Mountain Lions on the Prairie

Mountain Lions on the Prairie

The sound of that creature sent a shiver down my spine;
I had been casually ambling along the dirt path across the field,
The one on which we drove our tractor when going to cultivate.
Today had started blissfully as I anticipated fishing in the creek.
Having gathered my gear and bait, my steps raised puffs of dust
As I trudged toward the fishing hole thinking of my catch.
The air was quiet, the sun was warm on my shoulders, all was well–
Then I heard that sound and the hair on my neck stuck out straight.
The growl had that deep, powerful and overwhelming roar
That I knew instinctively posed a bodily threat to me if I drew near.
My senses were immediately in alert; I could feel my nostrils flair,
The wildlife officers were insistent there were no mountain lions here,
Yet my ears heard and sent the alarm to “run, boy, run for your life.”
I have much respect for those in authority but I knew what I heard.