In the late afternoon yesterday my neighbor Alicia was happily watering her deer-resistant garden.
Unlike me, she allows deer to roam free on her property. She’s even given them names like “Rat With Hooves,” “Garden Destroyer,” and “Bambi-Pig,”
Wait. Those are my names for deer.
So there she was, sprinkling her lavender, happily surrounded by her cloven-footed friends.
Cue the sounds of bucolic birdies chirping and flute music. Think “Bambi meets Godzilla.”
According to Alicia, her deer friends suddenly scattered in a big cloud of dust. When the dust cleared, one of the largest bucks was being straddled by a mountain lion.
The mountain lion had its jaws around the buck’s neck—and for the next eight minutes the buck fought for its life, dragging the lion around Alicia’s driveway kicking and struggling until it finally succumbed.
Alicia’s first reaction was to try and save the buck by running at the lion and making loud noises.
She soon realized that with all those sharp teeth, she was outnumbered. So she turned tail (or not) and ran into her house.
She called me while all this was going on.
I was jealous that I wasn’t watching this wildlife drama unfold live. She said it was like being in an episode of Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom.
From her living room window she watched as the exhausted lion stood next to the downed deer and panted for about forty minutes, catching it’s breath and preparing for dinner.
Next, the mountain lion dragged the deer—which weighed at least as much as she did, thirty feet to the base of a small hill. Then she began to eat, stripping fur from its belly and tossing it aside.
The mountain lion ate for about 20 minutes, and then left the deer carcass at the base of the hill.
Alicia decided to finish her watering some other day.