by Rick Marsi
Things that scream in the night have a way of attracting attention. I speak of wild creatures, outdoors in the dark, crying out when attacked, crying out when attacking, crying out to discourage arrival or encourage a mate. Even when heard through a double-paned window, such cries can stand neck hairs on end. Heard at close range, from a tent in the forest, they strike fear in the hardest of hearts.
“It sounded like a woman screaming.”
“It sounded like someone being strangled.”
Through the years, I have heard these descriptions and others from people intent on determining the source of this yowling. Unfortunately, the bookstore does not sell “A Field Guide to Bloodcurdling Nocturnal Screams.” Until it does, nailing down what animal screeched is a challenge if the creature itself is not sighted.
On rare occasions, a flashlight beam can detect the eye shine of an owl. For months after fledging, young great horned owls tag after their parents, begging food when their own inept attempts at capturing prey leave them hungry. The screams can last for hours, produced by a forlorn owl perched in a tree, unaware of its parent’s location.
Foxes can give you a good case of goose bumps if their nocturnal vocals wake you up on a warm summer night. Books call it barking, this sharp yapping sound, but the noise is unearthly, not dog-like at all to my ear.
And then there are cats, large wildcats, secret cats. Could that scream have been made by a bobcat or even a cougar? Before you say “never,” don’t say it; you just might be wrong. Even though cougars are officially extinct in the East (with the exception of a remnant Everglades population), stranger things have happened than finding one loose in the wild. Think of those “game farms” you’ve passed driving out in the country. An unscrupulous owner might decide his big cat is a burden and simply release it.
Think of the people you’ve heard and read about, who bought baby creatures — or took them from the wild — and then watched while these bundles of joy became fearsome adults. Couldn’t a cougar end up in the wild — tossed out, sink or swim, from a vehicle under cover of darkness? In my book, it could, so I don’t rule out cougars when a caller describes nighttime screams.
However, to date, no one has shown me photos of a cougar or its tracks to verify a big cat’s existence.
What about bobcats? Odds increase when they enter the picture. As New York and other northeastern states continue to become more forested, habitat for bobcats increases. Never common, these nocturnal hunters are so secretive, people can live near them for decades without seeing them. Bobcats are masters of concealment. Males in the Northeast weigh about 25 pounds; females grow smaller. Their mottled coats blend seamlessly with natural surroundings. Cottontail rabbits constitute preferred prey. Bobcats in suburbia? Don’t be too doubtful, especially as suburbs continue penetrating more deeply into forested areas.
Bottom line: Keep your camera ready. Lock your eyes on the snow for fresh tracks. If it howls in the night, record the sound if you can. Then, when skeptics say, “no way,” you can counter with documentation.
Naturalist Rick Marsi, a member of the Susquehanna Group, is a journalist, public speaker and leader of eco-tours. His book of favorite nature columns is Wheel of Seasons, available at www.rickmarsi.com. ©2010 Rick Marsi