Sometimes I consider myself paranoid walking up to the car in the morning. I leave the house for work early, usually well before sunrise, and walk a hundred-fifty-feet up twenty-five stone steps to the driveway. I swivel my light and perk my ears. I never stroll up with a carefree saunter, at least not before daylight. I have written about this before (see Sigh of Relief), so I will not belabor my angst here.
I have a trail cam that I set out around the property just to see who wanders by. I have photos of squirrels, mice, deer, elk, skunks, rabbits, raccoons, coyotes, songbirds, magpies, wild turkeys, foxes, and bears. I have also seen our dog out on unsupervised walks. Whenever I bring the camera card in and load it onto the computer, I always hope to have a photo of a mountain lion, but have always been disappointed… until this week.
This series of three photos was captured last Wednesday evening a mere stone’s cast from the back door of our house.
The mountain lion is known by many other names depending on region. These include cougar, puma, panther, or the one I prefer, catamount (cat of the mountain). Whatever you want to call them, they are at the top of the food chain where I live.
I have been walking this path for thirty years. If they wanted me, I’m sure they would have taken me by now.