This declaration is largely figurative, but sometimes too close for total comfort.
I live in a lion’s den.
Where the beast actually lays its head, I know not. But, considering the yowls and the tracks, it can’t be far away.
This much is certain: My neighborhood in the foothills of Jefferson County just west of Denver is home to one, perhaps two mountain lions. They prowl among yards and other places where young children play – mercifully in different shifts, night and day. At least so far.
Following a fresh snowfall, I found the beast’s footprints beside my front doorstep, inches away from a welcome mat whose message, in this instance, might not have been totally sincere.
A neighbor, upon opening the slider to an elevated sun deck adorned by an overhanging Ponderosa pine limb, noticed something out of place. A heart-thumping doubletake found focus on a long, dangling buff tail. Frightened blue eyes gazed into beady yellow eyes, but only for a brief moment. The slam of the door was followed quickly by a snap of the lock. Like crossing the street in traffic, this woman never again would open her door without looking both ways.
Among the more interesting aspects of these and other close encounters of the third kind, almost too numerous to mention, is that I can see my downtown office from here.
Welcome to the rapidly expanding world of human conflicts with dangerous wildlife. Unlike frontier times, when mountain men routinely went knife-to-fang with the wild creatures that ruled the land, these confrontations have taken on a characteristic colored by political correctness and a certain Bambi-esque view of the natural world.
The change, of course, is driven by a continuing demographic shift that prompts generally affluent householders to flee city congestion for the solitude of the pines. As residences multiply in what once was the exclusive domain of wildlife, these areas, for reasons of safety and aesthetics, become off-limits to the discharge of firearms and hunting.
Deer and elk proliferate, attracted to sanctuary and the succulent plants humans provide. In some situations, notably foothills-hugging cities such as Boulder, deer invade urban neighborhoods. Many people don’t mind sacrificing a few petunias to cohabitation; others deeply resent animals taking a large bite out of their expensive landscaping.
While mountain lions don’t like living around people very much, they love deer, the staff of life. Where you find lots of deer, chances are good a big cat or two will show up at the banquet.
Thus we have an inevitable clash that more recently has made the leap into the dicey realm of public debate. The Colorado Wildlife Commission has a continuing dialogue regarding courses of action for lions in the near foothills.
More recently, wildlife commissioner Rick Enstrom accelerated discussion regarding what he believes is a lack of cooperation from Boulder County officials regarding lion management.
“We get cooperation from Larimer and Jefferson counties when there’s lion problems, but not from Boulder,” Enstrom said of a perceived difficulty with wildlife management in that county’s expansive open space.
Enstrom and others in the wildlife community fear another outbreak in what has been a series of lion attacks that resulted in two confirmed deaths and another suspected lion fatality in the past 15 years.
The number of lion encounters with people, pets and livestock has accelerated along the Front Range in recent years, prompting the official concern.
“We have lions going into people’s homes, eating pets and threatening lives. When people can’t take their kids hiking in open space, it’s time to take action,” Enstrom said.
The first step will be a Division of Wildlife study to determine where and how many mountain lions reside in populated areas along the Front Range.
“Before we do anything, we need a solid base of information,” the commissioner said.
Meanwhile, he expects the wildlife agency to “talk turkey” with Boulder County’s Board of Commissioners regarding potential courses of action.
“Lions have become habituated to humans and dogs. They’re dumb and hungry. I want to take action before lions take another human,” Enstrom said.
Wildlife officials believe a two-pronged initiative is necessary to remove some of the excess mule deer, perhaps by closely supervised hunting, along with more direct action toward problem lions.
Enstrom realizes any measure that involves the lethal removal of wildlife won’t sit well with protectionists. But he expressed determination to pursue the study and a dialogue with appropriate county officials.
“My first responsibility as a wildlife commissioner is for public safety,” he said.
Meanwhile, I seldom go out at night in my own neighborhood. When I do, I always look both ways.
Staff writer Charlie Meyers can be reached at 303-954-1609 or cmeyers@denverpost.com.
