CHAPTER TWO
Driving on the 101 to Encino, Joe Sartor shook his head remembering his encounter with the new juvenile mountain lion that had just crossed this freeway without becoming road kill. He had only months ago fitted the animal with a tracking collar and had given him a name: P12, for the twelfth puma or mountain lion they captured for their study. I’ll have to tell the Biology class about this miracle cat, he thought. As he pulled into the high school parking lot, he wondered if these students would be interested in protecting this nearly endangered species.
Reggie Youngblood was the last student to make it into his seat just as the bell rang. He always waited in the hall to make sure Kevin was already in. Today was guest lecture day, and standing next to Mrs. Horton was a tall man with big shoulders. He was light-skinned, had a pointed jaw and looked a lot like his dad, except for his moustache. He wore a brown sports coat, jeans and dusty black hiking boots.
“Class!” Mrs. Horton announced in her booming voice,
“We have been studying the genetics of fruit flies and how this little organism has been used by laboratory research scientists to understand how gene mutations arise and are passed down from parents to offspring.”
Reggie remembered those lessons and thinking how boring and useless it seemed to him. How could anyone decided to become a scientist and spend every day looking through microscopes at little fruit flies?
Mrs. Horton continued: “Today I am pleased to introduce Mr. Joe Sartor, who is a wildlife biologist from the National Park Agency. Mr. Sartor is recognized as a world expert in capturing and studying large carnivores. I want you to pay particular attention to Mr. Sartor’s talk when he discusses DNA analysis and how inherited mutations in inbred populations can affect their survival fitness. Now let’s please give him a big welcome.”
The kids clapped and Reggie wondered how a guy who works in the jungles and forest with wild animals could also be interested in genetics.
“Thank you, Mrs. Horton and class,” Joe began. “Today I want to talk about lions, but not about African lions. The lions I’m talking about don’t live in a pride with other lions and they don’t hunt zebra.” He scooted over and put his hand on a large piece of shaped cardboard sitting on Mrs. Horton’s desk. “This kind of lion I’m referring to is a solitary creature who lives in the shadows and roams the hills at night and is rarely ever seen by humans.”
As Joe slowly unfolded the cardboard cut-out, he continued, “This is our American lion, the powerful, independent, freedomloving mountain lion.” By this time, he had unfolded the full-body shape of the giant cat way beyond the sides of the desk to reveal the animal’s long, sleek body. Reggie focused intently on the lifesize photo and took in every detail of the lion’s muscular shoulders—paws as big as saucers, sharp front teeth more than two-inches long, and a whiskered face complete with a nasty snarl.
Joe continued, “Some people also call this guy a cougar or sometimes a panther, but it’s the same animal. He is lion and a big cat, and we use all those names for him, but his official scientific name is Puma concolor, meaning puma of one color.” Gently stroking the back of the image, Joe described it as “a beautiful warm tan color with white on his chin and belly and dark brown on the tips of his ears and tail.”
Awesome, Reggie thought, I can see why this dude loves this animal. Being a keen observer and lover of animals, Reggie was mesmerized by the picture of the mountain lion. It made him think of the leopard he had seen in the Los Angeles zoo. He remembered how it paced back and forth in between the boring corners of its enclosure like its spirit was broken. He could relate to the animal’s feeling of frustration and isolation; how it felt when his dad would make him stay in his room an entire afternoon for being too wild.
The lights dimmed and the white screen lowered from the ceiling, and just like that Reggie’s attention came back to the class. Photos of mountain lions came on the screen, the big animals running and leaping, and then one dragging a deer by the neck.
Joe said, “The mountain lion grows up to eight feet long and weighs as much as a grown man at 200 pounds. Nature has built him to be the ultimate predator. He can run at 40 miles an hour and leap 20 feet in the air to take down a deer twice the lion’s size. He will often knock his prey down with one blow and then sink his two-inch long retractable claws into the deer’s side so it can’t escape. In the same exact instant, his massive jaws and curved pointed teeth clamp down on the deer’s neck and twists it. The deer dies in seconds.”
“Gross!” one girl gasped.
“Whoa!” the boys in the back yell.
“Go get ‘em tiger,” Kevin yelled as he pretended to clawed the air with his big hands.
Reggie rolled his eyes as everyone looked around the room at everyone else. Reggie then looked over at Jennifer, down the row, holding her eyes closed like she didn’t want to hear anymore. Looking at Isaac a few rows over, he could tell that he was disturbed at the fierceness of it all. Isaac was a sensitive kid and with his red hair and freckles, he looked kind of like a weakling. But he had a quick wit and a red-head’s temper and he was the first and only friend Reggie had in his new school.
“I know this may sound cruel,” Joe continued, “but the lion has no meanness in it; nature has given this animal the body, the skills, and the instincts it needs in order to survive—because it has no other means to obtain food.”
I really get this animal now, Reggie realized. The lion knows what it wants and its brain signals every sinew and muscle to get it, in order to live. His weapons are his claws and teeth and he follows his nature—fast and with a direct purpose. It’s not really killing, he believed, it’s gathering its food.
Reggie not only became totally enthralled by the character of this animal, but also by how Joe understood it. Joe was, but wasn’t like his dad. His dad knew a lot about animals too, but he’s a hunter and respects animals in a different way; Joe cares about them.
Joe went on to explain how the mountain lion lived in North America long before humans did. How they lived in peace with the indigenous peoples, but not so much with the later European settlers. Reggie was surprised as Joe described how the early Spanish and English settlers feared and hated the mountain lion.
Why were the native people so different? he wondered. He thought of his favorite picture book as a child; how Indian Chief Seattle considered animals his brothers and sisters. Yeah, he remembered, even when my dad shot a ruffed grouse, he would
thank the bird for giving its life. He must have been taught that, Reggie thought, by his Grandmother Wanchuat.
Joe continued, “The early settlers killed thousands and thousands of cougars for sport, and by the late 1800s, virtually every mountain lion had been killed or had fled the United States, except for the mountainous West.” A photo appeared, showing proud bounty hunters smiling over dozens of dead mature lions and their cubs draped dead over a fence.
As he was about to continue, Joe looked at the boy in front with bushy black hair and matching sparkling black eyes. The boy felt like he wanted to raise his hand. It was Reggie. “Do you have a question?” Joe asked.
“Sort of,” Reggie replied, “Weren’t these guys with guns predators, too?”
“You could say that. Good point,” answered Joe.
Reggie glanced to his left and caught Jennifer’s eyes and she gave him a nod and a smile. Only a second after that, he noticed Kevin who gestured to him like he was blowing him a kiss.
Kevin raised his hand: “What do you expect, though. I mean, these dudes were getting good money to have fun shooting wild beasts.” Then he started to laugh. “I mean, man, I’d do it too.”
Joe responded with an understanding smile. “Well, they were successful in killing off almost all the wolves and the grizzly bears in the West, even though we keep the bear on our state flag.”
What a story, Reggie thought, wishing his dad could hear this. It was a real and happening story, not like those places and dates in history class. Reggie Youngblood had, for the first time in his life, felt a spark light up his brain. He felt a strong mysterious pull to Puma concolor. And this guy Joe, he thought, could lead him to the animal.
Next, Joe explained that the mountain lion is most threatened here in Southern California. “In the nearby Santa Monica Mountains,” Joe said, “we know for sure there exists only two thriving lions. These are the two that we had captured and fitted with special radio collars.”
Holding up a thick leather collar and pointing to a box underneath, Joe explained, “These collars contain GPS tracking devices that emit a signal that allow us to follow their movements and study their behavior.” That’s pretty cool, Reggie thought.
“Just recently,” Joe continued, “a juvenile mountain lion from the San Gabriel Mountains made a daring and miraculous trip to this area. And in order to make it here, the lion had to cross over two four-lane freeways, the 101 and 405, both which carry over 300,000 vehicles a day. Up until this point,” Joe went on, “all of them died trying to get across. But this young lion, is at an age where he has to find a new territory and his own mate, and he actually made it across. We collared and named him P12, but I like to call him ‘Miracle Cat’.”
If only I could be so brave, Reggie thought to himself; and know where I’m going in my life.
The bell rang and Mrs. Horton walked to the front of the class, her long curly hair bouncing on her shoulders. “Okay, everybody. We’re going to take a couple minute stretch break, and instead of our regular lab period today, we’ll stay here and go into Q and A with Mr. Sartor.” The class immediately erupted in chatter.
Just as Reggie thought to go up and ask Joe a question, Joe headed out to the restroom. “Owww!” Reggie felt a sharp pain and a heavy weight on his foot. Kevin was standing on it with his back to the teacher.
“Why don’t you go back to the mountains, half-breed?” Kevin snarled.
“Why don’t you get off my fucking foot, dumb-ass?” Reggie replied.
Kevin then put his other foot together and all his 150 pounds on top of Reggie’s foot so he couldn’t stand up, so Reggie grabbed Kevin’s arm and started twisting it.
“Smart comments, Reggie,” the blonde girl said from behind as she bumped into Kevin’s big shoulders, knocking him off balance. The weight lifted.
Kevin’s ruthless eyes pierced through Reggie then he scowled, turned around and went back to his seat.
Reggie’s face turned redder and he told the girl, “Kevin’s always screwing around.”
“Hi, I’m Jennifer. Pretty interesting lecture, hey?”
“Um. Yeah,” Reggie said as Mrs. Horton announced,
“Everyone back to your seats!”
“Well, Ladies and Gentlemen, it’s time for questions and answers.” Hands went up.
“I live in Agoura Hills,” a tall girl with long bangs almost covering her eyes asked, “Should I be afraid?”
Joe sensed her natural fear of wild animals and responded, “Possibly an occasional lion might pass by the outskirts of your town, but because he is an animal of the remote woods, he very, very rarely enters into a town where people live.”
“Don’t lions eat people?” Kevin asked in order to get a few laughs, “I heard this kid up in Cupertino got his head chewed up.”
“Not really,” Joe responded, “Fortunately, in that case, adults were able to scare the lion away and the boy escaped major injury. They later killed the lion as a possible threat to other humans. These mountain lions do not hunt humans for food, but on rare occasion they attack humans.”
“But why don’t we just get rid of them somehow?” Kevin interrupted. With that question some other boys shouted, “Yeah, man!” in approval.
Reggie shook his head thinking what a stupid ass that Kevin is, like he can use a video game gun to evaporate all his enemies. Reggie raised his hand and asked, “Can’t we share our habitat?” A couple of boys in the back snickered at Reggie’s question. When Reggie turned around, he saw Kevin mocking him by hugging himself, and then Kevin shouted: “Yeah, we can relocate them in your backyard, Reggie.”
More laughter. Joe then held up his hand to get everyone’s attention back. “You should also know that lion on human attacks are very, very rare. In California, since 1890, or in 124 years of record-keeping, there have only been 18 verified attacks on humans.
To compare, an average of 4.5 million Americans are attacked and bitten by dogs every year, and sadly each year about 20 to 30 people die as a result.”
The students let out a collective, “Whoa!” That ought to shut Kevin up, Reggie smiled to himself.
Another boy near the windows wearing a bright red shirt raised his hand. “How do you capture them?”
Joe answered, “We usually use a leg snare. When it is tripped, it sends a radio signal to me at home. Most often it’s in the middle of night, so I jump out of bed and into my jeep, drive fast and hike deep into the hills to find him.”
What an awesome exciting job Joe has, Reggie thought to himself, I’d be happy to jump out of bed for a job like that.
“Once we tranquilize him,” Joe continued, “we check his heart rate, take blood and saliva samples, measure and weigh him, take pictures, and then we attach the radio collar. The last thing we do is to give him a wake up drug, move away and let him slowly wake up and escape from his human tormentors.”
Tormentors, Reggie thought, Joe used the right word. You trap the poor animal so he can’t move for hours as he tries to chew the wire off, then they shoot him with something that makes him sleep in the middle of danger, then poke and prod him before he wakes up in a daze. But I guess it’s for science and for his own good, he concluded.
The same boy in the red shirt blurted out, “Why are there so few lions?”
“Well,” Joe paused, then answered, “We’ve lost several to car accidents, poachers, rat poison, and of course, lions killing other lions.”
“Lions kill other lions?” the blonde-haired girl asked.
“Male lions fight other males over food and females. Right now in the Santa Monica Mountains we have one large dominant male with huge paws that we collared as P1, and this guy could and would easily kill P12. Female lions, on the other hand, seldom fight—they are totally focused on bearing and caring for their cubs. This is the natural order of things in their lives.
“Now, as you learned in Mrs. Horton’s class, offspring of two unrelated animals are not very likely to get a harmful mutant gene from both parents. But offspring of closely related animals that each carry one mutant copy of a gene often will end up with two mutant copies and suffer the consequences. The small number of remaining pumas in our area means that unless we have new lions with new genes coming in from other territories, inbreeding will hurt the population.
Joe continued, “Inbreeding results when the dominant male has no other females to mate with, so he mates with his own grown offspring or grandchildren.”
“So gross!” a girl in the back yells out.
Then Kevin let out a big laugh and shouted, “If I were the king, I’d want to protect my harem too.” Nobody laughed.
“Actually,” Joe explained, “the result of this inbreeding can be disastrous for the next and later generations as the inbred cubs are more likely to have birth defects and be less able to fight off diseases.”
Wow, Reggie thought, I never was interested in genetics before, but now I can see how this plays out in real life. Reggie then raised his hand. “Could that in-breeding affect more than their physical health, like their social behavior?”
Kevin laughed. “What? Like they don’t say please or thank you?”
“Actually,” Joe replied, ignoring Kevin, “that’s a smart observation and a very good hypothesis for another research project.”
Mrs. Horton stood up, gestured and thanked Mr. Sartor for his great talk. The kids clapped and then started gathering their things and heading out the door. Kevin, on his way out, gave Isaac his usual kick in the leg, and this time he looked over at Reggie, smiled and fake-scratched his neck with his middle finger. Reggie waited until all the kids left before going up to Joe to stick out his hand and thank him.
“Glad to meet you,” Joe said.
“Uh, I really enjoyed your lecture. That was cool.”
“Thanks,” Joe said, “And I enjoyed your comments. You seem to have an uncanny understanding of our natural world.”
“I don’t know about that, but I did grow up in the San
Bernardino Mountains and the folks at the Audubon Wildlife Rescue Center tell me I have a gift with animals,” Reggie blushed. He wanted to say so many things, but also didn’t want to be pushy. “Could I visit your office someday and learn more about our mountain lions?”
“Absolutely, and what’s your name?”
“Reggie Youngblood, sir.”
Then Joe handed Reggie a business card and said, “Reggie, you can call me anytime and check out our website.” Reggie shook Joe’s hand again and said goodbye and headed toward the door.
There in the hallway, stood Jennifer.
“I like what you said in class,” Jennifer said, “You seem to have such a feel for animals.”
“Thanks. Sometimes I think I understand animals more than humans,” Reggie said.
“Ha! I know what you mean.” Jennifer started to backpedal away and gave him a slight wave. “I’ll see you Thursday, Reggie.”
Reggie headed down the hall smiling, thinking for a moment that Jennifer might actually like him. Then he shook his head and said to himself, ‘Yeah right, she had to save me from Kevin… How fucking embarrassing is that?’