In an Instant

I am like a shadow, mimicking your every move, I am like a nightmare destroying your dreams, I am like a wolf cloaked in deception, I am a fierce predator stalking its prey.

Humans simply know me as a mountain lion, but the forest creatures know me as the deliverer of death.

Death is my middle name; no-one ever realizes until it’s too late. They all think “kill or be killed” and they are right in their assumption. Yes, if you run you will survive, but only for now. It does not dawn on them that death always finds you one way or another. I will find you.

The stars are mourning, they do not come out to dance, hiding behind a curtain of clouds, they shy way from any onlookers. The moon with the sky to herself tries, but fails, to shed enough light, for she too is grieving the season’s harsh change. Cold, bitter winds carry the trees’ dying prayers, and the creatures who inhabit the forest understand the trees’ concern for them.

Their last wishes swirl around me as I make my way back to my den. Even with a developing winter coat, the nights bitter cold stings, making me bare my teeth in protest. Drawing near, the welcoming smell of home can only be attributed to my trophies, which are littered around the shrubs and saplings enclosing my sanctuary. Some are still a work in progress, half finished they lay exposed to the passersby. But what can I say? I’m good at what I do. Every day I carry out a vital part in the cycle of life, and every night I get to indulge in such pleasures as enjoying a hard day’s work.

As I awake, the morning birds sing their melodies. Not one is alike, yet all create a rising sound, as though directed by an invisible orchestrator. The dulcet choir echos around me as I silently pad my way through the dry and crackling forest floor. This once vibrant and lush sanctuary teeming with creatures is coming to a screeching halt, with the rapid change in seasons. The sun’s early morning glow casts pools of rich gold over the landscape. A hunter never does like to be exposed. The shadows are its ally, keeping it apart from the other ravenous predators, my stealth can never be outmatched. One of the first rules in any kind of hunt is to know your opponent, the way they think, the way they move, and most importantly how they react to danger: fight, flight, or freeze. I am as familiar with all three as an old friend. Crouching down I lie in wait. Patience is another redeeming quality of my kind. You cannot rush fate; fate comes and goes at its leisure. Unsuspecting, a rabbit searches for food several yards away in the field still riddled with dew, like a thousand little diamonds scattered over the ground. It does not know of the coming danger. When it popped out of its hole this morning, it did not in any way think today it might not come back to its burrow, or it might never feel the comfort of a warm bed or the heart-warming delight of finding a coveted patch of berries. No, it only feels the emptiness of its stomach and the urge to fill it. The countdown begins. Ten… in one powerful leap I land in the soft earth for a fraction of a second, my paws barely touching before I leap again. Nine… the rabbit jolts sending its heart into a frenzy, an unsteady thump against is breast. Eight… only four feet between me and the victim. Seven… the flight instinct has kicked, in leading the rabbit in an aimless zig-zag pattern over branches and bursting though piles of leaves that make a strange and unfamiliar echo. Six… claws out, teeth bared, I am the definition of a killer. Five… every fiber of my being is honed on my prey. Twigs snap, squirrels scuttle up trees, but I notice none of this. Four… there it is its salvation twelve inches away. Home is visible to the little rabbit. Three… pulling my body back like an arrow, I let the momentum carry me forward. Two… furiously trying to find traction in the loose pine needles, the rabbit inhales its last. One… I sink my teeth into soft flesh. Ten seconds, and just like that a life has ended… The rabbit will will only satisfy me for a time, however. If I want a decent meal, I will need to continue on toward the heart of my territory where larger game dwell.

With the changing seasons, the forest creatures scuttle around, hurriedly trying to stock up for the winter and hibernation. The squirrels cozy up their nest insulating it with leaves and any other eye-catching thing. Bears stuff themselves to the limit, preparing themselves for hibernation and the coming spring; while the badgers, foxes, and the ever present skunk compete for homes and refuges. Leaning down, I sniff at the ground, looking for a scent. Each scent is like a different color. A fox came through, leaving a trail of orange along with a hint of chestnut, which can be attributed to the mouse it carried in its mouth. Raccoon (black) and an elk (deep brown) have all passed here within the hour. I follow the elk. The soft earth gives way under my weight, outlining my paws and displaying my claw marks scoring the muddy ground.

The sun now sits high above the trees but is unable to compete with the sharpness of the wind which has not ceased since yesterday. The elks generally stay in the valley and in a close knit group, so the key to hunting these animals is the element of surprise. Skirting around the tree, I crouch. One unlucky elk, a female, has strayed away from her herd. Now scavenging for the last remaining green leaves she is completely unaware of her surroundings. I slink up within striking distance. The elk jerks her head head up at the rustling of leaves, a quick scan eases her worriers and she resumes her nibbling. Very carless. I move again this time with the purpose of striking when a high pitched wailing scream sends the female running back to her herd a, warning call from the attentive male. Like dominos one after the other the elks run off together in a frenzy. The elk has escaped death for now. But I am never far behind my prey.

Back to searching for something to satisfy my appetite, I continue on further up into the ridge. The forest has a way of making you feel like you are being continually watched as though by the ghosts of former predators. It gives you that uncanny feeling that it can be you best friend that will take on unforgettable adventures or your worst enemy leading you down a haunting path. The unsteady drumming of a wood pecker causes an eerie echo that bounces off the mountains, fading like the colors of the sunset, vivid and bright melting into darkness.

By now I am just looking for a place to bed down for the night. A well-known cave stands about a mile to my left parallel to the brook, often times there is a creature lazing around which could serve as a snack. As I near the cave the sound of a giggling brook welcomes me. The brook is aways happy she never mourns nor weeps. Nothing could ever stop her continuous joy not even the coldest weather can stop her clapping. Anyone who stops and drinks from her waters is filled with pure and delicious life. I take a minute and lean over the muddy bank, crisp cool water slides down my throat, leaving me satisfied and renewed.

The cave is now cast in shadows as the sun rapidly sets, sinking behind the mountains. My eye sight is getting accustomed to the dim terrain zooming in and out of night vision and daylight vision. The darkness brings many creatures out of there homes. Owls perch from pines trees turning their heads in a vigilant rhythm, unblinking eyes search for the slightest of movements from unsuspecting rodents. Possums noise the piles of brush looking for something worth while to stick in their mouth. I twitch my ears back and fourth searching for a broken link in the music of chirping crickets and the rhythmic “burr-rum, burr-rum” of bull frogs. A screech splits the harmony. Whipping around I spot a raccoon. Teeth barred, and up on its hind legs, it wards off another rival raccoon competing for the cave. Hiss, hiss, the menacing sound bounces off the caves walls. The intruder snaps warningly at the .… “I suppose you will do,” I think to myself. Placing the bottom of my paws first acts like spring sallowing me to minimize sound, while at the same time leveling my tail for balance I stalk swiftly up on the rivals. Snap! A miss step on my part halts the feud between the raccoons. The cave dweller disappears in a haze of black sent down into the cave quick as lightning. The intruder looks at me with unblinking eyes before giving a series of snaps and snarls in my direction. Baring its teeth it gives me the impression of a being to sure of its own weight. Giving it a hiss of my own in return, the raccoon losses its nerve and dashes up a tree. Cowardly, but smart. It knows it could not win this fight. Noticing after a minute that the unsuspecting creature ran up a solitary tree no other tree is around for it to clamber onto, I stalk around the tree. It is a poplar tree which means there are no limbs for me to go and claim my victim but I have no need to rush. I have all the time in the world. Frantic cries come from the top of the poplar tree, meaning that the raccoon has finally noticed its mistake. Screeching follows the rustling of leaves which cascade down around me. Toying with my victim, I stretch up the tree only to start buffering them on the bark creating a grinding noise that sends vibration up the tree. My actions send the raccoon into a violent frenzy of noises. It its now trapped in a cage of its own doing. Curling at the base of the tree the sound of desperate screeching is the last sound I hear before I drifting off into sleep.