Some Good Reading (too bad you can't leave it on the coffee table)

Everything in this story is true.  None of the names have been changed, no one is innocent.

The Hunt for the Cougar

by Adam "Rev" Hulnick

It seems the cougar is back in the news. We all remember from last winter that mystery cat that was prowling the Philadelphia area and evading capture as only a wild cat can. So after a summer’s hiatus the cougar is back with, in the tradition of bigfoot, a video tape to prove it.

But there’s a catch kids. It’s in Delaware. That’s’ right, as we all heard on the TV news the cougar has found its way to New Castle. Not my first choice, but maybe the cat knows something I don’t. Regardless, the reports were that there was a live cougar on the loose, terrorizing a helpless community and striking panic in the hearts of suburban housewives. I knew what my duty was: I had to travel the far away land in search of the unknown. I had to find the beast.

An undertaking such as this requires exhaustive preparation and research. I looked up cougar in the American Heritage Dictionary. It said: see MOUNTAIN LION. Well, that sounded like an order and who am I to say no to the English language?

Preparations for my journey began. I purchased a new pair of Carolina engineer boots, the kind that come all the way up to my knee. This mission would require some outdoor work and nothing has been the death of more cougar hunters that frostbitten toes. Besides, if a crazed starved animal attacked me I wanted more between blood stained fangs and my ankle than just denim.

For bait I selected a can of mackerel. Tuna may work on the smaller domestic-type kittens, but this is a wild creature for god’s sake. I got a full twenty ounce can with a big picture of a fish on the front so there would be absolutely no mistaking. A cougar won’t know what "chicken of the sea" implies.

With these items and a few donuts, I hopped in my pickup truck and hit I95 towards the belly of the beast. Delaware.

Crossing into Delaware I was wary. I had been planning this mission for almost an entire day now and it was finally here. Man vs. Very Large Cat. What would I do if I actually found it, lured it in with my trust y mackerel and trapped it with my charisma and ratcheting tie downs? I supposed I would take him back to Philadelphia where he rightfully belonged.

That wasn’t the point, though. The Tao Te Ching states "A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent upon arriving." I would decide what to do with the cat if and when I caught him.

I left the interstate somewhere in Wilmington. This was no longer within the safety of the guard rails of I95. This was the real deal. Any of us who drive in philly know how terrible the Delaware drivers are in town. Well, imagine them in their native habitat. It was worse than New Jersey. I was not long in that town before I understood why. The waits at the interminable stop lights were maddening. And as if to add insult to injury, there was no traffic to speak of.; the whole thing pushed my mind to the brink of madness. Perhaps all Delaware’s drivers ‘ minds had snapped.

I drove south out of the city on those insane streets into the heart of darkness, New Castle. The driving tour was enough to explain to me why the cougar had chosen this spot. Everywhere I looked buildings were boarded up and abandoned. The streets were near deserted and most of the parking lots doubly so. A full-grown jungle cat could probably have an apartment and sell Amway products in this town an no one would notice.

Towards the southern end of the town I was driving through a wooded area when a squirrel darted out of the woods. I had never seen a squirrel move that fast and there was genuine fear in its eyes. What could spook a squirrel into darting flat out into the middle of the road. Certainly a two hundred pound cat would put the fear of god into me, were I a nut eating tree-rodent.

I pulled to the side of the road and got out. There was silence except for the sound of the wind. Can of mackerel in hand I took to the woods. Whether my boots were actually waterproof I never found out, as the puddles were solid as tempered steel. Maybe I would luck out and find the cat with his tongue stuck to one like a wintertime flagpole. But no, I must not underestimate my opponent. That would mean certain death.

I tromped through the woods, holding my fish can high, calling out "Here Cougar Cougar!" No answer, no traces. Oh, he was a crafty devil, he was on to me. I would have to change my strategy. "Don’t worry, I’m not here to serve a summons. I just want an exclusive." Nothing was working except for the wind chill factor and I longed desperately for my car’s heater.

Back in the truck with the heat set on what I have termed "sauna mode" I pondered the cougar situation. Certainly there were others looking. How was he slipping through the cracks? I had to get more info.

I stopped in some strange safety training center run by the Delaware Division of Fish and Wildlife to scout around a little. Much like everything I encountered in that town, it was deserted. I wandered over to a structure marked "Public Shooting Range.: The door was locked. It was while I was trying to pry the door open that I was approached by a bedreadlocked man in a jumpsuit. On his breast was a patch bearing the symbol of the Department of Fish and Wildlife.

"Can I help you?" he asked, a look of mild mistrust in his eyes. I knew the cops in Delaware were pretty tough, but what about this guy. Were the Fish and Wildlife people "The Man?" I told him I was just looking around and that seemed enough for him. As he was escorting me back to my vehicle I asked him if this was where the cougar was supposed to be. His tone changed immediately.

Although he did not actually deny the cougar was around, lurking, he implied that it was somewhere far off and not a concern. I asked if any hunters had been though looking for it. This was, after all, a shooting range, the home away from home of hunter. He told me that agents of Fish an d Wildlife had the situation in hand that a memorandum had been issued regarding the cougar.

"Really? What did the memorandum say?" I asked. He was trapped, he had admitted it. at that point his attitude changed markedly. He eyed me with knowing suspicion.

"if any vigilantes were to try to hunt it down there would be some trouble. " he warned. "They want to catch it alive and if some good ole boys in a pickup truck were to go around taking shots at it, they’d be in pretty deep ka-ka." He really said "ka-ka." The man must have seen my boots and assumed I was hungry for cougar blood. I figured I had better get going before the Delaware cops stormed in with their guns a-blazing, and me armed with only a can of fish.

What I needed was a more cerebral approach. I drove into town and found the largest supermarket around. Maybe the cat had some human help. Maybe that was how he was evading capture. In the store I headed straight for the pet supplies. Just as I suspected, they were almost out of sacks of kitty litter. Same for the big bags of cat food. I checked the fish, but they had too poor a selection to sate a cat that could take down a water buffalo. I considered looking for a fish market but quickly lost interest.

All signs were pointing to a house-kept cougar and from the condition of the stock, I had just missed that cat’s benefactor. I asked a stock boy if anyone had made any conspicuously large purchases of cat food or litter lately. He just looked kind of nervous and said he didn’t know. Was he hiding something? No time to investigate further, the kid had snuck away, probably to call the Delaware cops.

"Officer, there was some stranger with a Philadelphia accent and a new pair of cat hunting boots asking questions. They’re on to us. Don’t let them take the cougar away, officer."

I floored it out of the parking lot, jumped the median and gunned it for 495. I’d had all the Delaware I could stand in an afternoon. The people were weird and distrustful and the roads were awful.

Where was the cougar? Was there a conspiracy, ad if so, to what heights did it reach? Maybe I would never know, but I had tested myself against the wild and came out alive. That was enough. As for the cougar, should he ever move back to his rightful place in Philly, I know where he can find an easy can of mackerel.