In Search of the European Wildcat: A Photographic Quest in the Limousin

Some animals belong more to story than to everyday life. They slip between hedgerows at dusk, known only through rumour, tracks in the mud, or a fleeting glimpse from a passing car. In the rolling green hills of the Limousin in central France, one such animal survives: the European wildcat (Felis silvestris silvestris).

For me, the wildcat has long been a creature of fascination. I had read the debates about hybridisation with domestic cats, admired photographs other naturalists had managed to capture, and with the Scottish population now all but depleted, I wondered if I would ever be lucky enough to meet one myself. That chance came not through a fleeting trip, but through something more enduring, owning a holiday home in the Limousin, a place called Le Mas in the village of Saint Priest Palus.

A Base in Wild Country

Le Mas is more than just a retreat. It is my foothold in a landscape where nature still holds sway. The house is surrounded by pastures edged with old hedgerows, and patches of oak, chestnut, and hazel woodland. The rhythm of the countryside here is slow, steady, and alive with signs of wild neighbours: roe deer drifting across fields, foxes trotting down tracks, badgers digging in banks, and pine martens denning in the standing deadwood.

Having a base here gave me a chance most photographers never get: time. Not just days, but seasons. Time to watch how the land changed, how the animals moved, and how the light fell on the same meadow at dawn in June or dusk in November. More than anything, it gave me the chance to put down roots, however temporary, and to let the wildcats reveal themselves in their own time.

Cameras in the Garden

The first real breakthrough didn’t come in a remote forest clearing, but right in my own back garden. I had set trail cameras along the edge of an old hazel hedge that splits the property in two (the garden one side, the field the other) and lines an old green track that goes up to a stand of very old oak trees, a classic wildlife corridor that connects woodland with pasture.

At first the cameras picked up the usual suspects, foxes wandering through, hedgehogs snuffling in the leaf litter, and the neighbour’s cat on its evening patrol. But one morning, scrolling through the night’s footage, my heart jolted. There it was: a broad-headed cat moving along the hedge, its thick tail banded with clean black rings, the tip blunt and dark. A European wildcat, hunting on the very edge of my garden.

That single clip transformed Le Mas for me. My garden was no longer just a place to sip coffee on a sunny morning; it was part of a wildcat’s hunting territory. From that moment, I resolved to learn everything I could about these cats, not just to photograph them but to understand the lives they led among the fields and hedgerows of the Limousin.

However grainy those first trigger camera clips of a European Wildcat in my garden were, they were all the proof I needed to really start to study wildcat behaviour.

Reading the Limousin Landscape

The Limousin is a landscape of gentle hills and small-scale farming, where meadows, hedgerows, and woodlots form a patchwork. It is exactly this mosaic that wildcats need: open ground rich in voles and mice, stitched together with cover that allows them to hunt unseen and retreat at the first sign of danger.

I began by mapping the ground around Le Mas. Which fields held the thickest grass cover? Which hedgerows were widest, oldest, and densest with hazel and bramble? Where did tracks funnel wildlife into narrow points? Over time, patterns emerged. The wildcats, like the foxes and martens, were creatures of edge and transition, favouring the seams where meadow met hedge, where woodland tapered into pasture.

Footprints were few and far between, and scat was equally rare, and when found neither could be taken as proof of the cats territory as hybrids between true wildcats and the semi domestic farm cats were plentiful and there is little to separate the footprint of an errant farm tom and true wild cat. But piece by piece every scat, footprint and sighting of a hybrid, I learnt a little more, and started to feel that I was piecing together a jigsaw of the landscape and the cats that lived in it.

With roughly six hybrids to every true European Wildcat I saw, learning to identify the key differences in shape, markings and behaviour became critical. Having said that these semi wild hybrids (like the one in this photo) can still be a formidable opponent to photograph.

The First Face-to-Face

Evidence on trigger camera was thrilling, but what I longed for was a direct encounter.

It came on 17th August 2018, in a meadow a short walk from the house. The light was fading as I was returning home after being out for a few hours walking the lanes between the hedges, when I spotted something in the field alongside me. At first I thought the shape slipping along the field margin was just another feral tabby. But its body was more solid, its legs longer, its posture purposeful. Most telling of all was the tail; thick, blunt, with clear black rings. My heart jumped into my mouth……. was this really it, a true European Wildcat ?

I quickly dropped to my belly and crawled to a patch of brambles and peered through the foliage. About 50M away the cat had stopped and was staring directly at the thicket I lay behind. My heart thudded. I froze, letting the moment stretch. Slowly, I raised my camera, and fired a bunch of shots. For a few seconds the wildcat and I shared a moment, before it turned and vanished back into the long grass and away from my position.

That single encounter was worth every empty evening, every false lead.

My first, and probably worst image of a European Wildcat! For all its faults and fuzziness, I love this mage as it brings back that surge of excitement, and capture the first time I saw one of our locals.

Watching the Hunter

Once you see a wildcat in hunting mode, you never confuse it with a domestic cousin again. They move with a liquid grace, using every fold of the land as cover.

One afternoon, I watched as a cat slipped from a hedge and dropped instantly low into the grass. Its eyes were fixed on a ripple in the meadow. Step by step it crept forward, each paw placed without sound. Then, in an instant, it launched, an explosive surge of muscle and fur.

This time, it missed. The grass fell silent again, the cat pausing only briefly before resuming its prowl. For the wildcat, success is a numbers game, but the beauty lies in the attempt. To watch it was to glimpse the distilled essence of predator and prey in an old European meadow.

This beauty caught my scent and immediately stopped hunting, flattening her belly to the ground. I quickly moved on, as hunting is tough enough without my presence giving her further cause for concern.

Spring Encounters

Another Spring afternoon I spotted a big cat a field an half away through my binoculars and I was pretty sure by its size and behaviour that it could be a Wildcat. It looked like it was heading along the edge of the small wood between our house and the field, and would in all likelihood have to cross the small road that goes from Le Mas down to the crossroads. Quickly I raced along the path, out of sight, and got myself in position roughly where I thought it would reappear.

Sure enough, less than 5 minutes later it appeared walking along the verge, looking for Bank Voles. It paused, framed perfectly between clumps of grass. Its ears twitched, whiskers pushed forward, every sense alive. For ten heartbeats it stood, unflinching, before melting back into the hedge.

Moments like these, unpredictable, unscripted, are the essence of wildcat watching. They cannot be forced. They come only when you have put in the time, learned the land, and waited patiently for the animal to step into view on its own terms.

Tracks, Signs, and Proof

Over months of watching, the small details became easier to read. A fresh scat left at a crossroads of paths. A faint paw print, round and neat, 3.5 cm wide, pressed into soft soil after rain. The flash of ringed tail caught briefly in the glow of a torch on a trail camera check.

These fragments may seem small, but together they painted a picture of territory, of presence, of continuity. Each was a reminder that I was not chasing ghosts. The wildcat was real, alive, and living its life in the same fields and hedgerows where I walked each day.

The Wildcats Themselves

To the untrained eye, wildcats can look like big tabbies. But the differences, once learned, are stark. Their bodies are stockier, their legs longer. Their coats dense and marked with think lines at the nape. And then there is the tail: thick, blunt, cleanly ringed, with a black tip.

In motion, the distinction is even clearer. Domestic cats dart and flick. Wildcats flow, their bodies low, their strides powerful. When they run, they seem to pour across the land.

Patience and Ethics

My years trying to photograph European Wildcats at Le Mas have taught me more about patience than any other project. There were months when the trigger cameras caught nothing but foxes and martens, weeks when every likely hedge seemed empty. But wildcats are not animals to be rushed. They live in twilight, in secrecy, and only patience will bring them into your world.

Equally important were the ethics. Wildcats are fragile, numbers are low, and the threat of hybridisation is constant. I never used bait, never attempted to lure them. Every photograph came from waiting, from quiet fieldcraft, from respecting their need for space. If there was any risk of disturbance, I stepped back. The mantra never changed: let wildlife reveal itself to you.

A Wild Heart in the Limousin

The Limousin is not often listed among Europe’s great wildlife destinations. But to me, it has become just that. In its quilt of hedgerows, woods, and meadows, the wildcat still survives. To own a home there is to live alongside that survival. From the hazel hedge in my own back garden to the open meadows where dusk reveals green eyes watching, the wildcat has become the emblem of this land for me. A reminder that wildness lingers, if we care to look for it.

Conclusion

The European wildcat remains one of the continent’s most enigmatic predators. To find it here in Saint Priest Palus, around Le Mas, was a personal triumph, but also a humbling reminder. These animals live on their own terms, shaped by centuries of secrecy and survival. They are under massive threat from hybridisation and changes in land use, and as a photographer, my role is not to disturb but to witness. By setting cameras quietly, by walking the land slowly, by watching with patience, I can share proof that the wild is still here, in Saint Priest Palus, it’s hedgerows, and in the folds of the French countryside.

The photographs of crouched hunters in long grass, bold stares from meadow edges, striped tails vanishing into hedges are not trophies. They are stories, fragments of a life still playing out in Europe’s heartland, and to me, they are the greatest gift this land has given.

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European Wildcat FAQ

How rare are European wildcats?

European wildcats are rare and elusive. Populations survive in France, Germany, Eastern Europe, and the Scottish Highlands, but numbers are fragmented and under pressure from habitat loss, roads, and hybridisation with domestic cats.

What time of day are European wildcats active?

They are mostly crepuscular and nocturnal, that is to say most active at dawn and dusk. This is when they hunt rodents and patrol territories, moving silently along field edges and hedgerows.

Where do European wildcats live in Europe?

They favour woodland edges, scrub, and meadows across central and southern Europe, with strongholds in France, Spain, Italy, the Balkans, and parts of Eastern Europe. In the UK, they now survive only in northern Scotland.

What do European wildcats eat?

Their diet is dominated by small mammals (especially voles, mice, and rabbits). They also take birds, reptiles, amphibians, and large insects when available.

What are the differences between European wildcats and domestic cats?

Wildcats are stockier, with longer legs, broader heads, and dense fur. The most reliable feature is the tail, thick, blunt-ended, with clean dark rings and a solid black tip. Their stripes are less neat than a tabby’s, and their behaviour is warier and more powerful.

How can you photograph European wildcats?

Patience and ethics are key. Use trail cameras along hedgerows or sit quietly at woodland edges at dawn or dusk. Long telephoto lenses (300–600mm) allow you to capture natural behaviour without disturbance. Never bait or call, let the wildcat reveal itself to you.