A Bobcat Encounter

As with most trails in the valley, the Coyote Creek Parkway has a mountain lion warning. The display has photos and descriptions of the cat, a map showing their habitat and a picture of their tracks (along with bobcat and coyote prints). It also gives "practical" advice about what to do should the hapless reader come across a mountain lion. One has to assume (and hope (and maybe pray)) that whoever provided the survival tips doesn't have a nickname like "Stubs" or "One-Eyed Mary".

The times we've been on the trail, we've been lucky enough never to meet a mountain lion. Once, we heard rustling and saw movement in the brush, but we made some noise, kept moving and lived long enough not to find out what was hiding.

We've encountered plenty of other wildlife while out there. Once, we spotted a giant owl perched in a tree at dusk. On several occasions, we've seen squirrels, including one that must've thought we were stalking it. And on every trip, we've encountered thousands of gnats that like to swarm at mouth level.

Late Saturday afternoon, as we were jogging back to the trail head, we came across a bobcat. From a distance, it looked like a regular housecat, but as we got closer, we started noticing minor differences. Few cats have golden fur with spots or sheen. It was also a bit bigger than your typical tabby and moved with more grace and confidence.

We were on a long, straight stretch of the paved bike path. The cat was coming towards us on the right side of the trail. We were still a hundred yards away when M posed the question that needed to be asked, "What should we do?"

The mountain lion display flashed across my brain, but all I could see were the photos, map and tracks. All of the words were fuzzy, but as far as I could remember, it never mentioned anything about bobcats.

Knowing my luck, the very tricks that would save someone from a mountain lion would be the same ones that would make someone instant bobcat bait. With that in mind, all I could offer up was, "Don't stop. Let's keep moving." M agreed, but also suggested that we avoid making eye contact with it, lest we inadvertently threaten or provoke it.

The distance separating us shrank swiftly. We were all keeping a steady pace. I glanced at the bobcat's ears and wondered what it was thinking. I bet it was trying to recall the display that it once read about what to do when encountering humans. It probably said, "Don’t stop. Keep moving. Don't make eye contact."

I held my breath as we went by each other. The bobcat was almost off the trail to the right. We were almost off the trail to the left. Once we passed, we didn't change pace, but continued putting one foot in front of the other. We kept our voices calm and conversational and didn't check behind us until we were a good hundred yards beyond the cat. Only then did I exhale and look back.

Now, if this were an exciting story, I would've looked back and seen the bobcat leaping at my throat, a blur of fur, fangs and claws. Unfortunately (or fortunately), this is a piece of nonfiction, so all I saw was the bobcat's rear end in the distance as it sauntered down the trail.

To summarize, we encountered a bobcat, nothing happened and we all lived happily ever after. The end.