It is early morning and I see clouds in the
distance above the peaks of the jagged mountains around me. They sit heavier
than yesterday and I think my view of the valley will be obstructed soon. With
loaded cloud cover and fog, I am happy to be more active as my thick coat won't
be such an impediment to movement during these hot days of late August.
As the fog rolls in and out, I am perplexed by
strange colours across the rocky slopes. I have been here for 6 years and this
is the first I see such reds, blues, and shades of green, grey, black, and
brown. They are not the colours of the land that I am used to. I hope my cubs
are safe in the den as I move about to defend my recent kill. I will keep a
watchful eye on those puzzling figures across the way, though I am not sure
what I will do if they come any closer.
I hear the sounds of diverse figures as they
move about awkwardly on their side of the mountain. I can tell they are not
built for this landscape. They appear flesh-like, but only in parts. The rest
of their bodies appear smooth, as if they once had fur but now have a different
type of layer over their bodies. I cannot make sense of what is on their
bodies; some seem to have more protective layers than others. Some seem to have
defenses and some seem to have odd shaped covers on their heads. I am not sure
yet if they pose a threat to my home range, and I don't like that they are in
my core area but I will wait and see what they do.
I see more clearly when the fog is lifted, and I
can see right across to those figures. They appear to be looking back at me. My
cubs are now well-hidden as I told them to stay put until I return. They are
used to that by now even though they are only 2 months old. Soon I will teach
them to hunt for ibex and Argali sheep in these areas. In 16 months, they will
be on their own to find their way. I will know where they will settle as they
will mark their preferred habitats through scrapes and sprays from their scent
glands. There are not too many of us around anymore, many of our kind have not
been able to find suitable areas to settle as we have lost a lot to a changing
world that I have yet to make sense of.
I seem to remember my mother telling me of tales
of strange figures searching for us. I wonder if these are those figures that
she warned me about. I wish I listened more intently to the tales as I can't
seem to remember what she advised me to do if I encounter them in closer
proximity. I do recall that she said some of them seek out my fur and bones for
some kind of ridiculous use. I also recall she warned me about making a kill of
their animals they sometimes walk with.
If I seek out one of those smaller goats or
sheep, I will likely be killed in return since those figures can be vengeful. I
wonder if those figures across the valley now think I am responsible for loss
of their domestic animals. I am sure now that they are only here to watch me
intently as I lay in the shade of my marked rock.
It is now mid-morning, I can still hear those
figures but I can no longer seem them. The fog has blanketed my valley and I
can barely see down below. I hope the figures leave soon as I see rain in the
distance and I will head for shelter with my pups. I will not be able to survey
the landscape and keep a tally on their movements.
The next day is sunny and clear. I encourage my
pups to follow me to my kill that I protect from the abundant black-eared kites
and occasional vulture. I am sure they and any grey wolves nearby would enjoy
their share but I cannot yet extend that courtesy until my pups have had their
own.
It is late morning and I see those colorful inept figures again across the valley in the exact area as yesterday. They are
keen on observing us, and I can assume they mean us no harm as they are
obviously present. Any predator of sound mind would not be so inconspicuous. I
wonder if they mean us well. Perhaps I should err on the side of caution, but I
can't help myself from laughing at their slow bumbling movements across the
steep terrain that I am so comfortable leaping and bounding across.
The colorful figures have broken up into two
uneven groups. I notice the larger group has come closer to me and the smaller
group remains put across the valley. The larger group is positioned just
beneath me and their high pitched sounds echo up to me. It doesn't hurt my ears
to
hear them but they drown out the sounds of the winds whispering to the
mountains carrying secrets of Mongolian proverbs.
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I choose to test these figures that remain below
me. They seem to watch me as I move about the shadows of the rocks. Their
sounds reach new highs every time I move. I wonder what could be so
interesting. As long as they remain distant from my kill and pups, I will
remain tolerant. Perhaps they are learning something about me to take back to
their fellow mates in other areas to help conserve the lands that my young will
be dependent on. I cannot roar down to them to keep their distance as my
anatomy has not evolved that way like my feline cousins. But I can certainly
show my metre long body and nearly as long tail as I display my skills of
agility.
I realize I am not sure they know who I am and
perhaps that is what they are doing here. We share the commonality of
fascination in observing each other. If I could talk to them I would tell them
I am not the Yeti, nor the Sasquatch. I am the Snow Leopard of the Altai
Mountains of Mongolia. I may be elusive, I may be secretive, but to search for
me is not futile.
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| Snow leopard by Joan Poor, Aug. 28, 2014. Mongolia. |
