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'Heart of a Lion' is a true story of fear, cats and ecology


I bet when William Stolzenburg wrote his previous book, "Where the Wild Things Were," he didn’t figure he would later find one of the wildest things in the Americas on a walkabout that stretched from the Black Hills of South Dakota, through Midwestern farms and cities, across major rivers, and all the way to the urban megalopolis of the East Coast.

But Stolzenburg latched on to this true story of mystery and hope, and the result is a gripping and wise travelogue for our time.

"Heart of a Lion" tracks a young male cougar as he moves out from an overcrowded wild “island” into the unknown in search of a new home and a potential mate. As the cougar winds his way out of the Black Hills, Stolzenburg’s retracing makes historical and scientific detours that add immeasurably to the tale. Imagine: A 140-pound young male lion spends two years traveling 2,000 miles.

His trek is monitored, though the whole story would not be pieced together until later, by 15 sightings and DNA samplings along the way. Frequently close to people, he harms no one, preferring what his kind has long preferred: deer, of which there are more than enough.

As might be expected, many humans overreact to the possibility of a mountain lion in their midst; some show patient fascination, and others cheer him on — even while knowing that his chances of success are slim.

Stolzenburg’s story is not only of a particular peripatetic puma, but of our long relationship to big cats. He begins in Pleistocene North America and eventually goes even further back, to the caves of South Africa where our fear began millions of years ago. Fans of writer Bruce Chatwin may recall Chatwin’s visit there with anthropologist Bob Brain and the talks they had that played such a huge role in Chatwin’s thinking (see "Under the Sun"), Stolzenburg describes the scene:

“Into a pair of perfectly round holes in a child’s fossil skull, Brain neatly inserted the fangs of a fossil leopard’s jaws. … The cave was no longer an ancient crime scene exposing the homicidal roots of human nature. More likely, it was a picnic spot for big cats.”

Our fear of predators, thought Chatwin, was the root of our need to tell stories.

As the South Dakota cougar continues east, we get a look at how modern ecological stories have changed. Teddy Roosevelt, a bundle of bully contradictions, blusters by. There are sightings of Aldo Leopold, wolf killer turned ecological prophet. Politicians and nonprofit organizations put in appearances and make a lot of noise. And the cougar walks on, past the Twin Cities, across the Mississippi River, past Green Bay and across Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. He vanishes for a time, then, nearly a year later, he’s seen in a back yard in Lake George, N.Y.

Summarizing recent studies that sprang from monitoring predators in Yellowstone, Stolzenburg describes healthy “landscapes of fear,” that is, how entire ecosystems improve when missing predators return. Fearful grazers retreat into the shadows, thus allowing saplings and flowers to grow, thus allowing bugs and beavers and birds to return, thus allowing rivers to run clear. In a corner of Wyoming, the key is wolves preying on elk. Nearly everywhere else it could be cougars and deer.

The landscape of fear that we are today a part of is rather different. Our primordial nightmares still exist, though we no longer have to retreat into the shadows. Tools like fire and firepower make us think we are kings of the jungle, whether verdant or concrete, and Stolzenburg’s telling of the cougar’s trek often made me shake my head at our misguided actions. But he describes some wise actions, too.

The cougar’s unexpected trip through wild and domestic, rural and urban, shows that to preserve predators and the health of the land we need more than ecosystem restoration and linkages. Let’s embrace some mystery — easy enough when considering a ghost cat. Perhaps more importantly, we ought to increase the three C’s of the wilderness restoration mantra to four: Cores, corridors, carnivores – and compassion. More stories like "Heart of a Lion" would help.

— Jake Vail is an Information Services Assistant at Lawrence Public Library.


Ken Lassman 2 years ago

Several years ago when a mountain lion passed through our neck of the woods she/he had a noticeable effect much like you conveyed: the deer disappeared during the day, spending nights around my neighbor's house; wild turkeys became more secretive, and our dog would not wander much without me along. We took the cue and didn't let our kids walk to their grandparent's house nearby; we either walked with them or drove them in the car.

I see that with the relations between the coyotes and wild turkeys as well; if the turkeys get too numerous and wander freely in broad daylight, the coyotes come out and the wild turkeys disappear. Seems to me the predators I worry about the most concerning myself are ticks and chiggers, both probably indications of a very healthy rodent/deer population. I think I'd trade them out for a mountain lion or two, though in these parts that'd probably be wishful thinking...

Bob McCoy 2 years ago

While the cat chronicled in "Heart of a Lion" took an exceptional journey when he dispersed, those of us that are familiar with the latest science on mountain lions are not surprised by his stealth. Peer-reviewed studies in several states show that our big cats that hold territories along the Wildland-Urban Interface (WUI, where residential areas fade and wildlands begin) spend about 17% of their time on the residential side--typically stopping deer that are trying to eat your garden. Usually the pumas are unnoticed, except by the number of trail-cams installed by homeowners.

Cougars and jaguars evolved in the Americas where there were no hominids until about 14,000 years ago. Accordingly, we do not fit the prey model of these cats. Tigers, lions, and leopards, on the other hand, have had millions of years to figure out how to prey on bipeds. Keep in mind, however, that each cat is an individual. Respect them and their space. Look big, stare at the cat, don't look like food.

A study in the Zion National Park area, showed remarkable differences between areas with and without cougars, similar to the noticeable changes in Yellowstone since the return of wolves. John Laundré, well-known biologist in cougar research coined the expression "landscape of fear," which seems well-supported by scientific studies.

Thank you for this well-written review!

Cougar kitten. Courtesy of Bruce Richards.

Cougar kitten. Courtesy of Bruce Richards. by Bob McCoy

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