for "Bonded"

for "Hooters"

for "Night Patrol"

for "On a Dare"

for "Best Journal (Overall)"

Daily Sights

our Honeymoon view

a tall mountain

a tall tower

a comic strip


powered by SignMyGuestbook.com

Want an email when I update?
email:
Powered by NotifyList.com

Newest
Older
Previous
Next
Random
Contact
Profile
Host

blizzard warnings - 13:52 , 03 October 2013

heelerless - 21:32 , 18 August 2013

Red Coat Inn in Fort McLeod - 11:38 , 23 June 2013

rushing into the waters - 09:53 , 21 June 2013

choosing a spot - 17:43 , 27 April 2013

30 March 2009 - 21:27

into the lion's lair

The call came a little before eleven. One of my wardens, asking me to do him a favor. He'd just received a call about someone seeing a mountain lion in town.

Could I check it out?

I ask the usual, when? who? where?

He doesn't know. And is busy hauling a suspect into jail as we speak, and will spend the afternoon, evening and most of the night executing a search warrant on a home.

He's got no time to mess with a lion call.

Yeah. I'll take care of it.

So. All we know is where this lion witnesser works, and what he does. So I call the place. And recognize the voice that answers. And she is able to direct me to the guy who actually saw the lion.

We've had a mountain lion there before. At Tina's place.

But he saw it yesterday.

So, this is old news, I reply...

"Yeah. Unless it's still in one of the buildings."

It was in the buildings?

"Well, it was crossing the ballfield when I first saw it as I drove by, but by the time I turned around it had disappeared."

"It must have gone into one of the buildings."

Craaap. Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap. And he's right. With the blizzard we've been having, any animal holed up in an abandoned building is probably still there a day later.

Crap.

I call Tina. Knowing ahead of time where our conversation is going to lead.

You guys haven't happened to notice another lion around there, have you?

As if we wouldn't have heard about it if they had, 'cause I think the wife is number 7 or 8 on Tina's speed dial.

Ummm no. But her interest is certainly peaked, now. They don't get into all the site, a good 40 acres of buildings and yards, during the winter. But lots of people walk through on the trails.

Including her daughter and tiny dogs.

Okay. We're right where I knew we would be. I'll be there in 15, 20 minutes for a walk-through.

And fifteen minutes later, I'm following her through the metal gate, heelers eagerly watching from the nearby truck. First place I want to check is under their wooden deck, where deer regularly took shelter last winter.

Nothing but icicles. As I'm stooping under to look, Tina asks:

"What do we do if we find a lion?" She's looking right at my belt, empty save for a leatherman and a cell phone. Apparently she doesn't consider these, along with an 8" flashlight and a digital camera, as adequate equipment for hunting lion.

But packing an assault rifle around woulda been overkill, you know? The lion's almost certainly gone by now.

Almost certainly.

Fortunately, or rather as a consequence of good care, the sally port and Hollywood gates are both locked tight. That leaves only one possible block of buildings that a lion could hide in. In the front, there's a broken window, but it's small, has no hair snagged on the sharp edges, and the dust just inside is undisturbed.

That leaves the back. Which is right exactly where the witness saw the lion.

As we head around the buildings, I point out several of our lion reports, even one caught on video, turned out to be nothing but housecats.

Imaginations tend to fly at night. Especially if rumors of cats in town are already flying.

But there's a mounted lion in Tina's foyer that proves sometimes the reports are true.

Along the century-old foundations, we find kids and/or vandals have ripped the wood off one crawlspace access hole.

There are cat tracks in the new snow, heading down into the dark, lightless dirt floored half-basement below.

Tiiiny cat tracks. Housecat sized cat tracks.

Still...

In I go.

"Can you back out of there?" she worriedly asks.

No. The floor is four inches of ice.

But I'm not worried about any lion. All I have to do is step aside, and any startled cat's gonna make a wild dash for the open hatch.

The person who has to worry is the one standing outside.

I didn't tell her that until Wednesday night, at the movies.

I'm in a stooped crawlspace full of old scrap metal and wood, hanging pipelines, discarded urinals, and heavy tiles that look suspiciously like asbestos. I'm fairly certain no one official has been here for at least 25 years. Maybe many more.

But I'm alone. No cats. Big or small.

The only exit a small hole in the south wall, into a room too large and dark for my flashlight to illuminate.

So I reach in quickly with the digital camera and snag a flash photo.

Tina says they're boilers.

But no cats.

A check of the other buildings finds them secure. We're done a few minutes before noon. My escort is feeling a little guilty.

"Maybe you could at least take your wife to lunch, since you're in town," she suggests.

A most excellent suggestion.

We went Chinese. Only, the wife bought.

( 0 comments on this entry )
previous entry || next entry
member of the official Diaryland diaryring: next - prev - random - list - home - Diaryland
the trekfans diaryring: next - prev - random - list - home
the goldmembers diaryring: next - prev - random - list - home
the onlymylife diaryring: next - prev - random - list - home
the unquoted diaryring: next - prev - random - list - home
the quoted diaryring: next - prev - random - list - home
the redheads diaryring: next - prev - random - list - home