Primal Estate: The Candidate Species (6 page)
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Authors: Samuel Franklin
BOOK: Primal Estate: The Candidate Species
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It was starting to warm as the sun rose higher. Rick set a goal. If nothing showed in the next half hour, he’d take literally a minute to slowly put down his rifle and a couple minutes to shed a layer. He knew from experience that whether he was fishing or hunting, making himself unprepared seemed to make something happen. If he was fishing and took a sandwich out of the cooler, he’d get a hit. If he was hunting from a stand and closed his eyes for a wink or two, some animal would appear…always seemed to work that way.
Rick kept with his calling cycles, mixing the sounds and the timing into what he thought sounded like the agonizing drama of a jackrabbit being trapped, then scared, then wounded, then stuck, then threatened, then lonely, and on and on. It was a wild theatrical auditory masterpiece of carnivorous horror being orchestrated by a poor, defenseless, fat, juicy, make-believe rabbit.
Rick kept with his calling cycles, mixing the sounds and the timing into what he thought sounded like the agonizing drama of a jackrabbit being trapped, then scared, then wounded, then stuck, then threatened, then lonely, and on and on. It was a wild theatrical auditory masterpiece of carnivorous horror being orchestrated by a poor, defenseless, fat, juicy, make-believe rabbit.
The lioness knew she was close and purposely diverted to the right of where she thought the sound emitted. A more complete picture was needed, and that required scent. She must know exactly what was happening. Boulders were all around her. She saw only with her ears as the brush and boulders rendered her vision useless. She must have scent. Was there blood, intestines, feces, of what animals, in what condition? She was too pure a huntress to let anything slip. She purposely put the boulders between herself and the sound maker whenever she could. The slight breeze at her back generated a picture in her mind of a scent cone blowing, spreading downwind of her own body and of a second cone from the noise maker’s body. Her scent cone could not intersect with the prey’s cone. The first part of her body to reach the prey’s cone must be her nose, and she must reach that cone before she was discovered. With the realization she was passing the sound maker to her left, she began to circle in the same direction, scanning scent. It must be here soon. Crouching lower and lower she moved forward.
The coyote could now see to his front, beyond boulders and sagebrush, a large juniper tree with a small ledge behind it, a few leaps away. It seemed that the sound was coming from the ledge. His prey would be trapped. He knew he was almost there. He slowed a little and sniffed a little more. Nothing. Looking up toward the ledge, the sound…
The lioness had reached the top of the ledge from directly behind the noise source. The branches of the juniper tree hid her meal, and she shifted her head from side to side trying to get a better view. It must be there. She wanted this meal. It was right in front of her, but she could see nothing.
The lioness had reached the top of the ledge from directly behind the noise source. The branches of the juniper tree hid her meal, and she shifted her head from side to side trying to get a better view. It must be there. She wanted this meal. It was right in front of her, but she could see nothing.
The hair on his back stood erect in a moment as every pad on his four paws immediately launched him straight into the air as if the ground was on fire. Ambush! Lion! With the flexibility of an Olympic diver his body contorted in mid-air, facing him in the opposite direction, and he began convulsing his legs trying to gain traction to run while still three feet off the ground. He was dark for a coyote and for the brief moment that Rick saw him, only fifteen yards to his front, he almost looked like a wolf. Rick’s surprise left him completely unable to shoot or even move for that matter; everything happened so fast.
The body of the coyote rose into the air above the portion of branches that were directly in front of her face at the top of the ledge. The lioness instantly knew she’d been seen. Coyote flying, twisting to escape. Too far to catch. Injured jackrabbit just below…flashed in her mind as she simultaneously entered the downwind scent cone that just then had managed to crawl up and around the ledge on the light breeze…Human! Fear struck her soul as she realized that the cunning of the human had brought her in closer than ever before. Her whiskers froze, and adrenaline flooded her brain as she silently whirled away from the top of the ledge and jumped from boulder to boulder in a panicked effort to reach distance and concealment at once. She forgot completely about her hunger and wanted only to become again the ghost that was her kind, always unseen, always unapproachable.
The body of the coyote rose into the air above the portion of branches that were directly in front of her face at the top of the ledge. The lioness instantly knew she’d been seen. Coyote flying, twisting to escape. Too far to catch. Injured jackrabbit just below…flashed in her mind as she simultaneously entered the downwind scent cone that just then had managed to crawl up and around the ledge on the light breeze…Human! Fear struck her soul as she realized that the cunning of the human had brought her in closer than ever before. Her whiskers froze, and adrenaline flooded her brain as she silently whirled away from the top of the ledge and jumped from boulder to boulder in a panicked effort to reach distance and concealment at once. She forgot completely about her hunger and wanted only to become again the ghost that was her kind, always unseen, always unapproachable.
Two airborne predators were bounding away from the human who hadn’t even known they were there. Never in the history of the Southwest had so many top predators been so close, so hopeful, so fooled, so surprised, so panicked, and so disappointed all within the space of a few leaps and a few seconds.
“What the hell…” Rick muttered, unable to control the announcement. He hadn’t moved, sniffed, snorted, anything. The breeze was still in his face and he was in full camouflage sitting in the black shade of this tree under the full solar glare of the open desert. How the hell did that coyote see me?! He scanned the distance, then called a little more hoping to bring the coyote back.
“What the hell…” Rick muttered, unable to control the announcement. He hadn’t moved, sniffed, snorted, anything. The breeze was still in his face and he was in full camouflage sitting in the black shade of this tree under the full solar glare of the open desert. How the hell did that coyote see me?! He scanned the distance, then called a little more hoping to bring the coyote back.
Finally, curiosity overwhelmed him and he decided he’d rather figure this out than continue hunting. He slowly emerged from his hide and crept in the direction of the coyote’s last position. As he moved slowly, he thought quickly and discounted the possibility that he had been seen, smelled, or heard. It must have been something else. Everything happens for a reason, and out here in the desert, unless that reason flew in and flew out, Rick would find evidence of it on the earth. Tracking was one thing he was very good at.
Rick soon located the spot where the coyote had executed its aerial half gainer with a running re-entry. He chose to follow the incoming tracks rather than the outbound as this would give him insight into the behavior and methods of the approaching animal. He already knew its motivation and method for the outbound tracks: fear and speed.
Rick soon located the spot where the coyote had executed its aerial half gainer with a running re-entry. He chose to follow the incoming tracks rather than the outbound as this would give him insight into the behavior and methods of the approaching animal. He already knew its motivation and method for the outbound tracks: fear and speed.
Rick turned around to look back at the place where he’d hidden. It was a great spot. The underside of the tree was pitch black in the brilliant glare of the late morning sun. There was just no way! Something else had spooked the coyote. He backtracked the inbound coyote prints for about 25 yards and then broke off to the left with the intent of conducting a 360 around his position to see if anything else had been in the area. It didn’t take him long before he found them.
The mountain lion tracks were large compared to the coyote, with the telltale spread pads of a feline instead of the two aligned front toes and visible nails of the canine. Rick looked back toward his hide. They were headed slightly to the right of that spot. “All we need to do now is see how close she got,” he muttered under his breath. He always thought of cats in the feminine. It just seemed right.
The mountain lion tracks were large compared to the coyote, with the telltale spread pads of a feline instead of the two aligned front toes and visible nails of the canine. Rick looked back toward his hide. They were headed slightly to the right of that spot. “All we need to do now is see how close she got,” he muttered under his breath. He always thought of cats in the feminine. It just seemed right.
Rick followed the tracks through brush and around boulders as they weaved their way through the terrain. It was remarkable how the path maintained concealment, almost as if the cat didn’t want to be able to see anything. That makes total sense, thought Rick. One of the general rules of a gunfight is that if you can shoot them, they can shoot you. To be seen is to be exposed to a threat. To be seen is to be naked before the enemy. To be unseen, you must not be able to see. To be invisible you must be blind yourself.
The tracks passed his former position, proceeded up the boulder-strewn slope, and curled around to the top of the ledge. Sly old girl, Rick mused. They disappeared on the ledge, just above his hide position, on the exposed rock. Rick turned and looked northwest, downwind, lifted binos to his eyes and glassed the area in the hope of seeing her. Silly, he thought of himself. She is long gone. He walked to the edge of the ledge and looked down at the spot where he’d hidden, then out to the spot where the coyote had made its abrupt retreat, and shook his head. The only thing that saved him was that the cat was surprised by the smell of a human. His being tucked into the tree didn’t hurt either. Rick wondered, how can an animal such as man, concealed, with advanced weaponry, optics, planning and intelligence be nearly caught by the very animal he was trying to hunt? How can the apparently superior be beaten at a game of his own making by the inferior? Rick knew the answer. Out here, despite all my advantages, she was not inferior. “But she didn’t get me, did she? I’ll remember this one,” he said aloud.
The tracks passed his former position, proceeded up the boulder-strewn slope, and curled around to the top of the ledge. Sly old girl, Rick mused. They disappeared on the ledge, just above his hide position, on the exposed rock. Rick turned and looked northwest, downwind, lifted binos to his eyes and glassed the area in the hope of seeing her. Silly, he thought of himself. She is long gone. He walked to the edge of the ledge and looked down at the spot where he’d hidden, then out to the spot where the coyote had made its abrupt retreat, and shook his head. The only thing that saved him was that the cat was surprised by the smell of a human. His being tucked into the tree didn’t hurt either. Rick wondered, how can an animal such as man, concealed, with advanced weaponry, optics, planning and intelligence be nearly caught by the very animal he was trying to hunt? How can the apparently superior be beaten at a game of his own making by the inferior? Rick knew the answer. Out here, despite all my advantages, she was not inferior. “But she didn’t get me, did she? I’ll remember this one,” he said aloud.
Not having many opportunities to track fresh lion spoor, Rick looked for prints all around the cat’s presumed escape route. He found nothing. These cats are thought of as ghosts, he reminded himself. No wonder. She must have made her hasty departure over rocks. It was as if she had disappeared, leaving no trace. What’s the spoor left by a ghost? Rick questioned. He’d found his answer listening to the dead quite of the advancing morning. It was silence.
Rick looked at his watch. There were procedures for recovering the track, but they were time consuming and time was up. He didn’t want to leave Carson alone any longer. People hunting alone for big or dangerous game was a relatively modern phenomenon, made possible by advanced weapons. Not all the animals necessarily got that memo.
Rick looked at his watch. There were procedures for recovering the track, but they were time consuming and time was up. He didn’t want to leave Carson alone any longer. People hunting alone for big or dangerous game was a relatively modern phenomenon, made possible by advanced weapons. Not all the animals necessarily got that memo.
Rick turned in the direction of his truck, up on top of the mesa a couple kilometers away, and started walking. “Three hunters walk into a bar,” he spoke aloud in a conversational voice, “a mountain lion, a coyote and a human. The human is looking for a coyote, the coyote is looking for a rabbit, and the lion is looking for…” Rick couldn’t think of that part of his new joke composition, so he skipped it and continued, “So the bartender asks the human, ‘What’s your poison?’ The lion looks at the coyote and says…” Rick realized his joke wasn’t taking him anywhere. He’d had his little adventure today and was getting curious about what Carson had been up to. He had a little over an hour to get back to the Jeep, then to pick up Carson. He lengthened his stride, still making sure to step on either sand or rock. No sticks allowed. The entire distance he kept the M4 in his shoulder, thumb on the selector, ready to shoot should he encounter a target. Nevertheless, in his mind the hunting day was over, and he needed to get his head in gear for his real life back in the world.
The dark green SUV crept down the mesa-top trail. It made its way unseen from the canyon below as the lonely road was closely trimmed by scrub pinions and cedar. Ahead of it was Rick Thompson’s Jeep. The SUV approached slowly from a distance down the thin dirt trail and then stopped while still one hundred meters away, but within view of the Jeep. It remained there for a minute or two and then backed out, as there was no place to turn around. The one lane trail made it difficult for the driver to back up easily, and the pine trees crowding each side of the vehicle periodically scraped down the side of the new paint. After about fifty meters, the single lane opened up, and the SUV turned around, making haste to leave the area. The driver had seen what he was looking for. No need to hang around.
Rick reached the top of the mesa, a considerable distance from his Jeep. As was his habit he never doubled back over the path he’d previously taken. His reason could have been for all kinds of stealthy, high-speed, low-drag tactics. But it wasn’t. He simply found that if he went a different way every time, he’d learn more about an area, see new things, and make occasional interesting discoveries. His path back had led him to a particularly difficult area of climbing up that cliff on the top edge of the mesa and he’d been forced to divert in the opposite direction from his vehicle.
Once he reached the mesa top, for a considerable distance he had to walk down the road he’d driven in on. He noticed another vehicle had come in while he was away as some tire tracks were covering his own. They’d come in then left, it appeared. He wondered if whoever it was had messed with his Jeep, until he came across the spot where the vehicle had made a three point turn after backing up a distance. Since they’d backed up, they must not have gone all the way to where he parked, as it was open enough there for them to turn around. Maybe another hunter looking for an unoccupied spot saw that he was there, backed up, and left?
Once he reached the mesa top, for a considerable distance he had to walk down the road he’d driven in on. He noticed another vehicle had come in while he was away as some tire tracks were covering his own. They’d come in then left, it appeared. He wondered if whoever it was had messed with his Jeep, until he came across the spot where the vehicle had made a three point turn after backing up a distance. Since they’d backed up, they must not have gone all the way to where he parked, as it was open enough there for them to turn around. Maybe another hunter looking for an unoccupied spot saw that he was there, backed up, and left?
Rick crouched and examined the tracks. They had a design that reminded him of a reptile, an alligator to be exact. He tried to take a mental picture of the pattern of knobs on the tread. Had he been seriously tracking someone he would have drawn a quick sketch of it, scraping it on his arm with a stick to make a picture with welts if necessary. But today was not that day. Rick named the pattern something that would describe it, as his training had taught him. “Gator” seemed appropriate. He looked away and visualized “Gator”, then looked back at it again. “Gator” was now his for as long as he cared to remember it.
Rick continued further toward his Jeep, retrieving his keys from under the rock only after scanning a quick 360 to see if anyone was around who might be watching him. He smiled to himself as he approached his vehicle. So much great training, courtesy the American taxpayer. Had they gotten their money’s worth? Rick didn’t think so.
Rick continued further toward his Jeep, retrieving his keys from under the rock only after scanning a quick 360 to see if anyone was around who might be watching him. He smiled to himself as he approached his vehicle. So much great training, courtesy the American taxpayer. Had they gotten their money’s worth? Rick didn’t think so.
As he pulled the Jeep away from his little hunting adventure, the lioness in the canyon below listened to the distant engine noise. She looked up at the mesa top and the image and smell of a vehicle invaded her thoughts. She’d seen them a few times before and didn’t like them. Sometimes dogs came out of them. This was very bad. After today, she would have an even closer association than she had before between vehicle sounds and humans in her territory. A controlled rage at her previous lapse in vigilance arose in her that magnified her hunger. Energy overtook her as her ears and eyes and nose soaked in the desert, and all the things living in it. She turned and moved slowly, calmly, and carefully away.
Rick pulled up to the location where he’d left Carson, which he had memorized by a unique cedar broken and bent over. He’d nicknamed it “arm bar” so he’d remember it. He pulled to the side of the single lane, got out, and located the boy’s prints in the dirt. Five minutes later Rick walked up to his position. Carson was wedged into a crevasse in a ledge and was making a reasonably good effort at making squeaks on his call. He heard his dad coming, knowing he was making noise on purpose to announce his arrival.
Carson looked in the direction of the approaching sound and sighed in relief. He’d just woken from sleeping for a good three hours. He’d been more fatigued than he’d thought. Like most boys his age, he couldn’t always get a good night sleep and last night hadn’t been any different. It took him a good twenty, thirty minutes to get fully awake, and he was surprised how soundly he could sleep in the sand. The rising sun had kept him warmer as the day progressed, even as his body cooled with deeper sleep. It felt just perfect. He had dreamed the most fantastic things but couldn’t quite remember them. When he looked at his watch to see the hours he’d missed, he crawled between two rocks, got out his call, blew a couple squeaks, and heard his father coming.
Carson looked in the direction of the approaching sound and sighed in relief. He’d just woken from sleeping for a good three hours. He’d been more fatigued than he’d thought. Like most boys his age, he couldn’t always get a good night sleep and last night hadn’t been any different. It took him a good twenty, thirty minutes to get fully awake, and he was surprised how soundly he could sleep in the sand. The rising sun had kept him warmer as the day progressed, even as his body cooled with deeper sleep. It felt just perfect. He had dreamed the most fantastic things but couldn’t quite remember them. When he looked at his watch to see the hours he’d missed, he crawled between two rocks, got out his call, blew a couple squeaks, and heard his father coming.
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