By Gary Dickson, Editor – Siouxland Observer

I am an avid consumer of my cellphone news. It’s how I keep my mind sharp as a tack.

That’s why I became aware on a Thursday a little over a year ago of some late-breaking news from our colleagues in Sioux Falls at Dakota News Now. It said the following:

According to Sioux Falls Animal Control, a home surveillance camera captured a mountain lion in the city on Sunday. The department stated that they were announcing the sighting “out of an abundance of caution” and believe there is no threat to the public.

“Mountain lions have passed through this area before and are usually doing just that,” said Animal Control Supervisor Patty Beckman.

Call 911 if you spot a mountain lion.

Holy Buckets, I thought. A mountain lion in Sioux Falls! What are the odds? Then I read another notice from the Miner County Sheriff’s Office in Howard, S.D. dated in the summer. Apparently, they also had a cougar visit them up there. This one was seen around their golf course, no less. It probably was getting in nine holes that early Wednesday morning. Savy reporters like myself know that mountain lions, especially those seen in East River South Dakota are industrious creatures, known for getting their recreation in before starting their work of killing animals like deer, wild turkeys and small dogs.

Now you’re probably wondering how I could possibly know that? Well, Mr. or Ms. Smarty Pants, I happened to have a conversation with this very same mountain lion that passed through both Howard and Sioux Falls.

More than a year later.

It was last Sunday evening at The Pointe Nature Preserve next to Dakota Dunes.

I was out for a stroll on the hiking trail through the preserve along the Missouri River when I stopped to tie my bootlace. When I looked up, there was this big ol’ mountain lion looking at me from the bushes along the trail.

I wasn’t sure if he had been stalking me or not. But I knew enough from reading the stories online that I shouldn’t run and I shouldn’t stay crouched. Because, experts have interviewed mountain lions, cougars and panthers before, and they have learned that humans should stand up tall and wave their arms slowly. You should say something, like “I am not prey and may be a danger to you, fella.” Also do not bend over slightly at the waist and hold out your hand and say, “Here kitty, kitty, kitty.”

Mountain lions have said they detest that.

So, I stood and waved my arms and said, “Go away, cat. Shoo! I’m not a deer or a turkey. Beat it!”

And then the critter sat down on its haunches and began to lick its paws and wipe its face — just like my cat, Willie does when he starts to wash his face.

Then the mountain lion looked at me and said, “Oh, will you knock off the scary human crap, dude. I know you’re not prey.

“I’m not going to attack you. I already had a deer on the other side of the golf course. I’m just trying to scare some humans on this trail, but you don’t seem to be falling for my vicious puma act right now. Besides, you’re a bit too scrawny to eat, anyway. What, are you on a diet or something?”

“How ‘bout that, a talking mountain lion!” I exclaimed. “I only thought those were in state game warden storybooks. “But I guess not.

“Do you have a name, like Leo or Maneater – something terrifying like that?”

“Nah,” the cougar replied. “My name is Nigel. I’m named after my mom’s great-uncle from Canada. Go figure. I guess he terrorized a bunch of sheep ranches in British Columbia back in the day. My folks wanted me to be pretty ferocious when I grew up. Instead with a name like mine, I got teased a lot by the other kits when I was growing up.

“I had to branch into killing and eating a few Mormons at Warren Jeffs’ Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints compound out by Pringle in the Black Hills. They weren’t different than other humans I’ve had to eat on occasion. But it helped me make a name for myself. My friends started calling me ‘Nigel, the Cult Exterminator.’”

Nigel, Mountain Lion

“Had to fight a lot to make them leave me alone.”

“Well, Nigel isn’t exactly fearsome-sounding, I guess,” I responded.

“I’ll say,” Nigel said. “I had to branch into killing and eating a few Mormons at Warren Jeffs’ Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints compound out by Pringle in the Black Hills. They weren’t different than other humans I’ve had to eat on occasion. But it helped me make a name for myself. My friends started calling me ‘Nigel, the Cult Exterminator.’”

“Wow, dude! That’s pretty extreme,” I remarked. “But I can see why you impressed your colleagues out there. That’s called the Custer Limestone area and it is pretty rough country. But I suppose it’s good for mountain lions to live in.”

“That it is, my human friend.”

I told him that there was a church on the eastern edge of Sioux City along U.S. 20 that most folks think is a cult, and if he wanted to stay around for a while he could feast on a few of them to build up his energy for the rest of his trip. Of course, I assumed The Dunes was just a short layover for the puma and he might be heading west.

He thanked me but declined my suggestion. Instead, he wanted to visit some about what he really liked, which was not killing other creatures.

Nigel and I talked for quite a while about literature, bowling, golf, movies, politics and, of course, the environment. Surprisingly, the big cat is a fan of murder mysteries and philosophy. He said Robert B. Parker is his favorite mystery author.

“I just love that Spenser series Parker wrote,” Nigel said. “That detective is such a smart ass.”

I told the cat that my wife and I liked to read Parker’s Spenser novels. I said The Godwolf Manuscript, his first one was the book that got me hooked on the author. Nigel said he has liked The Judas Goat and Mortal Stakes the best so far.

Then he stretched and started talking about his upcoming journey.

“Say, do you own a golf cart?” asked Nigel. “I figured I’d take one for a ride this evening and maybe freak some of these Dakota Dunes residents out before I head out across the state. That’s what I did to get around that golf course in Howard. I’ll bet they didn’t mention that in the news, did they?”

“Uh, no they didn’t say that. The sheriff probably didn’t want to alarm the area residents with news about a golf cart-driving cougar. But to answer your first question, no, I don’t own one. But I’ll bet you can scare somebody into abandoning theirs on the course if they’re not carrying a gun.”

“Gee, I never thought of someone carrying a firearm while golfing. Maybe I’ll wait until dark,” Nigel said.”

“Yeah, this is South Dakota,” I said. “And they have a ‘Stand Your Ground Law’ to protect a gun owner in case they feel their life is threatened.”

“So I’ve heard,” the verbal cougar said. “But what people don’t realize is us mountain lions, cougars, panthers, pumas or whatever you call us – even our smaller relatives, the bobcats are taking firearms classes, too. Don’t be surprised if we shoot back, or throw a rock or a grenade or something. Hah! Think about that for a while. Anyway, after my joyride, I should be heading upriver. Maybe I can get to Yankton by morning.”

“Hey, sounds like a good plan,” I said. “I’ll watch out for arms-bearing mountain lions in the future, too. But before you go, I’ve got a joke for you, Nigel.”

“Okay,” he agreed. “Go for it.”

“Knock-knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Panther.”

“Panther who?”

“Panther no panths, I’m coming in.”

“Okay, human, I’m feeling hungry now. You’d better be on your way back home.”

“Allrightee then, Nigel,” I said backing away. “Safe travels.”

And that’s how I learned all about mountain lions. At least one of them. Really.

If you happen to meet a mountain lion out in the wilds of southeastern South Dakota, you might try waving your hands and yelling at it. If you’re lucky, it may want to engage in a conversation about current events or Eastern philosophy with you. Or discuss the recent election (just don’t make any assumptions about its political leanings – let the cat tell you first).

But I don’t suggest you try telling it a joke.

Ta-ta for now.

Your friend,

Gary

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