Jack wanted to take Bella down for on last time to the ranch. Her lymphoma could take her any time. And she has always loved the ranch - the pastures and fields, woods and river, cows and horses and pasture pies, deer and coyotes and the heat and smoke of cooking fires. Jack also wanted to look at some nearby properties. Sherry did not go. She had to work. So, it was just Jack, the boys, and we 3 dogs.
We always camp along The Little Walnut River, which runs through southeast Kansas. It is a good water sources for crops and cows. There is a campsite that is used by everyone in the family. Everyone who camps, that is. I ran around and did perimeter sweeps, going out to about 50 meters, but pushing that out to about 200 meters by the time camp was set up. Came across a plethora of scents, some I could not identify. Sven and Rick got the tent up and fire started. Jack supervised while getting the food and skillets ready. He had to remind the boys where to place their feet when chopping wood, and to push the collapsible tent poles through their sleeves, never pull. He always has to remind them.
An hour before dark a truck came across the pasture. "Who the hell is this?" said Jack. His brows were furrowed, his thumb hooked onto the hammer of the pistol on his leg. Jack is a cautious man. The furrows gave way to wide eyes and yells when the truck pulled up and Brendan got out.
Brendan said he was home for 2 weeks for the funeral of a guy in his squad, and some Army admin stuff upon which he did not elaborate. He said he flew into town to surprise everyone. Shelly told him where we were, so he borrowed a truck and came on down. Jack kept putting an arm around his son, punching and jostling him. He could not stop smiling. But, I saw the sadness and worry in the creases of his smile.
It was a clear night. The temps were in the low 30s. I was comfy, curled up near the fire, near Jack and his boys. Jack had a .40 Smith & Wesson strapped to his thigh in a black nylon rig. Brendan had his dad's Ithaca 37 12 gauge close at hand. The reason was coyotes and cougars. Coyotes were not threat to anyone in our party, except Bella. She is only 35 pounds. She, they could take down and drag off. Cougars were another matter, and one of the reasons we were at the ranch. We spent hours looking for cougar tracks. Nada.
Jack cooked up a meal of KC strips, potatoes, corn, baked beans and bisquits. That man can cook over a fire. He even brought a pound of cubed sirloin, which he cooked in cast iron and mixed with our dog chow. Jack and Drendan regaled Rick and Sven with story after story. I knew it was getting close when Sven's head started bobbing.
They were heading to the tent, all 4 of them, and we 3 dogs, when there cut the night an incredible wailing sound. "What the hell is that?" said Jack. It got louder. I knew who it was right away.
"It might be a coyote in a trap," said Brendan.
"Better not be any traps on our land," said Jack.
Everyone ran with flashlights in the direction of the wailing, to the river bank. Belle was in the dark water, flailing about, struggling to back up the steep slope, wailing and whining with a terror that is not common for her. She was scared, and probably cold as hell. Becca went down to try and help ad slid in right on top of her. So, then they both were in the water. This was around 11:00 pm. Jack and Brendan got them both out by coaxing them to swim downstream to a sandbar that attached to the shore. But, now they were soaked and it was near midnight. Jack and Brendan dried them off best they could, then we al headed to the tent.
The tent that night was the large family tent. It is supposed to be a 3-season, 10-man tent. Not sure how that would work. But it is big enough for 2 men, 2 boys and 3 dogs to fit real comfy, which was the idea.
I have a cautious nature, in any form. I like to sleep in the tent, snuggled in amongst the men and boys, the blankets and sleeping bags. But, I do not like to be bottled up in the tent. I don't like to be able to get out if I have to. So, I usually start out in the tent, but spend most of the night sleeping right outside the tent, getting up to do an occasional perimeter sweep. Jack knows this, appreciates it. So, when a noise woke me up at around 1 am, I just sat up by the door and whined until Jack sat up in his bag, unzipped the flap, and let me out. "Don't chase anything bigger than you," he said, half awake.
Right outside the tent I heard it again, the sound, and smelled something unfamiliar, but vaguely familiar. Then I heard the growl. My hackles went up. I have some serious hackles, in all 3 of my forms. I could not see it, but could hear and smell it - feline.
Had to be a cougar. Sounded much too big to be a bobcat. And a bobcat would not hang around when I left the tent. I changed to weredog form because that form would dissuade a large cat from attacking more than the other 2.
I moved left, toward the river, where the moonlight was more shielded by trees overhead. How I move depends on several things - my form, terrain, wind, light, opponent, etc. I am stealthiest in dog form. I am least so in weredog form. Surprised? It's true. Man is built for stealth nearly as much as dog. But, dog is lower to the ground. And 4 paws are actually an advantage over 2 feet. They are more stable and terrain reactive. If a man places 1 of his 2 feet down on a twig or branch, something that can snap, he can easily go off-balance trying to recover. With 4 paws that is much less likely. The most agile and graceful, in terms of night stealth, of course are cats.
Then I saw her, her eyes actually. She was crouched down, shoulders up, ready to attack. I could not believe it. I was a 6 and a half foot dog standing on hind legs and she was still thinking of taking me on. She must be hungry, I thought. Then she was gone.
I did not see her move. She just all of a sudden was not there. I am getting rusty, I thought. Need to spend more time in the woods, less time in the house. I moved to the left, taking care not to get too far from the tent, and flanked back around to the last spot I saw her. There, I crouched and smelled her scent. Yes. Cougar. Young, no kits yet. But not hungry. More than that I could not tell from her scent. I heard something toward the river.
I moved that way. Just as I could make out water I sensed something in my left periphery and ducked under just as claws swept past and over my head. She fell past me. I recovered and was up and in ready stance, facing her, in the instant it took her to wheel around and face me.
I could smell her uncertainty and fear. "If you do not go, you will probably die this night," I said. She about jumped out of her cat skin. But she did not bolt or flee. Or even hiss. I was amazed.
"What are you?" she said, her a half growl.
"I'm a dog."
"No you're not. I kill dogs. You're not one."
"I am a weredog, a different type of dog."
"I sense man in you."
"That's good. You have a good nose," I said. "You are young. If you were older you might know of such things."
"Why are you threatening me?"
"The 2 men in there have guns. Do you know what those are?"
"No."
"Guns are sticks that throw very hard and very fast teeth into you. You cannot beat them. You will not survive. These men know how to use these sticks. They are skilled. And then of course if you did happen to get past or defeat them, there's me."
"I still don't know what you are."
I changed for her, right in front of her, to dog form. Finally she hissed. Then I changed to man form. She hissed again and got so low to the ground that she was nearly in it. "Just go," I said. Then she was gone.
Jack and Brendan were making a lot of noise, getting on their boots and getting out of the tent. Jack came out with the .40 in hand. Brendan had the Ithaca stock to shoulder, ready for business. I came up to them, tail wagging. "Damn, Chester," said Brendan. "What's going on out here?" They flashed the lights around, found nothing. Tail never stopped wagging. Bella and Flecka sniffed me. "Did she get a claw on you?" said Flecka. I told her no. Bella whined, "You are crazy, crazy, crazy, dog."
There were no other dramas the rest of the night, other than the cold. The temps got down to the low 30s. Bella and Flecka were still wet. They shook and moaned from the cold. I tried to keep them warm, lay next to them. I knew the cougar would not return, so I stayed in the tent the rest of the night, trying to warm my 2 friends. I was still sore and in tepid pain from the previous week.
Jack and the boys laid side to side. We dogs laid between them, covered in old army poncho liners and pile blankets. I was warm as beach sand. But Bella and Flecka shook violently. At around 5:00 am Jack sat up, said, "Alright. Enough of this," and got his boots back on. He led Bella and Flecka to the vehicle, fired it up and turned the heater to "Blast Furnace. " I got in with them. Why not? Flecka and I were in the back. Bella was up front. It got toasty real quick. I did not fall asleep until Flecka stopped shaking. With her last groan she fell into a deep sleep.
We broke camp at sunrise, made a breakfast of eggs, bacon and hash browns, and were pulling out by 7:30 am. Jack had something he had to be back for in the early afternoon. I heard him tell Brendan, "Bastards are going to pull all the funding." Both were looking at the ground.
On the way back we drove through LeLoup, Kansas. Jack wanted to check out a property. The name of the town caught my attention. "Le Loup" means "The Wolf" in French. But I didn't concern myself with it. Until we pulled into that town. The town was filled with wolf scent.
"Anyone hungry?" said Jack. We had eaten 2 hours earlier. Jack and Brendan pulled both vehicles into spaces in front of a cafe. Boys and men got out. We dogs stayed in, prepared to nap. I was very tired from the long night.
A man walked toward Jack, along the sidewalk. Jack greeted him, asked if there was a place to eat. The man looked at Jack and gave as malevolent a smile as I have ever seen. He had wolf written all over him. He gave Jack some directions. When Jack said "Thanks" and turned from the man, the man made a biting movement at Jack's back. Then he turned to me and sneered.
I was stuck a dog. I started barking like crazy. Bella and Flecka took it up too. They understood our situation. Jack and the boys did not have a clue the danger they were in.
Damn. I hate typing with claws. I would shift to man form, but I still have a wound, laceration, on my right shoulder, that is killing me. Hurts less when I type in dog form. Don't ask. I don't know why.
Crap. Gotta go. Jack is home.
No comments:
Post a Comment