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Happy winehikers, cavorting along a woodsy path on a late-September morning. These folks joined me last year; would you like to join me this year? If so, you’ll find all the details on my Romp through the Redwoods page.

~winehiker

Posted via web from winehiker’s posterous

The late-Summer post-Labor Day season has always been my favorite time of year for traveling. Kids are back in school, the highways are less trafficked and the pace of Time seems to shift dramatically from the hectic to the serene.

Though the nights can be chillier, there are often three to four good weeks remaining of warm days good for hiking the deserts. The aspens of the high mountains begin to morph into their many shades of gold and red, too – always a signal to me that Winter will soon voice its might. When camping at altitude in September, one must always stay vigilant knowing that sooner or later, volatile weather will be approaching.

While in camp one late morning high up on the Grand Canyon’s North Rim, the air around me seemed to take on a furious energy, suddenly whipping up a volatile frenzy of leaves and dust. Clouds had begun to loom and grow large above the rim, and the threat of an imminent thundershower was palpable. Lightning was flickering across the skies above this darkening part of the canyon, which itself portrayed a roiling juxtaposition of heat rising from its depths and cool winds aloft. The advancing smell of high-altitude ozone suggested that I had better prepare for an onslaught. I rounded up what little gear I had set out in camp and had no sooner packed it away in the truck when those thunderbumpers opened up and spattered down.

I latched the tailgate, dove in over it and latched the camper shell door behind me just as the deluge struck. Within seconds my life was reduced to a penetrating, deadening roar of rain on the camper-shell roof; I was suddenly witnessing the heaviest downpour I had ever experienced. I could do nothing but simply wait out the storm, marveling at its ferocity, huddled there in my truck, as the water level upon the ground grew alarmingly fast around me.

The raven, according to Native American legend, brings light to the world.

In fifteen minutes it was all over. In thirty minutes the skies were completely clear. The abrupt temperature drop that preceded the storm had now reversed and steam was rising everywhere – an evaporation so profound as if to suggest I was suddenly living in a time-lapsed eternity. The silence in those moments was almost as eerie as the spectacle itself. I opened the camper door and stared out at Nature’s tableau, drinking it in, and allowed my mind to wander.

Within moments, as the mists cleared and the ground drained of water, I seemed to feel rather than hear a distant, steady whock whock whock, growing louder, drawing nearer. And then a large shadow, moving quickly, passed low overhead. I smiled as a raven appeared, larger than life, ten feet above the truck. I watched it fly away down the clearing below me, heavy wings flapping, clearing the silence before it.

And Life came back to the Rim.

~winehiker

Back in mid-March, on a dry day after a bout of Spring rains, I kidnapped my mom and drove her down into the southern part of my native Santa Clara County to a place she’d never been before. Tucked up into the eastern slopes of the southern Santa Cruz Mountain range, Uvas Canyon is a lovely yet seemingly remote 1,200-acre county park featuring well-maintained trails, picnic tables, four waterfalls and easy hiking that I knew mom could enjoy. As we wandered up the mild slopes of the Swanson Creek basin, I found myself wondering why I hadn’t brought mom here previously - she simply marveled at the lushness of the redwood and hardwood forests, not to mention the roar and tumult of the falls.

Though my little Minolta D’Image Xt is not designed for high-quality video, I find that, as a regular hiker, the camera is very easy to carry in my trouser pocket. I’d been meaning to experiment with video and video editing software, and while hiking at Uvas I felt the urge. What you’ll see in the 3-minute video below are three of the waterfalls at Uvas Canyon, namely Black Rock Falls, Upper Falls and Basin Falls. Believe it or not, it’s the first video I’ve ever published.

Would you take your mom here? I believe that if you could, you surely would.

~winehiker

The sweeping grassy cow-cropped ridges of Vista Grande Trail, looking southeast.

I love to return to Sunol Regional Wilderness every Spring. Sometimes my timing is right and I’ll be greeted by welcome displays of orange California poppies and purple lupines. But even when I’ve arrived a week or two early and the wildflowers haven’t yet wandered onto Nature’s stage, I still find Sunol’s vast expanse of oak-dotted, green-velvet hillsides soothing to my soul.

And to my soles! For Sunol Wilderness, a gleaming gem in the East Bay Regional Park District’s treasure trove of managed lands, is also a hiker’s paradise, offering hiking challenges large and small. From families enjoying a creekside Nature Walk to outback overnighters who wish to explore Sunol’s hilly, bucolic backcountry, and to dayhikers like us - outside and on the trail - we all come to breathe the wind-washed air, to smell the oak and the laurel, and to feel the sun and the spirited beating of our light and happy hearts.

Before all was said and done early this past March, our crew of 16 had squandered away five precious hours hiking over seven glorious miles, a time which included plenty of stopping to enjoy splendor and distance, diversion and serendipity, and the sound of each others’ laughter.

True to form, our day at Sunol Wilderness was yet another classic episode in a series of wanton, whimsical squandrage. And we were all the better for it.

Descending from the upper reaches of Vista Grande Trail.

Yes indeed, it is another High Gorgeosity Factor day in sunny California.

The view down upon High Valley from our Vista Grande Trail vantage point.

Calaveras Reservoir, looking southward from Vista Grande Trail, Sunol Regional Park.

My fellow hikers pausing at Vista Grande Overlook, with Mission Peak looming behind.

Approaching Sunol Regional Wilderness Park’s High Valley Camp.

The horse stable at High Valley Camp.

The view south toward Calaveras Reservoir from atop our destination, Flag Hill.

Me, Mr. Winehiker Guy, posing atop Flag Hill, Sunol Regional Park. Howdy!!

Looking west from the approach to Flag Hill toward Maguire Peaks.

From Flag Hill looking directly down upon the Sunol Visitors Center. Oh, the vertigo!!

A not-too-atypical juxtaposition of rock, tree, meadow and sky.

The pastoral splendor of High Valley Camp from above. I love this wide-open country.

—————-
April may soon be drawing to a close, but there’s still time to explore and enjoy Sunol Wilderness before the heat of summer turns those East Bay hills from green to gold. Meanwhile, the wildflowers are putting on quite a show as I write these words, and they’re waiting to greet you and your camera.* You need to put on your boots, go to Sunol, and squander some precious time.**

~winehiker

*For an even better visual treat, I recommend viewing this fine photoset from my friend and hiking companion Yi Ding, who was along on this adventure.

**If you’d like me to accompany you at Sunol - and if we can arrange it - you’ll find a trail that’s tailored to you as well as learn the names of a number of pretty wildflowers. Plus, I’ll show you where the wine is being poured!

A hiker’s view of The Palisades, above the Napa Valley floor. Image source: yelp.com.

Table Rock is a flat rocky outcrop surmounting The Palisades, a craggy set of cliffs on the northeast edge of Napa Valley, prominently visible from downtown Calistoga. Walking the trail to Table Rock, high above the vineyards of the valley, you may hear the scream of a nearby raptor and, through binoculars, the sharp-eyed might just see a Peregrine Falcon perched on a rock below.

Despite what you see and hear, however, it is the Table Rock Trail itself that is among the most captivating in the California wine country. When joined with the Palisades Trail and the historic Oat Hill Mine Road, the Table Rock trail combines amazing 19th-century trail engineering with bizarre rock formations, a pygmy knobcone pine forest, and nonstop spectacular views. In the cooler months, when rain-washed skies are free of summer’s haze, one can smell the volcanic dust below one’s feet, then look up to behold a vista extending 100 miles.

If you’ve read this far - and, assuming you like to hike - I’ve got a proposition for you: how’d you like to hike to Table Rock with me? Furthermore, if you knew you had an option to, rather than a simple four-mile out-and-back walk, instead walk the complete ten-mile mildly-butt-kicking route from summit to valley floor, would you raise your hand to volunteer?

And, if you also knew you’d be hiking - above Napa Valley, mind you - with a handful of winemakers, would you shout “just lemme grab my boots”?

Then save the following date, fellow winehiker, for we shall meet to experience the glory that is The Palisades on Saturday, November 22nd, at 8:30 a.m. After the hike is over, we’ll drive a little ways down the Silverado Trail to nearby Cuvaison Winery, where we’ll bask in happy euphoria over a potluck lunch, great local wines, and - if we’re of a mind to - a round or two of bocce ball.

Thus far there are 9 people interested in joining me on this hike, including Dick and Kathy Keenan of Kick Ranch Vineyards, who originally approached me with the idea for this outing. I’m thinking of capping the group at a manageable 15 people, however, so if you’d like to sign up, don’t wait too long to do it! Merely leave a comment to this post that includes your email address, and also let me know if you’re interested in the moderately easy four-mile out-and-back option or the relatively strenuous ten-mile one-way option. I’ll get back to you with driving directions and additional details.

Thanks! I look forward to walking The Palisades with you.

~winehiker

The Flamingo Resort & Spa was host to 175 wine bloggers at the October 24-26 Wine Bloggers Conference.

It’s amazing what can happen after you make the decision to start blogging. I’ve been at it just shy of three years, and I couldn’t have surmised three years ago where it might someday take me. Yet I’ve now enjoyed the rare good privilege in this past year to attend both last weekend’s First Annual North American Wine Bloggers Conference (WBC) and last October’s first Outdoor Blogger Ho-Down. That Ho-Down, organized by Tom Mangan, author of the Two-Heel Drive blog, assembled a handful of hikers, mountain climbers, flyfishers and other outdoor folks from various places around the North American continent. It was a rustic and simple event, as an outdoorsy types’ convention probably ought to be; the only real organizational aspect required prior to convening bein’ the menu, bein’ as how we hikin’ types tend to be healthy eaters. Naturally, I did all the cookin’. And, quite naturally, we hikers all savored a little wine tasting (OK, truth: a lot of wine drinking and singing Eagles songs around our campfire), but we definitely made hiking the lower slopes of Mount Shasta and an enticing section of the Pacific Crest Trail a major part of that highly memorable weekend.

It’s one year later, and I have experienced the other end of the winehiking spectrum. Last Friday at noon I strode into the lobby of Santa Rosa’s Flamingo Resort & Spa and found myself surprised to immediately recognize a myriad number of faces, most of which I’d only seen previously in 75×75-pixel avatars! Even more surprising was my fellow wine bloggers’ ability to recognize me, I remember thinking - being that my avatar doesn’t prominently present my face. Some, however, did ask me why my apparently-iconic leather Aussie hat wasn’t affixed to my head. True, I suppose, that I might have met more of my kindred spirits if I’d been wearing The Hat on Friday afternooon - being that more of them might have recognized me - but, well, I guess I didn’t figure on the weekend’s sunny weather streaming its welcome rays completely inside our fully-roofed conference hall, somehow.

Still, it was almost difficult to get the conference started - at least for me. It was simply über cool to chat for the first time, face-to-face, with a dozen of my fellow wine-blogging brothers and sisters, many of whom I had only met online or in some manner become consistently enamored of their online personalities over these past three years. And yet I knew, going in, that though our individual blogs had represented initial forays into the relationships we now enjoy, it has been the powerful community-building aspects of Twitter that has firmly cemented the foundation of our wine blogging community. The conference has only solidified that notion, and its outcome has proven it. Therefore I think it’s safe to say that our particular slice of the Twitterverse has been largely responsible for creating the brotherly/sisterly aura that very palpably graced our weekend. I, for one, was high on the pure headiness of finally connecting with good friends face to face, for good friends is simply what we know we have become. Then again, the effects of tasting over two hundred different wines together over the course of the weekend might also have had something to do with it.

Walking the vineyards at Murphy Goode

Despite the prodigious quantity of wine that I spat and swallowed over the course of the weekend, I harbor many heady and lingering memories of what was, to me, a very powerful gathering of wine industry influencers. For influencers we realize we actually are, we wine bloggers. I know this because I’ve seen - and my wine-blogging colleagues tend to agree - that the steady advance of wine bloggerdom has democratized the conversations that are occurring between winemakers and wine drinkers - increasingly bypassing the major media middle ground - and it is wine blogs that have largely leveled the playing field simply by virtue of current social networking technologies that have streamlined publishing timelines, increased the abilities of wine lovers to interact, and fired the ovens of pure immediate possibility that drives us vinoscribes.

Last weekend clearly amplified the notion of what a blog can do, especially when that blog is part of a vital and growing community. It’s simple math: the power of one blogger’s network influences the power of another’s. Those network influences are, simply, growing in parabolic parallel to the number of active wine blogs. Factor in the firmly established global trend toward increased wine consumption, and you have a juggernaut in waiting.

Or at least you did until this past weekend. Now it’s out of design and in process, a full-fledged rockin’-good rocket ship, and the word is out, people: wine blogs are being perceived in the greater world community as having a dominant, credible, and seasoned citizen voice - a voice that solidly represents a new world that will democratize the acquisition and enjoyment of wine.

If that weren’t true, our legion of 175 attendees would not have been globally profiled as the Number 2 Twitter Topic during Friday afternoon’s Live Blogging Session, right behind Senator Barack Obama. Neither would we have been courted as a group so remarkably by the Sonoma County winemaking and wine marketing community (and many beyond its borders) to whom we North American wine bloggers owe many, many thanks. Those Sonoma County wine folks - they just plain get it.

You know, of seemingly small decisions - such as starting a blog to support your business - big consequences do come. As I write these words, I’m reminded of all that I have gained from authoring a blog: voice, creativity, passion, friends, memories, technological skills, an accelerated social networking climate and an improved writing desire - these are but a few. Conversely, there are the multiple inhibitions I have since lost, as if they are simply no longer required and now lie scattered, smattered, shattered and broken in my wake like so many cheap bottles of Tokay lining that not-so-easily-forgettable, greasy and weed-filled snake-infested roadside ditch that parallels the road to one’s desires.

(OK, so I haven’t lost the touch for writing blue prose. Who indeed, at 80, can claim they are finally satiated with desire? Yes, it’s true: I’m only 51. But I plan to be 80 someday. And I’m going to keep traveling that road. Plus, it’s my blog! And it is the blog that is the vehicle - precisely the point of this WBC exercise.)

Overlooking the vineyards of Rodney Strong

Indeed, there are an amazing number of worthy WBC topics that I could jump into. But, being that many great posts about the conference have already been published this past week by my fellow influencers, I’ll instead share a little Link Love here - not that this will be my final word on WBC08.

I therefore present the following links to stories and accounts of the 2008 Wine Bloggers Conference that are very much worth reading, if for no other reason than to impart a grand perspective of what many of us feel was a very historic and paradigm-shifting wine-inspired occasion. Read on! There’s great stuff below worth clicking to from good people in my life - people who, in many wonderful ways, have become affixed to my head.

In case you’re not in the mood for further reading, however, you might simply enjoy a few pics from the weekend.

Kick Ranch Kickoff
from Hardy Wallace of Dirty South Wine, Grimace Says Sleep is for the WEAK! Wine Bloggers Conference Day 1

Speed Tasting/Live Blogging
from Michelle Lentz of My Wine Education, Wine Blogger Conference: Live Blogging Event
from Phillip James of Snooth, Wine Bloggers Conference tasting insanity…
from Rémy Charest of Wine Case, Blogging Live from Santa Rosa, CA
from Lenn Thompson of LENNDEVOURS, Live Blogging @ Wine Blogging Conference 2008
from John Witherspoon of Anything Wine, Live Blogging from the Wine Bloggers Conference 2008

Blind Tasting Challenge
from Chris Butts of The Kilted Blog, Blind Tasting

100 New Zealand wines
from Amy Corron Power of Another Wine Blog, Palate Shock

Gary Vaynerchuk and Alice Feiring: Crush it, and Stir the Pot!
from Tom Wark of Fermentation, The Battle For Wine and How I Learned to Love Alice Feiring
from Amy Atwood of My Daily Wine, Fire Starter
from Becky B of Smells Like Grape, Gary V. Upstaged at WBC?

The Vineyard Walks
from Ken Payton of Reign of Terroir, Hiking Rockaway Vineyard With Doug McIlroy
from Michelle Lentz of My Wine Education, Photos: Wine Bloggers Conference and Russian River Valley Hike
from Diane Letulle of Wine Lover’s Journal, WBC — Russian River Valley Hike
from Megan of WineClubbie, An Inside Look at Michel-Schlumberger
from Becky B of Smells Like Grape, Saralee’s Vineyard & the Russian River Valley
from Gwendolyn Alley of Art Predator, Biodynamic & mostly organic: Quivira
from Tim Lemke of Cheap Wine Ratings, Rodney Strong Charlotte’s Home Sauvignon Blanc

Discussion Panels Break Out
from Michael Wangbickler of Caveman Wines, Wine Bloggers Conference Breakout Sessions

Blogging from a Bus
from Gwendolyn Alley of Art Predator, WiFi on the bus: only in America

The Luxe Tasting
from Ken Hoggins of Ken’s Wine Guide, Reviewing Wine At The Wine Bloggers Conference - Day 2

The Unconference
from Michael Wangbickler of Caveman Wines, The Wine Blogger Unconference
from Alder Yarrow of Vinography, Is There Any Point to Negative Wine Reviews?
from John Witherspoon of Anything Wine, From the Wine Bloggers Conference - My thoughts on credibility

That’s a wrap
from Lisa de Bruin of California Life: Better Than Happy Hour, Wine Industry Shift
from Jeff Lefevere of Good Grape, Postscript Thoughts on the Wine Blogging Conference
from Tom Wark of Fermentation, 13 Things I learned at the Wine Bloggers Conference
from Jo Diaz of Wine Blog, Wine Bloggers Conference: The 10 Most Important Things I Learned
from Michael Wangbickler of Caveman Wines, Final Thoughts on WBC 2008

~winehiker

“Follow me, señor.”

The voice spoke to me in a baritone, richly smooth in timbre, uniquely Castilian in tongue, yet it was coming from inside my head. Or so it seemed. Willingly, I shouldered my Camelbak and complied with the voice.

Along the gentle westward grade of Rogue Valley Trail I followed the voice, stepping upward through the deep bay forests of Wildcat Loop, ever rising above the high meadows of Rancho San Antonio. I climbed, mile after mile, all the while that voice repeating in my mind’s ear.

“Come with me, señor.”

The voice resonated from without and within, always gentle, never chiding, yet powerfully intoxicating, so much so that I could not begin to disobey its alluring imperative. I was a mound of unshaped clay under the voice’s command, ready to be molded into whatever guise I was to become. It was if I was guided by the unseen hand of Nephi.

I was just glad I had my boots on.

At five miles, at last I reached the high point of the trail, a place uncrowded, serene, and glowing with warm sunshine. Panting slightly and ready for lunch, I stepped into a semi-secret off-trail oasis that few could know, one that would afford me a commanding view. I doffed my pack and reached in to relieve it of its edibles. That’s when I discovered the Torremoron.

Strange it was that I had not felt the pack’s extra weight on that climb. Light of foot on the trail yet heavy with hunger now, I tore into my roast beef-and-grilled pepper sandwich and studied the bottle’s label.

Ribera Del Duero
Denominacion de Origen
Torremoron
Tempranillo 2006
Estate Bottled by Bodegas Torremoron S.C.
Quintanamanvirgo - Burgos - Spain
100% Tempranillo

Without thinking, I set down my sandwich only to find my Swiss Army knife suddenly appearing in my hand, corkscrew at the ready. And, as if to demonstrate to me that miracles do occur, a wine glass dramatically appeared, intact and whole, gleaming inside my pack. I smiled to myself, feeling glad I had risen out of bed this morning.

“Drink me, señor.”

And so I opened the Torremoron and, setting serenely on top of a hillside, I poured. I studied the glass, sitting silently, complaining of nothing, contemplating everything. Beyond a mere breath of wind on my cheek, there was a fine stillness. As the morning drew toward noon, juncos chattered in the thickets below and the dry grasses of Autumn whispered their secrets. I swirled the glass, catching the late-morning sunlight in the wine’s many crimson facets. I could hear my own heart pumping, as if it were the drumbeat of misión ejemplar, a call to action!

I drank. The Torremoron was at once delicious, cherry red, and meaty. Full-bodied, concentrated, and rich with aromatic earth, cinnamon spice and fruit flavor, well-balanced in palate and exquisite in finish, a wine for the season, heady with promise, underpinned by lush desire and strong passion. It was a wine divine, one only the Spanish could make. A wine both easy on the wallet and easy to call mi vino de la casa. And I didn’t even have to be en la casa!

I wanted to taste every drop of it.

I poured again, and listened for the voice. But there was no longer any voice; it had become—¡evolucionado!—something so much more profound.

For in this Tempranillo Tinto, I tasted—I had become—the very soul of Iberia.

Heat: 13% alcohol by volume
Closure: plastic
Price: US$11.99 per 750ml bottle
Where purchased: BevMo, where it is on sale now

Rancho San Antonio Open Space Preserve is nestled in the western foothills of the Santa Clara Valley above the town of Cupertino. Here’s how to get there:

From Interstate 280 North or South, take the Foothill Boulevard exit and proceed south on Foothill Boulevard approximately 0.2-mile to Cristo Rey Drive. Turn right on Cristo Rey Drive, continue for about 1 mile, veer right around the traffic circle/roundabout, and turn left into the County Park entrance. There are several parking lots, including a dirt lot designated for equestrian trailers. The trailhead for the preserve is located adjacent to the 85-car parking area in the northwest lot.

A virtual clink of the wineglass to all who have participated in this month’s Wine Blogging Wednesday, the 50th in a series originally conceived by Lenn Thompson at LENNDEVOURS.

~winehiker

This past Saturday was a rollicking blast. There’s something about a group of family and friends that not only want to go winehiking, but want to celebrate a birthday, too. Add a couple of girlfriends who just want to have fun, and, well, who am I to forsake a celebration? I decided that the Birthday Boy among us, an enterprising fellow named Lee, should not only enjoy a fun Romp in the Redwoods, but a post-hike bottle of Mumm’s and a chocolate ganache birthday cake, too.

But wouldn’t you know: everyone had a good romp!

On the bridge adjacent to the confluence of the north and south forks of Fall Creek, a group pose. From left to right are Fred, Helen, Stacey, Lee, Jenny, Bob, and myself. Not pictured: Deirdre and Erica.


One of the myriad downed trees that make hiking at Fall Creek such a neat adventure.

There are so many crossings along the South Fork of Fall Creek that it’s easy to lose count of them.


Jenny looks, to me, like a natural-born hiker. I think she’s ready to visit Fall Creek again.

Here come the rest of the troops, tripping merrily along the woodsy morning.


Sylvan Oasis Moment #214.


On one tiny spot along the creekbank: Did these happily fecund ladybugs all meet on ladybug.ning.com? Like that old hoofer Jimmy Durante might say, Fall Creek’s “got a million of ’em”.

The Fungus Federation of Santa Cruz says: When it rains, it spores. It’s not clear which species of fungus this specimen is, but it’s a mighty bright and colorful variety of tree fungus.


That’s Birthday Boy Lee discovering an alternate way to cross Fall Creek.

One of my guests inquired about this snazzy little creekside plant; its bright-orange fruit had caught her eye. It’s called a Watermelon Berry (Streptopus amplexifolius).

Hallcrest Vineyards & Winery, in all its radiant late-summer splendor. Shortly after I snapped this photo, the Hallcrest production crew delivered a few bins of cold-stored pinot grapes, which were compact yet quite flavorful.


In the Hallcrest tasting room. From right to left, that’s Jenny, husband Bob talking to son Lee, Helen and Fred (behind Lee), Brittany (a.k.a. @WineQT), and Deirdre (a.k.a. Dee Dee). That’s Amy behind the bar.

Ours was a lively and fun group of hikers who not only enjoyed the hike but loved to eat, too. It was immensely gratifying to me to see nearly all of them go back for seconds on lunch—before even tasting any wine!

Next up: an easy 4-mile out-n’-back hike along the Zinfandel Trail, with a winery at both ends! Just wait’ll you see what I’m fixin’ for lunch.

Ready for a winehike? You know who to call on.

~winehiker

UPDATE: Please allow me to preface the following post by stating that prior to my writing it, I was not aware that the lone hiker that I describe below had pulled a hoax on authorities; he was not attacked by a mountain lion. Despite this galling evidence, the following post is still pertinent to hiking in mountain lion country.

Last Saturday a local hiker was attacked by a mountain lion in Palo Alto’s Foothills Park. The hiker was hiking alone. Yesterday, in response to the incident, a number of area parks and preserves were temporarily shut down and an animal tracker was hired by Palo Alto city officials to hunt the mountain lion down and kill it. I vehemently disagree with this knee-jerk tactic.

Late this morning, a fellow hiker posted the names of the closed parks on a local bulletin board, mentioning that the Midpeninsula Open Space District is working closely with Foothills Park staff and that the California Department of Fish and Game will reopen these preserves and facilities as soon as it is safe.

The posting was meant well. To me, however, it was only half the story. I felt compelled to tell the other half, so I contributed a post of my own:

The reason that these local parks and preserves are temporarily closed is so an “animal tracker” (read: “hunter”) can kill the mountain lion without interference. It’s a shame that our first instinct, as a society, is to kill a big cat rather than trap it humanely and release it in a more remote area. We have to get used to the fact that wilderness isn’t wilderness if we keep killing what’s wild in it.

My fellow hiker wrote me directly:

In receiving my volunteer trail crew training, it was explained to us that, more often than not, when the animals responsible for the attacks on humans are caught, they are found to be injured or demented. This drives them into behavior patterns they normally wouldn’t have…like attacking humans. In these cases, they typically prefer to put the animal down. Some of the other cases, where the animal has been killed and no attacks were involved, I would agree, seems a bit excessive.

A-ha! “When the animals…are caught…[we] typically prefer to put the animal down.” Hence my argument.

Let’s face it: oftentimes the explanations we hear and read are biased only toward humans, not toward the animal. When you’re truly hungry—as a top-of-the-food-chain predator might be in times of drought—you’ll do what is necessary to eat. That’s just true nature at work.

A non-rescuscible injured cat I can understand euthanizing. Maybe. But pronouncing an animal to be demented is, I feel, a subjective, narrow-minded, human-centric, and therefore wholly inappropriate judgment that merely serves to perpetuate our human fear of nature and our unwarranted desire to control it—i.e., sanitize the outdoor experience—rather than embrace it. It is issues like this that regularly remind me that it’s we humans who need to reconsider our own behavior patterns.

I said as much in response to my fellow hiker’s email, and received the following response:

Demented animals are determined to be so by the results of lab tests and autopsy, not arbitrary pronouncements. Each case has to be assessed individually.

I felt as if my argument had fallen overboard into The Sea of Missed Points. So I hoisted it back aboard:

Therefore, it would seem that to be pronounced demented, the cougar is likely killed first. That scenario smacks of being a typical application of misguided human-centric “shoot first and ask questions later” logic rather than a consideration of the life and needs of the animal itself. Typical human behavior, yet still wholly inappropriate.

I’d sure like to learn of a cougar who attacked a human but whose life was spared.

We have to remember that we humans are visitors in the cougar’s habitat; it is not the other way around. Soon, I suppose—perhaps by the hour of this posting—there will be one less local cougar merely because we as a society have chosen to react with extreme prejudice to its choice of menu. I’m sure the accosted hiker knows how lucky he was despite his decision to hike alone in an area where mountain lion warnings are clearly posted. But, sadly, it is the mountain lion’s demise that will be exchanged for this hiker’s lucky break.

I haven’t even begun to mention what happens to a local ecosystem when you remove its top predator. But an increase in highway fatalities due to excessive deer populations springs to mind.

So why do we even choose to capture these big cats? They are not demented; they do not run afoul of natural law. But we humans do it without regard.

We seem to continue, as a society, to act as sociopaths against Nature. We jump to conclusions based on our own point of view. We gun down what we don’t understand. We often say “live and let live”; why don’t we mean it?

So when a mountain lion attacks, why do we shoot first and ask questions later? I am hereby asking, people.

We need cougars in our local hills. Let Nature take its course. Take pictures, not lives. And don’t hike alone.

Related post: Cougar!

~winehiker