Scottish Wildcat Poem by Denis Martindale

There's somewhere in the British Isles where wildcats choose to roam,
And though we know some pet cats smile, these have no carefree home.
By day and by night, they wander, for predators must eat,
And so, each hour, they ponder, unsure of what they'll meet.
They see the golden sunrise dawn, they see the sunset fade,
They see another night reborn. Who knows if they're afraid?
Yet this I know some live, some die, although the fit survive,
Another season passes by, with many still alive.

For most of us, the weeks can move in ways that seem so fast,
December comes but won't improve the wildcats that still last.
Its days are cold, its nights are cold, and storms may visit, too,
Who knows how each day may unfold and what wildcats must do?
The distant Sun, at Christmastime, means daylight stays so short,
The snow outside may look sublime, but spare wildcats a thought.
Of course, I know a fur coat's good, but is that coat enough?
As wildcats walk their neighbourhood, they see no sign of love.

Man encroaches on woodland scenes with profits on his mind,
Big companies know what this means when contracts can get signed.
The trees get cut, the land lays bare, erosion takes its toll,
Some folks get rich, but they don't care. They've lost all self-control.
And there may be a future price that taxes can't atone!
The woodlands left help us think twice! Some things God won't condone!
No wonder governments must act to conserve what they can!
Restrictions act upon the fact that God's still watching Man!


Denis Martindale, for the 9th of December 2024.


The poem is about the magnificent close-to-home painting
by UK wildlife artist Stephen Gayford called Scottish Wildcat.