Unforgiving
My friend Bob Wiesner, who lives in Missoula, sends messages and photos that allow me to keep in touch with Montana wildlife and of course with cougars. I have tracked numerous cougars with him several years ago when I was researching material for my novel, Cougar Corridor. During all seasons of the year Bob is the person that Montana Department of Fish, Wildlife and Parks contacts when people report the presence of a potential human-wildlife conflict between mountain lions or bears near their home or in their neighborhood. Bob’s primary job is to educate people concerning wildlife issues and additionally he may have to trap or tree the problem animal with his hounds. Then the animal is anaesthetized, marked, and relocated to a remote location where it is released again into the wild. In some cases the animal may be euthanized if there is no better alternative. Each case is considered individually and the final solution is what is best for both wildlife and humans.
I sometimes regret that I do not live closer to Montana where I would have a chance to accompany Bob during his outings. Additionally, during the winter season, when Bob is not working for MFWP, it is his pleasure to search for fresh cougar tracks and - with the help of his hounds - pursue the mountain lion in order to pressure the cat to seek refuge in a tree so he can admire and photograph the large cat. I also suspect that Bob likes to feel the flow of adrenalin in his body because he frequently climbs closer to the lion in the tree in order to obtain a better angle or closer photograph.
Bob sometimes makes unexpected discoveries too while in the mountains. Recently, he was searching Gold Creek and Belmont Creek areas of the Blackfoot River on his snowmobile, while surveying for wolf tracks. He came upon 3 - 5 wolf tracks in deep snow that moved along a forest road for about 5 miles. A large male cougar track also entered the road, moving in the same general direction as the wolves.
Photo: Orwan Smith
“I came around a bend in the road,” Bob said , ”and saw ravens and eagles on a dead cow moose 300 to 400 yards above the road on the hillside. The male lion killed the moose and was feeding upon it for several days when the wolves appeared and drove the lion from his meal”.
Later Bob continued his snowmobile route and surprised a mature female lion that was lying nearby as he opened the gate to another forest road. The lion tentatively stalked away parallel to the road. However, Bob, in his curiosity, followed the lion on his snowmobile whereupon she ran a short distance and climbed a tree where Bob took several pictures of her.
The next day Bob returned to the area with two friends, Don Dodge and Sandra Johnson, both of whom are familiar with cougars (she has written a book about them). They found the carcass of another cougar victim - a white tail deer. A 40 pound cougar kitten was feeding on the carcass when Bob released both of his hounds and the young cougar - which was unable to run for a long distance when pursued by hounds - climbed a tree after about a 200 yards chase. Shortly afterwards, the cougar changed its mind and leaped from the tree only to be ”bayed up” on the ground under a Douglas Fir tree where Sandra Johnson is pictured admiring the feline from a short distance away.
Photo: Bob Wiesner
I’ve also had - thanks to Bob and his friends - the privilege of admiring cougars in their natural environment in Montana. And watching this image, I feel coming back to me all the emotion that such a magnificent and secretive animal can trigger. After a while, Bob, Sandra and Don leashed up the hounds and the young cougar withdrew into the dark, snow covered woods.
When a pack of wolves enter into competition with a solitary cougar the wolves will often take the kill away from the lion (displace it). Cougars, even the mature large males cannot ward off a pack of wolves and are forced to retreat or seek refuge in a tree. This in turn forces the cougar to search and kill prey at a faster rate than what it normally would do because it has lost its food source. Wolves and mountain lions are natural enemies and are constantly at competition with one another. On the other hand, a single cougar will have the upper hand with a single wolf at a kill site and may even eliminate its competitor as illustrated by this picture, taken by Bryan McCravy (another lion specialist in Montana), of a wolf that was killed and eaten by a cougar.
Photo: Bryan McCravy
The photos of this story were taken on different days and in different places. They serve to illustrate how wolves and cougars relate to one another in a wild state and how that interaction can be total and unforgiving.
A review in the Eastern Cougar Foundation
Book Review: COUGAR CORRIDOR
By Florian Rochat. (2009: in French) Paperback, 235 pages. Publisher: Le Passage. Reviewed by Dr. Lucina Hernández, Director, Rice Creek Field Station/Assistant Professor, Department of Biological Sciences, SUNY Oswego, Oswego, NY
As a scientist with experience with terrestrial mammalian predators, including the cougar, I was curious to see how the topic of mountain lions was approached in a novel. With surprise and satisfaction, I learned that Florian Rochat has addressed the important and complex topics of predation and conservation in manner understandable to the public. Admirably, he does this without putting aside scientific information. Instead, he uses it to build a masterpiece. He puts his finger on the center of the problem of conserving many species–habitat fragmentation due to urbanization and ex-urbanization. To illustrate the problem, Rochat choose one species that here, in North America, faces this problem–the cougar.
In this scientifically well documented book, Rochat explains in an easy manner the facts of cougar biology, in particular dispersion. He explains why cougars need to travel long distances and why sometimes it is possible to see a cougar close to urban areas.
The book is passionate from the first page to the end; the author keeps the reader connected to the plot. Every day while I was reading the book, I told my husband John Laundré, who is a researcher of cougars, how interesting it was and that it provides important information to the public.
Even though the book is about the conflict between humans and cougars, other top predators, such as wolves and bears, also have the same conflicts with humans. COUGAR CORRIDOR is excellent in helping people understand the dimensions of human activities as they affect the conservation of these animals. This is amply displayed when the author talks about the everyday-more-frequent-desire of people to live close to wild and natural areas while failing to see that at the same time they are destroying and fragmenting the wilderness, destroying habitat for wildlife, and sooner or later may face close encounters with wild animals such as cougars (Page 30). The discussion of the cougar’s attack on a young man was especially poignant regarding this sensitive and often over-exaggerated area of human-cougar conflicts. Usually, cougars are the ones who suffer the most in these interactions.
Lucina Hernandez with her husband John Laundré and an anaestetized cougar
It is unfortunate that this country, where we are producing important scientific information about cougars, is the same country that doesn’t want to use this valuable information to protect it. This is especially true for the endangered eastern cougar and Florida panther. We in United States are facing the consequences of the new urban development that affects one species when we lose wild habitat for the benefit of a few people. The cougar symbolizes the last bastion of real wilderness. The fact that the cougars still exist in some places means that we have a healthy ecosystems there, with all their parts–flora and fauna (Page 30).
As Michael Dupuis (one of the characters in the book) states: “We should consider that wildlife and wild areas on the Earth have the right to continue wild and our society has the obligation to protect and conserve it” (Page 223). I hope that this book helps people understand the value of cougars and motivates the public to protect them. Rochat not only puts the problem on the table, he gives us the solution—conservation of natural corridors for this species and others—hence, the title of the book. I recommend this book not only for the general public but also to undergraduate and graduate students of different disciplines who can analyze conflicts concerning the conservation of a predator. I also strongly encourage the author and publisher to consider translating this excellent book into Spanish and English so the North Americans outside of Quebec can read the important message Rochat so eloquently presents.
**********
Editor’s Note: Florian Rochat has lived in Switzerland all his life but has travelled to the US many times as a foreign correspondent and during vacations. He told me,” The idea of my novel came in 1992 with an article by Maurice Hornocker on mountain lions in The National Geographic which fascinated me. This led me to read the handful of general public books on cougars, then to interview Ken Logan in Moscow (Idaho) and Rich DeSimone (Montana) in 1999.” Rich allowed him to participate in his project in the Garnett Range of Montana during the following two years. Rochat continues, “ I tracked and collared lions with him and his aides. I explain all that on the “Making of” part of my blog”.
Rochat’s blog, http://www.cougarcorridor.com/, includes the link to a YouTube video of his work in Montana. A long passage is translated into English here - http://www.cougarcorridor.com/wordpress/?p=219
Marc Gauthier, whose pheromone lures have documented the presence of a few cougars in Quebec and New Brunswick, said this in his review on amazon.ca: “Having tracked cougars myself in this area of Montana and being closely interested in this species, I found this novel by Florian Rochat in the same time realistic, well researched and fascinating. Must be read by all those interested in environmental and conservation issues.”
The book is not available from amazon.com in the US but can be ordered from the Canadian branch of amazon.com - http://www.amazon.ca/Cougar-corridor-Florian-Rochat/dp/2847421335/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1259675096&sr=1-1The cost, including shipping, to my home in West Virginia, is about $40.00 USD.
COUGAR CORRIDOR needs to be published in English and Spanish so that people in North America can benefit from Rochat’s writing. Rochat has located an English translator and is looking for a publisher. If any of you readers have suggestions, please contact Rochat at flrochat@bluewin.ch
Excerpts in English
The story
A desolate homestead in Montana, one fine summer’s morning…
A sudden scream in the still air, the shadow of an animal vanishing without a sound, and the corpse of young Phil Bardgett, a big red hole where his face used to be.
Michael Dupuis suspects something. Cougars are plentiful in the region, but the wild open spaces vital for their survival are disappearing, just like the lands of his Indian ancestors, long ago…
But what could have driven one of these wild beasts to look for prey in the back yard of a house?
Things begin to move very quickly: Michael’s friend Julie Bouchard, a French ecologist, is more determined than ever to implement her project of creating corridors that will keep humans and predators well apart…
But it won’t be long before she herself has a brush with the worst kind of death.
After all, her initiative is getting in the way of a powerful property developer…
Cougar Corridor may well be the only novel so far dedicated to mountain lions and the critical issue of wildlife habitat. The 5 articles below are excerpts translated from French.
“Cougar Corridor” Excerpt from Chapter 1
Phil Bardgett pulled the strap of his bag over the shoulder of his Yankees jacket, slammed the door behind him, and ran towards the bike that was leaning against the wall between the house and the garage, just under the basketball net.
The sun, on this early morning in July, was already high in the sky and light flooded the central chain of the Rocky Mountains. Like the days before it, this one promised to be a scorcher and Phil and his friends had agreed to start baseball practice early. His team was scheduled to play Bigfork this fall in the Montana school championships and victory was far from certain. The teenager was late. He climbed on his bike, pushed down on the right pedal, then uttered a muffled curse. The damned chain was always slipping. Phil propped his bike back against the wall and knelt to fix it. There were no witnesses to what happened next. From start to finish, it was as quick as a flash of lightning. Not a sound. Not a cry. Just the song of nearby birds. Then, a short while later, screams tore the still air. A range of strident, hoarse cries, at times strangled.
Susan Bardgett, Phil’s mother, was standing at the open kitchen window, immobile, her hands at her temples, her eyes frantic. She had left the breakfast table to make sure the boy was wearing his helmet before he set off to pedal at top speed, as he always did, down the gravel road that led into the valley. From her viewpoint overlooking the garden, Susan saw the figure of an animal obscuring a body lying on the ground. An arm flailed frantically in a desperate reflex to protect itself.
It took Susan Bardgett two or three seconds to understand what was happening right there before her eyes. Time enough for her brain to translate the horror that had captured her gaze. Her scream caused the wild animal to leave the garden with a fluid movement. Its departure was so quick, so stealthy, and so ethereal, that the young woman thought for a moment that it had all been a hallucination.
Then she saw Phil, his body slightly askew, his arms now crossed. His head angled strangely from the rest of his body. But what mesmerized Susan was the large red hole where her son’s face had been. She opened her mouth to scream again but no sound emerged.
Translated by Alison Anderson and Reagan Salais
“Cougar Corridor” Excerpt from Chapter 3
But what could have made that lion come all the way into the courtyard of the house and attack this kid ?
In the big bed facing the window, Julie turned onto her right side and pressed herself against Michael, resting her head on his shoulder. Michael Dupuis sighed and wedged a pillow under his head. He ran his index finger along the base of his companion’s neck to her shoulder. Then he gently continued down the length of her arm towards her waist until his finger rebounded with grace on her hip. Beyond the room’s partly opened curtains, a gentle breeze shook a stand of birch trees where two appaloosas grazed, the white horses with black spots that had traditionally belonged to the Nez Percé tribe. A little farther in the distance, the prairie widened to form a broad circle dominating the lake. It was late afternoon and, while still high in the sky, the sun had veered west and the air had once again become so clear that on the opposite side of the valley one could faintly discern the last snowfall on the tallest peaks of the Rockies.
Michael thought about Julie’s question. He knew that she had a good grasp of the problems facing mountain lion habitat, particularly those caused by human encroachment into the lions territory. In California, Julie Bouchard had become involved in the political and judicial aspects of this problem, but she had never had the opportunity to study the animal’s temperament and behavior. Naturally Michael knew the answer to this question, but an introduction seemed necessary beforehand.
“If you ask the people who were traumatized by this event, some of them will tell you that its proof of negligence on the part of the authorities who are supposed to be in charge of controlling the movements of the mountain lions into populated areas. As far as they’re concerned, we should get rid of any mountain lion - or bear, or lynx, while were at it - that shows even the tip of its nose less than a mile from a house. “Others will simply say that it was an accident inherent in the wild nature of a carnivorous animal who, after all, belongs in this wilderness where we’ve decided to live. But you see, both are wrong because they are basing their arguments on a human vision of nature - in other words, on a value judgment. But nature has nothing human about it. It acts only out of necessity. And so does the mountain lion.”
For the past few hours, everyone in the valley had been talking about the death of Phil Bardgett, and ancestral and irrational fears had revived all the ambiguity towards the cohabitation of man and big cat. To be sure, the mountain lion - or cougar, also known more elegantly in the Rockies as felis concolor - regularly showed its presence in the western part of Montana by hunting close to inhabited areas. Michael thought about some of the incidents which had stayed in his memory: a llama near Bozeman; two calves in the high summer pastures above Hot Springs; a poodle in Dixon; five or six sheep north of Kalispell; still other dogs elsewhere; chickens and cats. On the whole, the outcome of these crimes was insignificant enough.
“But when was the last attack on a human?” Julie asked.
“Nineteen-eighty-nine. A young boy, also near a village north of Missoula. Everyone around here remembers. Probably because this type of accident is rare. Very rare!” Michael said almost angrily. “Dogs, cattle, and bees are actually much more dangerous. Don’t laugh! They cause hundreds of deaths across the country. In Montana alone, I’m sure that four or five ranchers are gored every year by cattle. They’re terrible accidents but they rarely get more than a few lines in the paper and no one says we should go destroying every bad-tempered bull, just in case! In a hundred years the lions have killed maybe only fifteen people in the entire West, and maybe fifty have been badly injured.” (He did not tell Julie that some of these had been children who had survived thanks to hundreds of stitches and dozens of hours of plastic surgery. Michael shivered just thinking about the photographs that he had seen in a book about these tragedies, so he hurried on to chase the horrible images from his mind.)
“But plenty of other people who’ve been face to face with a mountain lion have escaped unharmed. The animal just took off as soon as it spotted them.” Michael’s expression grew somber. What worried him the most was that a good half of those deaths in the last hundred years had occurred since 1970. But this had nothing to do with the remarkable comeback of the mountain lion population - close to extinction at that point - which had been made possible by restrictions on hunting. The problem, actually, was of an entirely different nature: it was demographic pressure, driving humans in ever greater numbers into remote areas, which was confusing the boundaries between human and animal habitat and setting the stage for lethal encounters. (…)
Translated by Alison Anderson and Reagan Salais
“Cougar Corridor” Excerpt from Chapter 5
Attached to the fender of a pick-up truck, under the shade of a Douglas fir, Zik, Zak, and Zook, the English Beagles that are given the nickname of “redticks” here in the West, plunged their snouts into the water bowls that their master, Art Lambert, had just given them. On this day, the day after the tragedy, the dogs had been exploring the area around the Bardgetts’ house since sunrise, without having found the smallest trace or scent of any animal at all.
Art grabbed a clean t-shirt from behind the seat of his car and took off the khaki shirt that was drenched in sweat, in doing so exposing a strong torso and hips that a good twelve hundred miles of walking per year had left practically fat-free. He pulled out two bottles of Alaskan Amber from the ice chest and handed one to Kevin Anderson, the mountain lion specialist from the Montana Parks and Wildlife Department. The two men usually had little contact with each other at this time of year, but Lambert knew that when a serious accident occurred involving a mountain lion, Kevin had a tendency to take matters into his own hands. Kevin felt that it was his responsibility to manage the practical as well as the emotional consequences that this sort of calamity had on the victim’s family and on the population in general.
“Well, I think that’s enough for today”, Anderson said, placing his rifle in the back of the car.
Art agreed. “With this charred ground…”
“Yeah… even though this lion may not be far. I can just imagine him lounging in a tree five hundred yards from here.”
“But he could also be six or seven miles away…”
“Yup…” Art clicked his tongue with satisfaction after swallowing another sip of beer. He was neither angry nor discouraged. Simply realistic. Even in winter, when the snow-covered ground remained crusted over in the absence of rain, ten or so days of incessant excursions were sometimes needed before finding mountain lion tracks fresh enough to give the dogs a chance at picking up a trail. But the drought this July was the worst. The air that day was scorching with absolutely no wind. Even if the lion were close, no dog was capable, under these conditions, of capturing its scent, a scent that the ground refused to offer up. (…)
Kevin Anderson had left his Cherokee in the valley, parked in Lambert?s driveway.Their pick-up had reached the plain and was traveling on a secondary road running parallel to an irrigation canal. The countryside had a few trees consisting mostly of willow or cottonwood and was dotted here and there by small farms whose only visible landmarks that could be seen from afar were tall red or green silos. The surrounding fields were scattered with bales of hay covered in white plastic.
The two men were deep in thought. They knew that the majority of people in the area were impatiently awaiting news that the young lion had been found and destroyed, and they were soon to be told that, no, the mountain lion was still at large.
“I don’t know how we are going to handle the situation”, sighed Kevin. “I remember when that other kid was killed, twelve years ago, above Missoula. Things got a little out of hand. Armed men patrolled around town at night and one of them had almost gotten himself killed after he mistook a neighbor’s dog for the lion in question and shot at it…”
“And what if we asked Mike Dupuis to help us find the cougar ?”, Art suggested. In my opinion, he’s the only one capable of doing it..” Kevin thought for a few seconds.
“It’s true that he is capable of feeling the presence of a lion, and of tracking him and finding him. Even without clues! A few years ago, when the two of us didn’t know each other very well, he invited me to accompany him for a two-day trek in the forest, and I admit it was the only time I have ever been able to observe a cougar without a collar -in this case a female and two cubs - without disturbing them. And we stayed there a long time…” Anderson thought about Michael and his special relationship with cougars. On several occasions, Kevin had offered him a part-time job as an assistant, but Michael had refused. It wasn’t anything personal. The two men considered themselves friends. The problem was with their respective approach to lions - on one hand, Kevin’s certainty that his research was indispensable for a better understanding of the species, and therefore its protection; on the other hand, the uneasiness that Michael felt toward these practices. He partly admitted that they were useful, but he also thought that they detracted from the cougars “sacred” quality.
Nevertheless, Kevin knew that Mike was grateful that he had taken him along, some years back, during one of his collaring operations. It had given Mike the opportunity to touch and caress the lions up close. He had felt their body heat, opened their jaws to size up the strength of their canines. With his hand he had felt the beating of their heart and listened to the pounding of it with his ears. He had been fascinated. “Now that he’s living with this corridor specialist, maybe he’s starting to see things a little differently”, thought Anderson, telling himself that he should make another attempt at offering him a job.
He turned towards Lambert and picked up the conversation where he left off. “Well, it’s true that with Mike, we would have a very good chance of trapping this cougar. He can actually feel the presence of a mountain lion where dogs would go right by – it’s incredible! It must be his Indian blood… But I know him well enough to know that he would turn us down. For him the problem lies with man, not with the lions. And, well, there are days when I agree with him.”
The truck was now leaving US 93 and had turned on a perpendicular road leading to Lambert’s house. No matter which direction you looked, the sky was a uniform blue - a Montana “big sky” in all its splendor. There would not be rain for a few days. All of a sudden, Anderson’s cell phone rang. At the sight of the number on the screen, he knew that it was Clint Evans who was calling from his office in Helena.
“Hi, Clint… No, nothing, unfortunately. With this weather, it’s like you… What ? Where ? Oh, my God! Okay, we’ll be right there and I’ll call you back. “Turn around, then go to the end of Sunset Road, past the reservoir,” he called out to Lambert. “Six sheep have been killed. The rancher says that it was a mountain lion.”
Translated by Alison Anderson and Reagan Salais
“Cougar Corridor” Excerpt from Chapter 9
The large room of the restaurant next to the Indian museum was filled to capacity. Three days after the death of Phil Bardgett, and the day after six of old John McLaren’s sheep had been killed, a good portion of Mountainview’s population as well as residents from the northern part of the valley were in an uproar. Because of the avalanche of telephone calls, the county administration had decided to hold an informational meeting at the restaurant, conveniently located for most people. Mayor Dennis Bingham had summoned Kevin Anderson,the mountain lion specialist from the Park and Wildlife Department. Art Lambert was also present. Louis Oxarango stood discreetly at the back of the room. Dennis Bingham rose from the table which he shared with Anderson and faced the assembly, waiting a few seconds for a relative calm to settle before he began to speak. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are here to discuss and to clarify some of the events that have taken place in the area in the last few days. For the first time in this part of the valley, a mountain lion has caused the death of a member of our community, a young boy. On behalf of the authorities of the county, I would like to pay my respects to the Bardgett family.”
He paused for three seconds of silence before continuing.
“Now, to start off, I would first like to address immediately the question that has been worrying all of you for the past few days. It is clear that we will do everything in our power to neutralize this animal as quickly as possible, and when I say “neutralize”, I mean he will be killed. Our friends in the Park and Wildlife Department…”
There was murmuring in the room. It was obvious from the crowd’s reaction that the people from the Department were not everyone’s friends. “Our friends in the Montana Department of Wildlife”, continued Bingham, raisinghis voice, “have had four teams since yesterday patrolling the areas where we think this lion may be. They are people with experience. Among them are a professional guide and hunters, but I’ll be honest, up until now their searches haven’t turned up a thing.”
This statement was met with new grumblings of mistrust from the audience. Not allowing himself to be intimidated, Bingham continued.
“In a few minutes, I will be turning the mike over to Kevin Anderson who is officially in charge of this search, but first I would like to ask all of you something.” He cleared his throat. “My administrative colleagues and myself, ladies and gentlemen, were surprised by the extent and the viciousness of the public’s reaction to these events.”
“But our safety is at stake”, shouted an overweight young woman in the third row. “Above all, the safety of our children is at stake. And it’s the county’s job to provide that safety!”
“Exactly”, retorted the speaker. “Once again, everything is being done to ensure the destruction of this mountain lion, but it is very important that everyone remain calm when dealing with this problem. As a matter of fact, the likelihood of a new incident is very low. History has shown us that in all the recorded cases of deaths due to cougars throughout the West, the same animal has never struck twice.”
A disapproving hubbub filled half of the room.
“A family is now in mourning. A farmer has lost sheep - apparently also the first cougar attack on a herd in the area in several years. But what most of you are unaware of,” Bingham paused for a moment and then raised his voice again, “is that only two of John McLaren’s sheep were killed by a mountain lion!”
What had been the sound of murmurs throughout the room was suddenly replaced by surprised silence.
“Kevin Anderson, who is here today, and the guide Art Lambert, were the first to see the site of the killings, barely two hours after it was discovered by the animals’owner. Two of these sheep were clearly the victims of a lion: their necks were broken in the characteristic manner common to the cougar’s method of killing, and one of them had been partially eaten. As for the other four sheep, ladies and gentlemen, they did not bear any of the characteristics of a mountain lion attack! Their carcasses were found, as a matter of fact, a little less than a mile away. They had their necks snapped! Probably sometime after the two others were killed.”
“Are you trying to tell us that in addition to a mountain lion we now have a wolf wandering around the area”, yelled a man in a tie, from the third row, in a half-ironic, half-aggressive tone.
“It’s a hypothesis that we’ve considered. Until now, there have been no canine-related incidents in the region. But you may remember that a pack of six wolves - wolves that were protected by law and equipped with radio-collars - had been reintroduced two years ago now, just above Kalispell. It is quite possible that these animals could have ventured all the way here, especially when you take into account the distances they can travel. However there is one pertinent detail to this hypothesis: none of the four sheep that had been killed had been eaten. And as we all know, wolves, like mountain lions, generally kill only in order to feed. Well…” “Generally! You’re the one that says so! ”, yelled a thin young man in a cowboy hat. Bingham identified him as the son of a rancher from the east side of the lake well known for his contempt of any official authority. “He still has pimples on his face and he’s already the perfect little reactionary redneck”, thought Bingham to himself.
“Anyway”, continued the mayor, “the specialists of the Park and Wildlife Department have combed the area to try and track the frequencies of the wolves’collars, but they haven’t registered any signals.” “And what if it was some rogue wolf ?”, yelled the young man again, apparently drilled by his father, “or a pack, maybe the ones that are supposedly migrating down from Canada?” He turned back, very proud of himself, to look at an overweight girl with a milky complexion sitting next to him. “That’s right, show off in front of your girlfriend…” Bingham shot him an intent look and paused before springing his next piece of news on the audience. “This morning, the hypothesis of a wolf - any wolf - was abandoned after a telephone call to the sheriff by John McLaren himself. At dawn, John saw an animal roaming around his coral, a grayish brown shape that he had seen around his ranch before. Without hesitating, he grabbed his Remington caliber 30/06 and killed the animal. It was a dog, a Weimar pointer. And this afternoon, the test results from the laboratory of the Bozeman Park and Wildlife Department showed traces of blood from the sheep on the dog’s coat, as well as wool fibers and flesh in his teeth. And they found meat - also sheep - in his stomach.”
In the room, comments were flying. Everyone knew that it was not rare for stray dogs to wreak havoc among sheep, deer, and young fawns especially in the spring. But this revelation was somewhat disappointing in that it weakened the importance of the general outcry created by the mountain lion. (…)
Translated by Alison Anderson and Reagan Salais
“Cougar Corridor” Excerpt from Chapter 21
Immediately after the kidnapping, the two men turned their cars and headed a few miles north along back roads in the general direction of McLaren’s ranch and Bruce March’s place. Burke went first, at the wheel of the Volvo, and Arlee followed, a mile or so behind, in his blue-gray jeep. It was an old model, a Chevrolet Blazer, which had been lying around his junkyard for months. The paint job had faded, the inside was filthy, the seats were torn and the underside was rust-corroded. But Arlee had recently gone over the motor and it was ticking like a clock, powerful.
The presence of Julie’s inanimate body, wrapped in a tarp in the trunk, was making Matt Arlee nervous. So long as Burke hadn’t fucked up with the drugs. But that was the price you had to pay if you wanted to get anywhere. It was thanks to Oxarengo that he’d heard Burke was in Montana in the first place, and so now the time had come: time to kill him, time to avenge D’Amato’s death. As for Julie, well… things weren’t going to turn out exactly the way the property developer had foreseen. Of course, the risks were enormous, but now that he’d imagined the outcome of his plan for the thousandth time, Arlee felt confident; he knew he was up to it, knew he was up to the challenge. The two men met at an access road they had staked out ahead of time. It led to a deserted clearing, choked by vegetation. After they’d moved Julie to the back of the Volvo, then camouflaged the jeep in a clump of beech trees and tall bushes, they got in the car and drove to the place where Burke’s old Dodge was hidden. Arlee had insisted on this: they had to cover their tracks, he said. They loaded the young woman’s inanimate body, still rolled in the tarp, into the back of the pick-up truck.
A few minutes later, the truck rolled through some dense undergrowth and stopped in a thicket where a small enclosure had been set up. Made of interconnecting iron rods cemented into a foundation of rocks and concrete, it measured roughly 60 square feet. A makeshift roof of wooden logs, corrugated iron and leafy branches covered the enclosure which stood five feet high. Inside, a young mountain lion, about two years old and growling with rage, paced furiously back and forth within the narrow confines of its prison. At ground level a small iron door gave access to the pen. Burke walked a few feet into the forest and came back with an aluminum cage three foot high by four and a half long by three foot wide that he had hidden there ahead of time. At one end there was a hatch which slid open vertically, and now Burke placed it up against the opening of the pen.
«Okay, I think we’re ready, » he said somewhat breathlessly. He handed Arlee a stick slightly larger than a baseball bat.
« I’ll open the door and you push him in. Go ahead a give him a whack if you have to. »
Burke sat at the wheel, with the lion’s cage in the back, and drove out of the woods to reach the access road. Judy was still wrapped in the tarp, wedged like a sandbag in the front between the two men. Arlee’s unease grew as he watched the young woman’s body shake with spasms which seemed to be coming more and more frequently. The sedative effect of the xylazine - the drug used by biologists to put bears and lions to sleep - seemed to be wearing off. (…)
« Looks like she’s really waking up », Burke murmured. « So the dosage was just right. Depending on how it goes », he laughed, unable to repress a grim smile, « she’ll just have time to figure out what’s going on before she gets what’s coming to her. Nice piece of work. If I had my way, I’d give her a taste of, well… you know… just have a little fun… »
Arlee didn’t respond but couldn’t refrain from looking sharply in Burke’s direction. The other man lowered his gaze and Arlee was surprised, not for the first time, by the expression on his face. A mixture of vice, hatred and cowardliness in an unscrupulous leer, reflecting a total absence of any form of morality. And perhaps, thought Arlee, there was also a deeply buried fear there, a lack of self-confidence or a shaky identity, all of which combined to make this man incapable of normal relationships with his fellow humans. Walking quickly now, the two men went back to the truck and took cover in order to observe Julie.
Translated by Alison Anderson and Reagan Salais
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