So I’m swiveling back every 10 yards or so feeling silly but also appreciating how this fear of being eaten has instantly turned a more or less routine hiking incursion into something else, into something electric, like switching from a black and white TV on antenna reception to a 52 inch flat screen plasma high def monitor sucking up digital cable pixels. Everything matters. Every sound, although there were none, every sense, my location, escape routes, the pepper spray in my right hand and the full metal water bottle in my left. I’m six three so I’m guessing I’m a bit skewed to the right of the bell curve of lethal cougar attack victims by height. Well, at least that’s what I’m telling myself. Along with “does pepper spray even phase these tawny rockets of tooth, fang and clawed obliteration?” Or is it like seasoning?/TUBOB. More here.

Question: Have you had a close encounter w/a predator in the wild?

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