Puma concolor
Mountain lion
Spencer R. Herrera
Puma
Cougar
Mountain Lion
Panther
Catamount
I went looking for you today in all your different incarnations and I all heard was the wind and a few songbirds. The birds were nestled somewhere amongst the tall yucca stalks. If I can hear them pass the mitote from one hedgerow to another then I can safely assume you’re not around. With my legs feeling tired, yet my spirit rejuvenated after a brisk hike into the thicket of Baylor Canyon Pass, I sit down against a rock face shielding me from canyon gusts and contemplate my mercurial world while I sit peacefully in yours.
The coolness in the shadows provides a sweet respite at this altitude. A fresh monsoon shower allows you and your prey to extend their range in moderate comfort. The small puddles of water that have collected in rock crevices invite other mountain inhabitants to enjoy the fresh rain. You stalk them from almost any vantage point, peering out from a cliff above or hiding in the shadows of a tree line. I wonder if you can smell my presence from a distance while a breeze passes over me and carries my scent through the ravine below.
My imagination runs wild with the possibilities of your existence. And then, as if instructed by some invisible conductor in the wilderness, my avian lookouts cease communication. It was in that eerie quiet when I thought I heard you. A brittle branch snaps from the boulders behind me, prompting my animal instinct to hunker down and grab my walking stick. But you did not descend down the narrow mountain path. It was only the wind blowing through the creosote bushes and the leaves of the mountain oak. But then why did the birds stop singing? Perhaps they took their song where no one could interrupt their afternoon chisme. Or maybe they were disappointed that you did not make a dramatic entrance after their crescendo.
I know you’re here. Did you see me lean forward and squint my eyes trying to make out the contours of your camouflaged position? Was that you lying in the high branches of the mesquite tree near the cave entrance? Maybe next time you will feel like greeting your neighbors. Sabbaths are meant for rest, after all. Still, I ask, how can you have so many names, yet so few people know you?
Puma
Cougar
Mountain Lion
Panther
Catamount
I went looking for you today in all your different incarnations and I all saw or heard was the wind and a few songbirds.
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Notes: Tocayo is Spanish for namesake. People with the same name will call each other that. Mitote and chisme both mean gossip in Spanish. However, mitote is used more in the northern New Mexico and southern Colorado Spanish dialect and chisme in southern New Mexico and Mexico.
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Spencer R. Herrera was born and raised in Houston, Texas, but has enjoyed living in Nuevo México with his wife and two daughters for over twenty years. He is an Associate Professor of Spanish at New Mexico State University where he teaches Chicano/a Studies.