Alone

by Danny Crafton

She was nearly ten feet long from the tip of her nose to the end of her tail. Her sleek body had grown strong and fat, as game had been plentiful in her valley. Lying in the rim rock, she was nearly invisible and she knew it. As she watched the saddle beneath her she could clearly smell the dogs. She knew the pups would be nearly three weeks old now and would soon make a good meal for her kittens, which were neatly hidden about one mile down the valley in the same flow of rim rock on which she crouched.

The mother cougar also knew that the mother dog was growing weaker by the day. It would soon be time to confront the mother Great Pyrenees and deal the death blow. She and her kittens would have easy meals, and her kittens could learn the art of killing with the pups and the reward of the kill. But not quite yet. The cougar knew that the mother Pyr was still quite strong and could deliver a severe wound, and severe wounds could be fatal on the mountain. She would wait until she was sure. Game was plentiful and there was no need to risk an injury. The mother dog would soon be weak and helpless.

Down in the saddle standing in the small creek under an overhanging spruce, the young mother Pyr was not ignorant to the danger in the rim rock. She stood motionless until she was sure the threat was gone. She finished her drink and grazed on the succulent grass by the stream’s edge. Centuries of instinct had prepared her to take care of herself and her pups. Although thin and her coat without sheen, she was far from weak, and very, very far from helpless. As she ate, she thought of her home with the sheep. She missed her companions and she missed the Human contact. She longed for the Human touch – they scratched her ears – and she missed the flock she had been entrusted to guard. Weeks ago she had instinctively gone away by herself to have her pups in private in a place of safety. It wasn’t as if she had planned it; she just knew it must be done. She had returned to her flock and eaten with the shepherd. He seemed to know about her pups and had looked for her nest but he was unable to locate the pups. The next morning the flock had moved on. The Pyr then made a decision that wasn’t really hard for a good mother as she was, but it did cause confusion in her soul for she committed the cardinal sin - she left her sheep to return to her pups.

Now alone in the Rocky Mountains of Idaho and with eight hungry mouths to feed, she seemed frail and vulnerable as she ate in the evening light. She would go to the stream often for a drink to wash down the grass which stuck to the inside of her mouth and her throat. She could have and would have liked to go out and hunt for meat, but the presence of the cougar had eliminated the opportunity to get very far away from her pups.

Full now, she trotted back to her pups’ hiding place. If one watched, it could be said that she glided over the ground without ever touching it. There seemed to be an effortless demeanor to her gait as she traveled uphill a quarter mile to her pups.

She stopped outside of an old mine shack and checked the wind once more, then slipped under a small opening under the shack. She crawled along a narrow passage until she came to a small cave. The roof of the cave was the floor of the shack. If anything attempted to harm her or her pups she had only one direction to defend. She could not be outflanked and she would not surrender while an ounce of life still flowed in her body. The cougar would not gain ground here without committing to mortal combat.

The Pyr laid down with her pups and they immediately started to nurse. She thought back to a time long ago when she was with her mother in a similar place, for the Pyr, like the cougar, was also born and raised on the mountain. The mountain was her home and she considered it friendly and accepted its dangers and possible death as part of her life. No, the cougar would not be going up against a greenhorn city dog when the time came. The Pyr knew that it would only be a matter of time until the pups were able to move and she could get more substantial food for herself and her pups. She also knew that as the summer grew on, the grass would lose its ability to sustain her. Time was on the cougar’s side, but time would tell what time would tell.

After the pups had nursed, the Pyr got up from her bed and moved back outside. While approaching her den she thought she had picked up a familiar scent. She checked the wind and then moved over to the jeep trail leading up the mountain to her shack. There, unmistakably, was the smell of Humans. The Humans must have passed while she was at the creek and she had missed them. She felt miserable for a few minutes as the thought of the Humans made her long for company, for the Great Pyrenees does not consider mankind a threat but a friend. And she had missed her friends.

The Pyr checked the perimeter of the shack and found that the Humans had been around the area where her pups were hidden; they may have heard them crying. She felt somehow soothed with knowledge of the Humans being near, though she knew they were not close now. The Pyr laid down in the opening to her cave, rested her head on her paws and heaved a sigh. Her pups were quiet, and for a moment she dozed off into a "Pyr sleep" which is a combat ready slumber rather than a deep sleep. Always ready and always on guard.

The dawn came, clear and cold, and found the mother Pyr again down by the creek eating grass and drinking from the creek. She had fed her pups and now had set about the task of finding enough to eat to keep her and her family alive. She stumbled as she came back out of the creek and up the steep bank. The weeks of starvation were taking their toll.

The stumbling of the Pyr did not escape the ever watchful eyes from the rim rock. During the night, the cougar had moved her kittens down closer to the shack for she felt that the time was coming soon for her to make her kill on the mother Pyr. When the cougar saw the Pyr stumble she knew it was time. She left her kittens and started a long and stealthy stalk down from the rim rock and down into the saddle. The Pyr stopped to rest beneath the big tree just yards from the creek. She knew she was being hunted and knew she must preserve her strength. She would meet the attack here and then move to the confines of her cave where it was easier to defend. She would not lead the cougar directly to her pups unless forced to. She laid her head on her paws and rested, calling up her reserve strength. Again she fell into a Pyr slumber but a sound suddenly came to her ears. The sound of a vehicle coming up the jeep road. Humans!

The Pyr laid in rest for she knew it was a long ways up the road and knew it would be sometime before the Humans came. Still she lay and gathered her strength.

For a time she just rested as the sound came closer and closer. She also smelled the cougar, now quite close, and for an instant caught sight of her on the other side of the creek crouched under sagebrush. Complete fury filled the Pyr’s body as she watched the would-be assassin stalking her and her pups. She decided, as is the Pyr’s way, to meet the threat head on instead of waiting for it. With the fury of an avenging angel, she charged the hiding place of the cougar, the predator that had kept her and the pups under siege for so many weeks, her eyes blood red with rage. She charged with the deep inherited fury of her ancestors, the wolf. The cougar met the challenge and leaped from her hiding place, landing in the middle of the creek only to catch the full weight of the mother Pyr’s body before she could make another move. The cougar went sprawling in the creek with the jaws of death snapping at her throat. She righted herself and escaped up the creek bank and into the rim rock. The cougar had badly misjudged the situation.

The mother Pyr was so weak she could hardly stand. She walked slowly from the creek and up the bank. As she approached the shack, she smelled what she knew was her salvation – Humans! She approached the van and saw gentle hands retrieving her pups from under the shack. She was not worried or upset by it. Several Humans were there and little Humans, too – like her pups, she supposed. One man who smelled like other dogs gave her some meat. It tasted delicious. The Pyr and her pups were gently lifted into crates inside the van. They gave no resistance and were happy and relieved. After a quick check over by the Humans, the dogs started the long ride out of the canyon and to their new homes. The female Pyr watched her home, the mountain, fade away from sight. She would miss being free, but they were all safe and with friends, and that was the main thing.

Up on the rim rock, the cougar had regained some of her composure and except for a bleeding claw on her right front foot was unscathed. She watched as the van with the "Miner" family moved slowly down the jeep path. She growled a deep throaty growl and flicked her tail. She very well might make an easy meal for herself and her kittens today, but it wouldn’t be dog – anyway, not these dogs and not today.

In the van, the mother Pyr laid her head down on her paws. Even though the van was rocking back and forth, she went to sleep for the first time in weeks. A sound, deep sleep, nearly a coma; for there was no danger now and they were on their way home. They had been rescued by their friends, the Humans.