Big cat

Well, we can call the whole project off now: I saw the one thing I really really wanted to see while out here in the wilderness!  Just kidding…about calling it off anyhow.

I really badly wanted to see a mountain lion.  They just seem so wild, and wily, and mysterious, and regal, and independent, and beautiful, and strong, and…and so darn reclusive.  We have seen many cat tracks out here, and followed them along trails in the dust, and in the snow.  We have heard stories, and seen places that look so, well, cat-like that you just have to imagine a big cat must be watching from somewhere just over the ledge where you can’t see it, but it can certainly see you.  But we had not yet seen hide or hair of the real thing.

It was just a few  days ago, that I set out with Kea (the golden retriever we are companioning while caretaking at Taylor Ranch) for a good old energy-burning hike up the steep benches to our north.  We had lofty goals of reaching the high ridge beyond in quick time, and gazing out over the wide view you have from way up there, while burning a few extra amps of energy on the steep miles to get there.  We set out full of conviction and scampered along the trail (or more realistically: scampered, huffed-and-puffed, wheezed, scampered some more, played rounds of tag and keep-away, panted…) until we got just beyond the first bench.  We were rounding the corner to the steep gully into the second bench when motion caught both our eyes.  A bald eagle flapped close and large out of the gully, and we were both distracted by the graceful flight of the huge bird as it flew by on our level, about 20 yards away, before noticing a second flash of movement.  This time it was the tawny and sinuous body of a mountain lion as it leap off of something in the grass about 100 yards away and bounded towards a scree slope.  Not quite grasping what I was seeing, I grabbed Kea with a firm arm around her chest and we both sank to our haunches to watch.  I breathed “cougar!” and could hardly believe my eyes as the cat reappeared from behind a clump of trees, picking its graceful way up the scree with the dignity and agility only a cat could possess.  

We watched until it was out of sight, and then wheeled around and churned back down the trail, leaping over rocks and running pellmell all the way back to the cabin where we grabbed Isaac and he grabbed the camera, and we all (more quietly now, and without Kea) retraced our steps back up the mountain where we staked out our blind and watched and waited to see if the cat would return.  It turns out it had a freshly caught bighorn ewe it had been eating, and though it never did return for the rest of the feast, we were able to film several coyotes, some eagles, and many entertaining ravens and magpies.  We spent the rest of that afternoon into evening, and the next morning watching, and waiting.