“She’s seen a jaguar up there more than once?” Chris sipped tea at his kitchen table. “Maybe it was really a mountain lion.”
Cait shrugged. “She knows what a jaguar looks like. Big muscular cat, golden body speckled with black rosettes. Doesn’t that description fit the bill?”
Chris met her gaze. “Unless she’s making it up for some reason. What’s she like?”
“She’s a friendly Tohono O’odham lady in her sixties or seventies. She hikes a lot in Saguaro National Park East and says her family gathers saguaro fruit there every June. Her husband, Arthur Reynolds, is a white sociology professor at the U of A in Tucson. Why would she lie about seeing a jaguar?”
“Don’t know. It’s entirely possible a jaguar is living in the Rincons. Southern Arizona is part of their historical range.” Chris swirled the tea bag in his cup. “A male cat’s been sighted several times in the Santa Rita Mountains south of here. It could have traveled to the Rincons, or the one Estrella saw could be a different animal. There aren’t any research trail cams in the Rincons I know of, so if a jaguar is hanging out there, that’s big news. Those mountains don’t have a paved road to the ridge tops, like the highway up the Catalinas, so there aren’t nearly as many hikers or visitors.”
“It gets complicated. Estrella and her husband claim their neighbors, a pair of redneck brothers, shoot wildlife for the fun of it. One of them, Jer Wester, is a maintenance worker for Saguaro National Park. She’s worried that if he hears through the park grapevine about a jaguar up in the Rincons, Jer and his brother Curt will be gunning for it. So she’s kept quiet about the cat until now. She asked that you be careful who you talk to.”
“I know a park service biologist I might approach.” Chris grew animated as he warmed to the subject. “I might confide in some environmental groups involved in protecting the sky island mountain ranges in the Southwest. I’d tend to stay away from state fish and game types, and even the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. There was a nasty controversy years back about a male jaguar that eventually died after it was trapped and released by state biologists. The capture had not been authorized but that didn’t stop researchers hungry for grant money and glory. They secretly set a trap baited with scat from a female jaguar in heat. Get this, the lead researcher who set the trap was in Europe when the animal was caught. He was the only one who could monitor GPS transmissions from the animal’s collar, not wildlife people in Arizona. The collared jaguar sickened, was eventually caught again and euthanized. If there’s a spotted cat in the Rincons, I don’t want bureaucrats squabbling over it.
“Another issue is jaguar habitat, a political hot potato. An international corporation is trying to develop a huge copper mine in the Santa Ritas. They would fight the idea of that area being considered jaguar territory. Some officials argue that just because a cat wanders into the U.S. from Mexico, that doesn’t mean land needs to be set aside in our country to protect jaguars. You’re right, the more people who know about this cat, the higher chance of it being hunted.”
“I told Estrella you’d call her tonight.” Cait shifted in her chair. “I believe her when she says she’s seen the cat several times. If you asked our Zuni relatives, they’d say the jaguar was contacting her through her dreams. I’m afraid I’ve moved too far from my roots. I have a hard time thinking such things are possible.”
“Maybe her subconscious incorporated her worries into her dreams.” Chris finished his tea and put the cup in the sink.
“So what can you do to protect it?”
“Depends. It will be hard to prove someone’s tracking animals in the park or the Rincon Mountain Wilderness. That’s a huge area to monitor. They could be coming in from trails off Redington Pass Road in the north or Pistol Hill Road in the south. Or from dirt roads and trails from Cascabel in the east. We could install a bunch of motion-activated trail cams, but they won’t stop someone from bagging a jaguar.” Chris picked up his cell phone. “Where’s her number?”
Cait retreated to the front porch while her brother called Estrella. She wrapped herself in a blanket against the night chill and listened to the yips of a lone coyote. Headlights winked through the desert scrub as evening traffic sped by on Old Spanish Trail outside the park entrance.
A half hour later, Chris joined her outside. “She sounds like a nice lady. I’m amazed she goes up in the Rincons by herself, especially at her age.”
“What do you think about her story?”
“I’m not entirely convinced. Maybe she saw an ocelot. But I’ll call Jon Angel, the park biologist I mentioned, see what he thinks. He seems trustworthy. I’m new to the Park Service here, so I don’t want to make it sound like I’m telling him what to do. I’ll ask about putting trail cams where Estrella says she saw the cat. I’ll relay her worries about hunters.” Chris clinched his hands behind his neck and leaned back in his lawn chair. “Imagine, Panthera onca, the largest wild cat in the Americas, prowling out there. Right above Tucson. What if it’s for real?”
***
Early the next morning, Cait and Chris braved the cold for a short run out and back along Cactus Forest Drive. The pink sunrise had brightened to a pale blue sky when they returned to his place. Inside, they sat down to breakfast and watched through a window as a hummingbird sampled sugar water from a glass feeder.
“How’s Jack recovering? Mentally as well as physically?”
“His arm’s healing up, that’s the easy part.” Cait sipped her coffee. The sense of well-being brought on by a good run faded away. “But he feels guilty that he survived and his partner didn’t. He couldn’t have known what was going to happen, but still he feels like he screwed up.”
“That’s a lot to deal with. He’s up against a real bad guy.” Chris dug into a burrito.
“Sonny Para is a threat to us all. You, me, Jack, our families.” Cait set her mug down hard and slopped coffee onto the table. “He’s a monster. He killed the parents of an informant who was working with Jack and his partner. And probably lots of other people who got on his wrong side.”
She explained how she and Jack had spotted the informant, Jason Gonzalez, hitchhiking in Tucson days ago. “We put him up in a motel. Later that day, someone in a SUV shot at him in the parking lot. Could be the same gunmen from Sandario Road. We think they were tracking us for Para, and they spotted Jason. Anyway, he’s flown the coup again.”
“Let me know if I can help. I’ll call that biologist today.” Chris carried his plate to the sink.
As her brother got ready for work, Cait looked at a trail map of Saguaro National Park East and the area where Estrella had seen the big cat.
After Chris left, she quickly showered, dressed for hiking, and filled a backpack with water bottles, snacks and sunscreen. Then she drove to the Tucson Medical Center to see Fern and Clark Bush.
Fern seemed listless and blue, although she was in better shape than her son. Her nurse told Cait the older woman was scheduled to be released the following day.
“I’ll be here in the morning to take her to her apartment and get her settled,” Cait said.
Next, Cait checked in on Clark, out of the ICU and in a regular hospital room. She was relieved he was up and walking around. His face was still a mess, but his attitude was upbeat.
“I have a dental appointment later this week,” he managed. “Trust me, liquid diets are no fun. Though I may lose some weight.”
Cait gave him a gentle hug. “I’m so glad to see you doing better.” She told him about finding an apartment for Fern and him.
“I can’t thank you enough. Mom’s sure down in the dumps. I told her not to fret, I’ll be her mountain.” He touched his bandaged nose. “I’m going to look like an old prizefighter.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Cait touched his shoulder. Clark was setting aside an embattled past with his parents in order to help his mother.
She left the medical center and arrived at Estrella’s house a little before ten. They set off for Saguaro Park East, where Cait drove the Cactus Forest Loop to the parking lot by the Javelina Rocks Overlook.
By the time they started out on the Tanque Verde Ridge Trail, the overnight mid-thirties had warmed to a mild fifty degrees. Still, they kept their jackets on. Dark-bottomed clouds rolling in from the northwest blocked the sun and threatened rain or even snow at higher elevations.
Cool temperatures made for easier hiking. Their goal was to cover about seven miles and wind up just beyond Juniper Basin, in an area where Estrella had seen the jaguar.
As Cait hiked, she took note of all the plants that endured the Sonoran Desert’s blistering summer. Along with saguaros and small-leafed desert shrubs, she counted barrel cactus, ocotillo, pincushion cactus, agave, yucca, and various types of cholla and prickly pear.
Estrella’s brisk pace surprised Cait, especially as the grade steepened and loose rock threatened to send them tumbling.
After a long, arduous climb through grassland and into oak and pine woodland, they took a break.
“Look at that.” Cait gulped water, ate a snack, and looked out over the desert floor below. To the north, the lofty Santa Catalina Mountains dominated the skyline with carpets of evergreen forest interrupted by granite crags.
She didn’t expect to spot a jaguar. Wildlife in general avoided humans, and big cats were especially secretive. Estrella’s story might be a wishful fantasy based on a dreamscape.
Their destination was an area between Juniper Basin Camp and Tanque Verde Peak, which rose over 7,000 feet. Estrella said she’d seen the animal peeking at her once from behind a scrubby oak near Juniper Basin. Another time she’d spotted the cat about halfway to the peak, at the bottom of a deep gully, drinking from a pothole filled with rain water.
“My husband and I hiked up to Tanque Verde Peak a few days ago. I don’t think I’d ever get tired of this trail.” The cloud cover deepened and Cait felt chilled despite her down jacket. “The thought of a jaguar slinking around gives me the willies.”
“Don’t be afraid if ooshad shows itself to us. Be thankful if you’re chosen as a witness.” Estrella gestured at the wilderness around them.
Cait said nothing. As a reporter, she’d been trained to question and doubt. Living in global, mainstream society, she had absorbed a knee-jerk cynicism that viewed starry-eyed mysticism or anthropomorphism as naïve and uneducated. And here was Estrella claiming to commune with a jaguar in her dreams.
But the teachings of Cait’s Zuni childhood were also at odds with the conventional culture. The Zunis assigned a life force to animals, plants, and the land. It bothered her to be skeptical of a woman who also came from a tribe whose beliefs centered around the sacredness of the natural world. Did I gain an education to lose my soul?
Cait shouldered her backpack and they continued on, the cactus forest far below them. A few hardy specimens of mesquite and prickly pear survived in the higher elevations, but more common were shrub oak, thickets of manzanita with reddish purple bark, and large juniper trees filling the gaps between boulder piles.
Cottonwood trees, branches bare this time of year, grew where rainwater collected and nourished roots.
As the path zigged and zagged upwards, Cait’s thigh muscles cramped. She slowed to wait for Estrella, who had fallen behind.
In a ravine below them, branches snapped and brush rippled as hooves clattered over the rocks. A pair of mule deer stotted up a steep hillside, stopping their bouncing run to peer back at the women.
“Where there’s deer, there’s predators.” Cait watched the animals’ big ears flick this way and that.
The pine-oak forest thickened as they approached Juniper Basin, almost 3,000 feet higher than where they’d started. A jay screeched at them and flew into a dense growth of juniper. Patches of snow lay alongside the trail, thicker drifts piled up in the shade. The air was noticeably cooler. Cait dug in her pack for gloves and a knitted cap.
They passed by the empty campsite area and continued through toward Tanque Verde Peak. “There’s water down there. Attracts the animals.” Estrella pointed to the shadowed bottom of a gulch filled with refrigerator-sized boulders. “The spring should be running good because of the big storms we had weeks ago. Heavy rain in Tucson and snow up here. We sprung a leak in our flat roof and had to have it patched.”
“I’ve got a flat roof back in Albuquerque. I have to inspect it every year and paint on more sealant. The Southwest look is cool, but it’s a lot of work.” Cait stopped. “How are you holding up?”
“A break would be nice.” Estrella moved off the trail toward a rock outcropping that offered natural seating.
As they headed for the rest spot, Cait saw a small black box attached to a two-foot high stake anchored in the ground. The center of the box held a camera eye the size of a nickel. She knelt to examine the apparatus, positioned to capture trail activity. An identical cam twenty feet away was aimed toward the bottom of the ravine. “These must be wildlife cams. Have you seen them before?”
Estrella frowned. “No. Those are new.”
They relaxed on the sun-warmed granite and ate a lunch of crackers, cheese and fruit. A breeze rustled the branches of pinon pines and oak trees. Estrella curled up on the rock and laid her head on her daypack.
Cait leaned back and looked skyward at sooty clouds massing overhead. A gentle buzz interrupted her daydreams; Estrella had nodded off.
A glance at her watch showed it was long past noon. A steady breeze picked up and the temperature dropped. Rain was coming. They’d stayed too long.
Cait gently touched Estrella’s shoulder, eliciting a grunt. The older woman worked herself to a seated position and got to her feet.
“We should go.” Cait stood and rubbed her knees. As she looked toward a forested incline on the other side of a rock-strewn gully below, movement beneath the trees caught her attention. “Look.”
Estrella had already noticed. She stood as at attention. “S-o’obi mavid. Spotted cougar.”
“What?” Cait saw only brush dappled with shadow. Then as in a vision, a creature materialized from the gloom. Only thirty feet away, it was bigger and more powerfully built than the wiry mountain lion she had seen in New Mexico during a hike. This animal before them had golden eyes and an orangey coat patterned with dark rosettes.
In the micro-second Cait blinked, the cat was gone. She turned to Estrella, who held her hands out, palms up, and muttered softly in a language Cait guessed was Tohono O’odham.
“The jaguar.” Cait’s knees shook and she stuck her hands in her jacket pockets to control the trembling. “It’s real.”
“Of course it is. You didn’t believe me?” Estrella continued looking at the spot the cat had been.
Cait made a futile move to dig her cell phone from her pack. “I wish I’d taken a photo.”
“It’s better you don’t. A jaguar is like gold or diamonds. It brings out the greed in people. A hunter will want to track it down, feel the thrill of killing a beautiful wild creature. He’ll stuff it and display it in his big ugly house. A death trophy.” Estrella waved her hands, agitated. “Leave it be, let it live.”
“You’re right about keeping it a secret. What a gorgeous animal. I don’t want the public to hear about it. But my brother should know.”
“It showed itself to us for a reason. It’s our responsibility to watch out for its safety.” Estrella picked up her rucksack, still looking for the cat.
They started back down the rocky trail. Cait soon wiped out on a patch of gravel and fell on her butt, scraping her hands. She was thankful she hadn’t sprained or broken anything. “I hope it doesn’t get dark before we reach the lower trail. I’ve got a flashlight, but this is tricky stuff.”
“Take your time and you’ll be ok.” Estrella wasn’t fast but she was careful, steadying herself with a length of dried agave stalk.
A few windblown drops turned into steady rain that dogged them all the way down. Cait tried not to grumble as she lost her footing on slippery rocks and banged her knees. Estrella slipped once but soldiered on without complaint.
The sun was low on the horizon when Cait estimated they had only a mile to go. The rain let up, but they were cold and soaked. She distracted herself by thinking about the cat they’d seen. Spotted, for sure, but definitely not an ocelot. Was it the jaguar from the Santa Rita Mountains? If she and Estrella had seen it, others might too. It was only a matter of time before whoever set up those trail cams would discover the animal.
They started down a switchback when Estrella tugged at Cait’s jacket, pointing at where the trail crooked out of view beneath them.
“Cigarette smoke.”
Cait wrinkled her nose. “I thought hikers were healthy types.”
Estrella stared hard at someone starting up a curving section of path below. “He’s got a rifle,” she hissed.