23 · Extra Chapter 8: Animals
(This chapter is a field observation diary of an animal behaviorist at the University of Nevada, Reno.)
1.
I've been tracking that cougar for two years. It's the largest cougar I've ever seen in the entire American West's desert and prairie regions, the undisputed apex predator of this land. It's incredibly ferocious and has a very varied diet; I've seen it hunt elk and foxes, and I've also seen it eat rabbits and mice. Occasionally, it will prey on its own kind, even humans, and once I even witnessed it attack a pack of coyotes. And those were a huge pack of coyotes! The cougar was surrounded by them, yet they still managed to leave behind three carcasses of their own kind and flee in disarray—it's practically defying the laws of nature.
I named it "Lawrence," which means "laurel wreath" in English—brave and wise, noble and elegant, perfectly matching its temperament. It's the most beautiful large feline I've ever seen, muscular and slender, its dark golden fur blending perfectly into its environment except when it pounces on its prey. Even more amazing is its azure blue eyes; I suspect it's some kind of genetic mutation, and they're truly captivating.
This wasn't the only unusual thing about it. Last night, a lost lynx cub wandered into Lawrence's den. Lawrence was tearing apart a doe at the time, and the lynx, terrified, tried to run away, but Lawrence pinned it down with his paw. It struggled desperately, looking utterly pitiful. It was such a cute little thing, but there wasn't enough meat, not even enough to fill Lawrence's teeth. Lawrence had just finished a large meal and wasn't in a hurry to eat it; he just kept playing with it, and its cries were heartbreaking.
After a long time, Lawrence finally finished playing with the little one and carried it back to the den. I thought it had lost its appetite and was planning to feed the lynx cub later, but I never expected Lawrence to actually keep it as a pet—it was simply unbelievable. Many people think that cougars are a type of lion, but that's not the case. Cougars and lions are two different subfamilies within the Felidae family, with very different habits. Lions are social animals, but cougars are solitary, only spending time with their own kind during mating season and occasionally hunting with their families. Lawrence is even more solitary than a lone wolf; he has no so-called family. I have never seen him with other animals outside of mating season, let alone sharing a den.
What could be the reason? Was it because the little lynx was exceptionally cute? It was still a cub, easily mistaken for a tabby cat at first glance, but the small tuft of black fur on the tips of its ears unmistakably identified it as a lynx. Its appearance was somewhat like a tiger cub and somewhat like a kitten, with its exceptionally large eyes and green irises, giving it a docile and endearing look. I judged it to be a bobcat, a species within the genus *Lynx*, belonging to the subfamily Felinae, like the cougar, and closely related. While from a human aesthetic perspective, this round little creature was undeniably adorable, animal aesthetics differ; Lawrence simply found it incredibly delicious. Given this, why did Lawrence keep it by his side? I was utterly baffled.
Let's not jump to conclusions and observe patiently for a while longer.
2.
I guess Lawrence doesn't intend to eat the little lynx or release it anytime soon. For the sake of record-keeping, I'll give it a name. It rained the night Lawrence caught it, so let's call it "Ray."
When Lawrence hunted, Ray always followed closely behind, as if afraid of being left behind. I really didn't understand why it didn't run away; lynxes are very fast runners, but Ray didn't. Was it because it had no mother to feed it, couldn't find food on its own, and had to survive on the scraps and bones left over from Lawrence's meals? I wasn't sure. Actually, Ray knew how to hunt. Just a few days ago, it bit off the neck of a wild rabbit, then carried it back to its den, presenting it to Lawrence like a treasure, without eating a single bite itself. When Lawrence took it, Ray immediately wagged its short little tail, looking very happy.
I'm increasingly confused. How can it look so much like a dog?
3.
Anyone with a little common sense knows that the lynx is a carnivorous predator, also known as the lynx. It is small in size and has a very deceptive appearance, leading some people to keep them as pets. In reality, keeping a lynx is no different from keeping a tiger, leopard, python, or crocodile; they all have the potential to prey on other pets or even children in the household when their owners are not home.
Adult lynxes are even more ferocious. They and cougars are both apex predators, with comparable attack power. They even share similar diets, both feeding on rodents, various deer, and birds. If a cougar and a lynx happen to share the same territory, it's a disaster. I've observed cougars killing lynxes in Canada and lynxes killing cougars in the Rocky Mountains; while the former is more common, the latter is not uncommon. In short, killing is a shared instinct for them.
But Ray was really strange. As it grew bigger and stronger, instead of showing off against its natural enemies, it became increasingly attached to Lawrence, more like a canine than a canine itself. They ate, lived, and hunted together. When Ray was a kitten, it couldn't keep up with Lawrence, but now it could walk alongside him. Sometimes, when it was lazy and didn't want to walk, it would climb onto Lawrence's back and ask him to carry it. If Lawrence threw it off, it would cling to Lawrence's tail and hind legs, being dragged along by him.
Lawrence preferred carrying Ray in his mouth rather than the other two. As long as he bit down on the soft skin at the back of Ray's neck, Ray would freeze, motionless, letting Lawrence handle him. While this association isn't quite accurate, that's how mother cats treat their kittens. They also groomed each other. Because of the large size difference, Lawrence could easily lick Ray off balance with one lick, while Ray could only lick Lawrence little by little, panting heavily after each lick, yet still enjoying it immensely.
Nature is truly amazing.
4.
I'm devastated. They're mating! Is Lawrence sexually deranged?! They're homosexual! What could be more shocking than this?!
5.
Thanks to the almighty Creator, thanks to Lawrence and Ray. My paper documenting their behavior was published in the top journal *Nature*, and my academic spring has arrived.
6.
Lawrence is gone. It had spent the entire mating season with Ray, but one morning it suddenly disappeared.
Ray stayed in the nest for three days without eating or drinking, until Lawrence's scent dissipated.
7.
The drone and camera robot found Lawrence before Ray could. It turns out he has his own pride; he's the king, and his subjects' fervent devotion to him is no less than Ray's. Perhaps Lawrence has grown tired of Ray, after all, Ray can't reproduce for him.
8.
I think I was wrong. I just realized that Lawrence had deliberately left his scent on his way out, and Ray was slowly tracking it by the scent. They might meet soon.
Lawrence was growing impatient. After all, it was king, and it was mating season; countless male lions wanted to take its place, and countless females wanted to mate with it. At first, Lawrence hadn't been too ruthless, but recently its brutality had shattered my understanding. It hung all the male cougars it had killed on a tall oak tree—the scene was utterly gruesome. Some had been disemboweled in the fight, others had their necks bitten off, their heads nowhere to be found. The leaves and trunk were stained blood red, and the tree was teeming with scavenging vultures, a vast, dark mass from afar, like the robes of death itself—even I, a mere bystander, felt a chill.
Lawrence showed little interest in the lionesses who wanted to mate with him, mostly ignoring them. Those bold enough to approach him would be roared away by Lawrence, and those who persisted would be treated as defiant males. I've never seen such a strange lion king. If he couldn't possess as many females as possible and mate with them to pass on his superior genes to the greatest extent, what was the point of being a lion king? This simply doesn't conform to evolutionary theory.
On the other side, Ray was searching diligently. Because it hadn't lived with its own kind since childhood, its self-perception seemed somewhat distorted; it considered itself to be of Lawrence's kind, meaning it believed its biologically related members were actually its prey. Along the way, it killed no fewer than three lynxes, including females. Male lynxes rarely harm females because they can reproduce. This is yet another bizarre phenomenon that defies the laws of nature; perhaps my next paper could be titled on this. The last time an animal behaviorist won the Nobel Prize was in the 1970s; I believe that at this rate, I'll set another record sooner or later.
9.
Ray found Lawrence, which was truly a cause for celebration. They had left their pack and taken over a vast red oak forest. It was autumn now, and the mountains were ablaze with red leaves. The two big cats frolicked and leaped among the crimson foliage, or slept head to head in the trees. If prey wandered in, they would feast on it; if coyotes tried to take their territory, Lawrence would fight them bloodily, while Ray would seize the opportunity to steal and kill their cubs. After both sides were done, they would perch together in the trees, taunting the enraged but tree-climbing coyotes. Because of the heavy casualties, the wolf pack often eventually had no choice but to leave.
This is the first time I've ever seen a cougar and a lynx establish such a stable and harmonious cooperative relationship; they're practically like partners. I'm so curious about how all this happened that I've decided to collect genetic samples from Lawrence and Ray. Wish me luck!
10.
Obituary: Dr. Roger Mackinder, a senior researcher and animal behaviorist at the University of Nevada, Reno, died at the age of 44.
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