Cougar Encounter
by Isabelle Herzig
I made a decision. I decided to go to Cindy’s dance class, not really a dance class like the ones I had been taking in Nelson but a beginner class. My friend was teaching the class, it was at 5:00 and it was in Ymir, so I thought, why not. I walked over to the studio, just around the corner from the corner store, and an easy 10 minute walk from home. It was the Thursday before the Oscars, so it was the last Thursday in February. It was light when I walked over, and although I knew it would be dark 60 minutes later when I would be walking home, I had no concern, or more accurately, I just did not think about it.
The class finished exactly the way it started, with a bit of chit chat at the door and some friendly words of encouragement. I left the studio and as I walked down the street I was stopped by a car driving up the road heading home. My friend stopped to gossip, we exchanged a few minor complaints of the icy highways and freezing rain that was expected later that night; she mentioned that she had nothing for dinner and I realized I should stop at the store to get some bread. I continued on, rounded the corner onto the main drag, and walked into the store.
Robyn was at the till, we chatted about our daughters. I grabbed my bread, looked around, made some small talk with a few Ymirites, and spent a few moments creating connections that make walking home a prolonged affair. The five minute walk from the class to the store was rounding up to 30 minutes so I took my leave and started for home.
It was now mid-winter dark, but the snow on the roads and the faint glimmer of a half cloudless night gave me enough light that I could easily make my way through the streets despite the presence of only a couple or three lights dotted around.
A few hundred meters down the road I took the right side street that would lead up and around the back way to my home. I passed three houses and then came Shawn and Carla’s. Their house, being the last one before heading up the hill, is set up against a forested bank that is a known pathway for bears in the spring and fall. As I started up the road, I could just make out a pacing shadow cresting over the hill. Though only a hundred meters away, I could barely tell what was quietly but fiercely growling at me as I made my way slowly toward it. I thought it was Nate’s dog, a bigger female that has been known to snap at me and others. I had my guard up and was about to start snapping at her when I realized it was Sunny, Robyn’s dog from the store. Robyn lives on this road, the next house up just before the crest of the hill, so Sonny was a usual sight for me, and I for him. Not so usual was his growling.
“Hey Sunny, it’s just me.”
He slowly came down, growling even lower, sniffed at me, head dropped between his shoulder blades. After a moment he started walking back up towards his home. I took another moment to shake my head, curious as to his behavior, but not frightened, Sunny is not a dog I was ever frightened of. Confused but not daunted, I started my ascent towards the crest of the hill; two more minutes up the road, across the highway, then I’d be home.
I took another step and Sunny stopped in his tracks, this time only 50 meters from me, and growled again. “Sunny, it’s just me. What’s going on Sunny?” I noticed his head looking at the forest to my left, his right. His head dropped even more, his growl became lower, his body frozen in space. “Sunny, it’s not bear time, it’s not the spring, what the heck are you doing.” I followed his gaze, then it was I who froze.
All I could see at first were fiery piercing flecks of light. Then my eyes brought into focus what my mind did not want to see, and I made out the shape of a cougar. He was just there, a mere five feet away, crouched down in the small bush besides the trees leading into the marshy swamp near Erin’s yard. The bush, his only cover, was on the edge of the road, part of the road really, and offered me no sense of barrier between me and him. He was crouched, in a pouncing stance. His hind legs held all the energy of the wild animal he is, and his ears were flat against his head, peeked, listening for anything, everything, that he needed to hear. His growl was a hissing, not the low growl of the hunted, but the hissing, menacing sound of the hunter that is fearful and hungry at the same time. His eyes are something that I was at once terrified of and captivated by.
I stopped. For an instant that lasted my lifetime, I was still. And then time was still. In the distance I heard a scream that pierced all the quiet nights of winter. Then I saw a crazed woman lift her hands to gigantic proportions. I saw this woman look down at this animal and face it with nothing but a loaf of bread and realized that she was me. I screamed a scream I didn’t know was possible and I just held my ground, frozen by fear but also by the faint knowledge that trickled into my lizard brain that if I ran, I would instantly become his prey. The closest house, only a minute away was too far to offer me any hope so my voice was my only defense. And then there was Sunny.
Sunny. Sunny came back down. He triangulated with me, offering the cougar a path out, but also a very clear message that he was outnumbered. The cougar, still hissing, still crouched, ears still pinned back, was now looking at both Sunny and I. His eyes darting back and forth, judging who was the weakest, were the odds in his favor, could he survive this attack. Sonny, on the road next to me, 3 or 4 feet away, the cougar 5 feet from both of us. In one excruciating second the cougar made his decision. He pounced, not for me, not for Sonny, but for the forested bank across the road. In one effortless leap, the cougar flew in between Sunny and me and in a mere instant, he was gone.
I stumbled back and looked around and in a daze made it to the front of Shawn and Carla’s garage/office. Carla was just walking out of her office and though my scream was heard around the town, her office is sound proof and she just casually walked out and said hi. I crumbled to the ground and started to blather, something about a cougar, something about a dog, who knows. Then Keith showed up in his car. Keith had been at the store and heard my screams. He jumped in his car and drove over and saw me crumpled in Carla’s driveway. He helped me up and drove me home.
Though I barely remember what happened next, or the sequence of events, I know I called Robyn at the store to let her know that her dog just saved my life. I also let her know that a cougar was right outside her house. She has two children that spend a lot of time outside, like all Ymir kids, and news spread quickly that a cougar was around. Precautions were taken.
The next morning I was on my way to a work meeting, thinking about how I was going to buy Sunny a life time of bones when I got the call. Sunny was attacked by the same cougar an hour after he saved me. He had followed Robyn’s partner, Fons, outside when he went to get firewood and smelt the cougar. He ran into the woods determined to chase it away and moments later he was killed. Sunny died protecting his family, protecting his community. I feel blessed that this wonderful dog was there to save me from a cougar that was most decisively out to kill that night. I feel a sense of guilt that he died, even though I know in theory it was not my fault. Our stories are now entwined forever and I feel like I owe my life to him.
As for the cougar, we found out he was travelling with his brother. Moments after Sunny was killed, the cougar was shot. The man who shot him turned around and saw the brother in the forest, but could not get to him. They were both young, inexperienced, hungry, and hunting together; a deadly and dangerous combination. Why the brother didn’t join in to kill us, I don’t know. Where was he, was he already across the road or behind us in the marsh, I don’t know. All I know is that there is clear evidence that they were both there, both hungry and hunting, but at that precise moment, they were separated.
It is an encounter I will never forget. It is an encounter that has changed me forever and has made me a little scared every time I walk in the woods or down the street, though I still do both every day. But it is also an encounter that I am grateful for, for I was given the opportunity to see the wild beauty of a cougar’s eyes up close and very personal. I only wish that Sunny could have lived to tell the tale as I have. Thank you Sunny.