At 7:45 pm, at dusk, I was
on the Limberlost Trail checking the progress of mountain laurel buds. They should
be blooming very soon, and I wanted to be able to answer the frequent question called into the Visitor Center, “When should
I plan a trip to come see them?” The buds looked about a week or two from
popping open.
Photo by Bob Kuhns
Mountain Laurel Buds Ready to Bloom
In the late evening light, I had been focusing my entire attention
on the close examination of a cluster of buds. Then I turned to continue down the trail.
Immediately, I saw that I had company. It was at twenty-five feet, trotting
slowly away from me along the trail. Then it stopped, turned and sat on its haunches to watch me from about 50 feet away. It had the confidence to match its sheer muscle power visible in its legs and torso,
and the sheer indifference of a house cat to my being there. However, this cat
was two feet tall in the sitting position. The ruff of longer fur on its cheeks
gave its face a squared off appearance and identified it as a bobcat.
Sketch by Bob Kuhns
I gently said, “Hello”.
The bobcat blinked and kept watching me as I raised my camera and took a couple pictures.
Photo by Bob Kuhns
Photo by Bob Kuhns
After a furry yawn, the dark tan animal stood up and slowly walked
away down the crushed gravel path … quietly … not a sound from its feet landing on the gravel. The bobcat’s six-inch long tail pointed slightly down from horizontal.
Photo by Bob Kuhns
I followed at the same pace hearing the scrunch, scrunch sound
of my boots on the gravel. After traveling a hundred feet down the trail, the
cat turned off the trail into the underbrush. I stopped to listen to where it
would go. I heard not a sound. I
walked up to the spot where the cat left the trail, and looked carefully for any sign of the cat or where it had been. The leaf litter did not look disturbed. I
could see portions of the forest floor up to fifty feet away. I no longer could
see or hear any evidence that the ghost of the forest had been there.
-- Ranger Bob
