#115 "The Black Panther Betrayal" Online Book cont.

I decided to call Richard's wife and find out what kind of beer he was drinking the previous evening to make sure the mess I found was his. Whom did I get but Richard! He was supposed to be in Gainesville by now. He didn't like hearing my voice either. I asked, "Were you drinking Natural Lights last night?"
"I had about two (make that two dozen, pal).
"Did you put a forked stick in the ground for your rod?"
"Yes."
"Did you have a metal sheet over the campfire?"
"Yes, you found my spot," he replied with surprise and admiration in his gruff voice.
"Did you have a good time (a discreet reference to his condom wrapper)?"
"Yes."
"Where did you see the black panther from here?"
He started tellilng me, but what he said made no sense so I put Wayne on the phone. Richard's directions made no sense to him either. I described Richard to Wayne with a curse word, saying, "He's still at home!"
"He's waiting for his son who is late. I wouldn't want the kind of life Richard has," Wayne commented, defending Richard again."
"Why?"
"Breathing all those gases in welding."
I agreed with that since I knew nothing about welding.
"He's entitled to get blitzed on Saturday night," Wayne pressed on.
I used another strong word in a pithy sentence to describe how Richard was treating us, and then, as I am wont to do, I began to feel self-pity. "You know there is a Ph.D. in wildlife management in a little town called LaCrosse, just a few miles from where I live. This Ph.D. said these black panther sightings would drive me crazy."
With that said, Wayne and I began exploring around the sinkholes. The sand was very dry, but we did find some cat tracks that were too large for a bobcat. They had to be panther tracks. In an area of dry mud, we found a nice bear track. Around seven that evening, we were cutting limbs back from the road with my two loppers when Wayne hissed, "What was that? It wasn't a deer. It was black! It was right in the middle of the road, saw me, and streaked off!"
I backed the truck up the road to where Wayne thought the animal had gone off the road. The woods were a delight. They were full of old trees, and the land was not plowed into row after endless, knee-wrenching row for the planting and growing of young pine trees. I thought it probably was like Old Florida looked before the giant cypress trees and other hardwoods were cut down to make room for the vast pine tree plantations. Earlier we had even driven across a rock-lined creek that was dry.
After I backed up, we got out of the truck, and Wayne immediately picked up a little trail in the woods and disappeared. I stayed by the truck and listened. Twice, I heard the claws and movement of a very large animal climbing a pine tree. The sound of his claws digging into the soft bark of the pine was so distinct you could feel it.I was wearing only Nikes, but I was tempted to throw caution to the wind and get to the noise as quickly as possible. But the fear of rattlesnakes was too great. Instead, I decided to go into the same little trail Wayne had used. I reached the trail and started walking through the woods, making very little noise in my running shoes. Then I heard a rustling in the bushes behind me, up next to the truck. I decided to go back and check the noise out but could see nothing. The brush there was very thick. I should have stayed on the trail because it went in the direction from which the sounds of the climbing animal were coming from. Next time, I will wear snake-proof protection. Soon Wayne came out of the woods and reported seeing nothing. To Be Continued.

Bullets from Two-Guns: Kudos to Tasha for standing by Mocha, the chocolate lab, and encumbering a $1,000 vet bill to have her treated. I salute Kando, the Navy Seal, for twice going to the vet's with his credit card when his employees had first a very sick cat, and secondly, an injured dog. Kando's employees couldn't pay for the vet expense, but Kando backed them with his credit card. It's an honor to know people who love animals that much. peternickerson12@yahoo.com