A gentle slope angled down the hill from the rock, then swept out to a flat topped ridge, where I had set up my camp. A very obvious and indented animal path lead across the ridge, used by deer and elk to drop down to a tiny one foot-wide stream 300 yards to the north. They could go to the rivulet and satisfy their thirst without having to descend all the way to the valley bottom. I had followed the same path for the same reason soon after I set up camp, returning with two five gallon buckets of water.
From its hiding place by the rock a lion could see all the comings and goings of animals on their way to the stream. I imagined it waiting until a deer just passed, then silently gliding down the hill and leaping fifteen ahead to land on the deer's back, sinking its claws into the shoulders and biting down on the deers neck with the tremendous force of its jaws. Occasionally it may reach around to crush the deer's jugular. In either case the lion is quick and efficient, and death comes easily for the deer.
Lions are masters at stealth and getting a kill, bringing down their prey three out of every four attacks. Compare that to wolves who make a kill only about one out of four attempts.
In her curiosity Little Maggie demonstrated where the lion would peer downhill from its hiding spot behind the boulder. It would be a lucky day for a deer or elk if she came running down the hill instead of a hungry lion.
The presence of these cats that can exceed 200 pounds is part of the mystery and danger of the woods I backpack in, and for me, adds to their appeal.
You know they are there, like ghosts, and may come by to watch the tent at night while me and the dogs sleep inside.
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