The Cougar's Dinner Table

We caught our breath as we crested the mountain. Knowing the locals nicknamed this place the "middle hill" I was simply grateful we weren't on what they called the "highest hill." Even though I was exhausted from the climb there was an extra bounce in my step. We were close. We knew we were in Max's backyard.

Max's home, the rugged Southern Rocky mountains.

Max is a large male cougar making his living in the rugged Rocky Mountains. Days earlier, data sent from his radio-collar revealed a cluster of locations where we now stood, a good sign that he made a recent kill. Our goal was to find that kill and gather even more information so we could gain a better understanding of the cat's behavioral relationship to large scale fire. Yes, even in today's advanced society the intricacies of nature's interconnectedness, or "nature's web" as some like to call it, are grossly misunderstood.

Art took the lead finding the kill. He had already confirmed with his tracking equipment that the cat was not on site. In fact, he was nowhere to be found. He informed me that should the carcass still have meat, the cat would probably still be in the general vicinity. Thus, he concluded the kill had been completely consumed. He figured Max had already moved out of the area and was once again on the prowl.

Having visited dozens of kill sites it didn't take Art long to find what he was looking for...the scattered remains of an adult cow elk. Scattered was an understatement.

It was my first visit to a cougar kill site and I must admit I was experiencing an unsolicited reverence. I had studied and managed megafauna my entire life but I was particularly fond of large carnivores, bears mostly. I had nothing against cougars, in fact, I was quite enthralled with them given their standing as an apex predator. However, being a wildlife biologist in Tennessee for almost twenty years, my cougar experience was relegated to books, videos, and my long-ago studies. At the time of my southeast residency, my adopted state simply did not have free-ranging cougars though many have argued. Needless to say, walking up to a confirmed kill site for the first time was truly a humbling experience.

The fetor of death hit me first. It was musty and deep. Organic even. Strangely it wasn't offensive. At least to me it wasn't. I have been around enough dead animals in my life to know when something smells putrid. This was none of that. The smell was inspiriting, undoubtedly stemming from the basic understanding that in death comes life. It is a concept few understand and even fewer accept. So instead of wreaking like a dead rotting elk, to me, it smelled like an invigorated and fattened cat.

A carpet of elk hair marked the site.

The site itself was quite large, defined primarily by the scattering of remains. And unfortunately Art was correct, nearly the entire elk carcass had been consumed. All that remained was a 20-ft diameter carpet of hair and scant skeletal remains consisting of the skull, spinal cord, and a few ribs. This was definitely one fat and happy cat, at least for the time being.

Art immediately went to work. A wildlife biologist's job is absolutely the best job in the world but it is not without its mundane chores, data collection being one of them. I asked if he needed any help but like a good student he declined for consistency in data collection is critical in scientific analysis. As he collected coordinates, vegetation types, distances to ambush cover, and a whole host of other variables, I simply reflected, only interrupting my thoughts to snap a few pictures.

My thoughts once again drifted to Max. Not so much wondering where he was in the present but rather contemplating his recent past. Having recently killed a bull elk this past fall I was quite aware of the sheer size of its most recent prey. Whereas I had the benefit of a bow equipped with razor-sharp broadheads, Max simply had his jaws, claws, and sheer will to bring down the elk. A truly impressive feat by any animal's standards. Ironically, however, what I thought about most was why cougars and other large carnivores get a bad rap and are reviled and feared by so many.

Is it because of the size of their prey?

Think about it. Animals eat animals all the time. Shrews, weasels, foxes, skunks, raccoons, hawks, owls, eagles, you name it, are all ruthless killers when their stomach beckons. Why is it then that human tolerance for predators wanes with size? There has to be some evolutionary fear built in. Is it because of the fact that man was probably on the menu of the largest predators not too long ago. But why now? In all our comforts and luxuries and modern day advancements we maintain an evolutionary grudge. It's funny, of all the animals I study, the species that stumps me most is the one in which I am a member. See how my mind wanders?



The joy of data collection.

Art broke the silence first by commenting on how little of the carcass remained. He mentioned that normally he would extract a tooth from the carcass so he could send it to a lab for aging purposes. And that's when I decided to make myself useful. Having aged thousands of deer that was one thing I was pretty good at. All I had to do was find the lower jaw. A quick examination of the teeth would give us a rough idea of the age of the elk.

At 10+ years of age, she was an old cow elk.

I eventually found the jaw against a stump about six feet from where the skull lay. It was literally picked clean making aging fairly simple. The process involves looking at the amount of wear on the molars to determine the age of the animal. It's not exact, but it gets you close.

This one was easy...old, very old.

Her teeth were literally worn down to the gums. And since a cow elk's life span is generally in the 10-14 year age range, I estimated her age to be at a minimum ten years old.

Was she on a downward decline? Was this why Max took her? We will never know but we have always been taught that large predators keep herds healthy by preying on the old, the young, and the weak. Art assured me, however, that he has seen animals in their prime fall victim to a cat's hunger pangs, especially when the pangs emanate from within the gut of an adult male lion. We both agreed though that opportunism was the driving force behind their feeding preferences so it still stood to reason that the weakest and slowest animals generally offered the most opportunity. So If there's ever a reason to be thankful for predators, it is for giving us the fleet of foot ungulates like deer, elk, and antelope. Had early man killed off all predators, who knows, we could be living in a world dominated by cows. And what fun would that be?

Alas, the data collection was done. Time to stop day dreaming and prepare for the hike back. Fortunately, the trek back to the vehicles would be much easier, at least on the lungs. But before we left, I paid tribute once more to the scene before me. I briefly thought of taking a small piece of the carcass to remind me of this wonderfully unique and inspiring experience but I need not, for tokens are not necessary.

I now carry that experience eternally and for that I am grateful.