

And if readers can experience Ratha as I have, it is a great joy.

Stay on this trail -- there will be more.

CB

Count-down

I'm both excited and nervous today, since the first two novels in the Ratha series will be released on July 19, 2007, which is only two days away. Ratha first saw print in hardcover in 1983, and Clan in 1984. That is more than a decade, which boggles my mind. I really don't feel 20-odd years older than the eager 29-year old who saw her book in print for the first time (and had to be peeled off the ceiling!)

Ratha is back because she survived in the hearts of readers. She wasn't more successful the first time out because the world wasn't ready for her ("A book about a talking big cat? Who wants to read something like that?"). When she and the clan faded from view in the 90's, I mourned them, but gathered up my life and went on to other things.

Now because of movies such as The Lion King and series such as Warriors, the world is ready. Ratha has survived because she inspired love and loyalty in her readers. Now she is ready to run again and be recognized for the pioneer that she was and still is.

She was created out of love and passion and that is the reason she and the clan still survive.
Long may they flourish!

Thank you, Ratha fans, thank you Firebird Books, Sharyn November and her Internet teen readers, endless thank-you's to all whose devotion got these books back in print. Yes, I did write another Ratha, (Ratha's Courage), but you gave me the opportunity.

Yes, I'm nervous, a bit scared, rejoicing, impatient, and more. Ideally I would have done much more preparation and publicity, but for various reasons it didn't happen, although I have done quite a bit and learned a terrific amount.


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Two-way Clicker Communication

Clicker Communication from primate (human) to cat:

This morning, I and my gray female kitty, Athena did a clicker session together. Most people, including its originator, Karen Pryor, call this activity clicker-training. I prefer clicker communication or interaction, since it is not just about teaching a cat tricks. It is, as Pryor notes in her book, Clicker-Training for Cats, a wonderful way to communicate with another species. Athena knows that if I ask her to do something, by means of either voice or hand signal, and she does it, she gets a click, which signals a food reward. The click comes from a hand-held device that I press with my thumb.

(See Pryor's website)

Athena often asks me to do a session by patting my face gently, then running into the room we use. She then "offers behavior" to get me to click and treat. She goes to home base, which is right on top of her scratch-post cat tower. It is about chair-seat height. I click and treat her for that.

She knows how to target, i.e. follow the end of a capped ballpoint stick pen. Often we do "around the world" which is hopping from home to a chair then to a desk, then back home. If I stand back and give her free run, she will often go to her cat carrier, open the (unlatched) door and enter. That earns her a treat.

If I hold a hand palm-down and flat over her head or ask her to sit, she will (after a little feline deliberation). She also will target up, lifting her forepaws in a "sit pretty", or sometimes standing on her hind legs and pawing the target stick, looking like a circus lion or tiger.

"Cat athletics" is jumping over or crawling under a board propped in my narrow hallway. I make sure that it doesn't fall and alarm her.

When she wants to end a session, she sits and washes her face.







Some people feel that a cat is "above" learning tricks and that teaching them is demeaning. For Athena and me working with the clicker is great fun. If I am busy, she will often pester me for a session, but she is so sweet about it that I don't mind.
If we don't do a clicker session for a few days, she still remembers everything.

(I don't know what breed or mix she is. I adopted her as a tiny kitten from a shelter. She matches some of the breed standards for a Korat, or perhaps a Russian Blue. I personally think she is a Korat or Korat mix. What do you think?)

Thinking up new things to teach her is often challenging, but fun for both of us. Sometimes she gets an idea, then "offers" it to me.


In reverse: from cat to primate (lemur):

Ratha and the Named keep small lemur-like animals called "treelings" as companions and helpers. In Clan Ground, Thakur, the herding teacher for the clan, teaches his treeling Aree various tasks. He gives the animal spoken commands and nudges it gently with his nose. He clicks his teeth together to get its attention, and purrs to show that he is pleased. He rewards Aree with licks and nuzzles.

This is not clicker-training in the exact sense, but borrows from the idea. Dolphin trainers have used similar reward-based method using whistles and that was in use when I wrote Clan Ground in 1983-84. The idea of clicker-training was just starting among dog trainers back then, although I have no idea how I got hold of it. Maybe Thakur just invented the Named version.

From pp. 110-111 of Clan Ground, here Thakur is, teaching Aree in stages how to build and tend a a small flame of the Red Tongue.

He took the stick and placed it in the fire.... He moved slowly, letting Aree follow everything he did. When the stick was in place, he picked it up in his jaws, took it out and replaced it carefully. Once he was sure the treeling understood, he put the stick back in the fire again, but instead of grasping it with his teeth, he used his pawpad.

The wood only rolled under his clumsy swipes. With an impatient chirp, the treeling reached underneath Thakur's foreleg, seized the stick and pulled it out. With a gesture almost like a flourish, Aree presented him with the stick as if to say, "This isn't so hard if you have paws like mine. See?"

Thakur licked the treeling until he was damp and rubbed against him until Aree's coat was thoroughly rumpled....

Aree learned rapidly and was soon responding correctly to Thakur's directions. He found that the sharp sound he made by clicking his teeth together would command the treeling's attention faster than would spoken words.

Soon Aree could extract a branch from the fire and walk around on three legs, holding the lighted torch.

I'll bet the pioneering clicker-trainers never imagined something like this!

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Ratha and Author Play "Mud-kitty"

My hubby, Chuck, and I installed a new spring-box yesterday. We live in a remote area west of Patterson, CA, and we get our water from a spring on our land. We have a mountain just in back of the place and the spring is way-the-hell-and-gone up the mountain. Water from the spring flows into a collection box, then into a sedimentation box (where all the sand and grit and so forth settles out), then into three water tanks located downhill from the spring. A line down the mountain gives us fresh water at high pressure (try 120 psi) that supplies the household and hoses to fight wildfires if needed.

Due to age and lack of rainfall in the area (an effect of climate change/global warming, probably) our water reserve has been falling. We decided to dig out behind the spring and enlarge the box. Because of the location, we have to do the digging by hand. Chuck's son, Heath, did most of the excavation, creating a muddy pit behind the existing spring-box.

Since I don't mind getting completely soaked in our canyon's plus-100 dry heat (which enables cooling by evaporation), I took over the final phase of the excavation, sitting in the water using a garden cultivating tool and trowel to go down the remaining one-foot depth. Since it was sandy, gravelly, relatively "clean" dirt, I just took my shoes off and plunged in. Since there was no shade on the excavation, I used the few inches of water in the bottom to soak my cotton pants and shirt while flinging muddy gravel out with a shovel, the trowel and my hands. I even rolled in it when my clothes started to dry off.

I became aware that I was getting incredibly dirty by the grin on Chuck's face. Even my glasses were spattered and don't even ask about the hair, although I do wear a hat. I made jokes about piggies in wallows and mud puppies. The water, however, kept me cucumber-cool and I didn't shed sweat like my poor hubby, who was digging on the drier ground. I invited him to join me, but for some reason he declined. Guess he's not the amphibious type. He also tolerates heat better than I do.

I believe that the secret of getting something done is to get as comfortable as possible while doing it. And in 106-degree dry California heat, it is hard. But, by playing "mud-puppy", or, rather, "mud-kitty" I managed to work the whole day and we got the installation done.

I had so much fun that I volunteered to do it again if needed (we may develop another spring).

Then I thought of the passage in my book Clan Ground, where Ratha, Thakur, and others of the Named dig the ditch they use to flood Shongshar's evil fire-den. They do this in the rainy season, so everything is mucky. On my knees in the water, scooping up gravel with one cupped hand while supporting myself on the other, I thought of Ratha, exhausted, soaking wet and dirty, pawing rocks and dirt from the bottom of the trench.

Here's Ratha playing "mud-kitty" (but not enjoying it as much as I did). This is from Clan Ground, pp 238-239, the new Firebird Books paperback (release date July 19, 2007!) Any typos in this are from the author entering the text. Thakur is the clan's herding teacher and Ratharee is a treeling, a lemur-like animal that the Named cats keep as pets and companions.

Overhead, the clouds grumbled and the rain began. At first it was light and helped by softening the ground so that the work went faster. As it grew into a pelting downpour, the bottom of the trench became a bog. The diggers fought to keep their footing on the slick clay and frequently fell into puddles or accidentally spattered each other with the pawfuls of mud they flung aside. Their small companions began to look less like treelings and more like soggy mudballs.

At the end of the day, Ratha would crawl shivering from the trench, her coat soaked, her underside and flanks grimy with clay and gravel. Once she was under shelter, Ratharee made an a determined attempt to groom her, but the treeling often so exhausted that she fell asleep when she had barely begun. Ratha was so tired that she didn't care.

The work grew more difficult and task seemed endless. Sometimes Ratha, in her haze of fatigue, couldn't remember what the purpose of it was. She felt as though she had spent her life scraping away at this wretched hole and would do so for the rest of her existence. When at last Thakur leaned down into the trench again and cried "Stop!," she paid no attention to him and kept on digging mechanically until water began seeping through gravel and soil at her feet.

She felt Thakur drop into the ditch beside her, seize her scruff and shake her. "Ratha, stop! We're finished. If you go any farther, the water-path will flood before we're ready."

She blinked, trying to pull herself out of her daze. She scrambled out of the trench after Thakur and saw that he was right. Only the remaining thin wall of earth held back the stream. When the time came, they would dig at the embankment to weaken it until it broke, sending the flow down the spillway, into the hollow and down the cracks that vented the cave below. The cave-fire would perish in a rush of water, and those who tended it would be swept away.

Despite her exhaustion, Ratha felt a surge of triumph. She was ready. Now all that remained was to wait.

(end of chapter 18)

I've played "mud-kitty" many times in various projects, so I imagine I used some of that experience on Ratha. Not that she necessarily appreciates it, however. Yes, I took a long shower afterward.

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