The Natural World: Mountain Lions

Katie Maher Fine Art

EARLY MORNING, BEFORE the sun even hinted at dawn, I walked the dog along our suburban sidewalk, with numerous streetlights illuminating our way. I spotted movement ahead — a sizable four-legged form padding silently away, a long tail draped in a graceful curve nearly touching the ground. That’s all I saw but I didn’t need …

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Colorado’s Three Native Cats

By Ed Quillen

(Editor’s note: This article first appeared in the May 1999 issue of Colorado Central Magazine. Since that time, it has consistently been one of the top accessed posts on our website, coloradocentralmagazine.com. We’re not sure what the reason is for that, but we thought we’d share the original article with our print readers.)

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Dispatch from the Edge

By Peter Anderson

Eastbound clouds stall out over the high peaks of the Sangres. Others, low and gray, drape the big valley sky to the west. It is a restless season. I imagine the bears are on the move … such a fierce hunger before the big sleep, and the rose hips are ripe. A bull elk climbs slopes so thick with pinyon and juniper, it’s hard to guide his big rack through the branches. He is moving away from last night’s smoke, the hunter’s fire. And he is moving away from my wife Grace and I, who are walking and talking quietly on the trail below him, watching the white dog as he noses through a pile of old cow bones.

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