Evan

You'll see them pushed into corners.

You'll see torn up ground where they've run.

This looked calm.

It looked like nothing was wrong, and that was the first uncomfortable thing.

Predators usually leave a signature in behavior before they leave it in blood.

The first carcass was in a shallow draw, partially sheltered by sage and a juniper that had grown sideways like it was trying to lean away from the wind.

Dale stopped the truck a good distance out and walked in first, slow, scanning the ground like he expected wires.

Wes stayed back with me.

We approached together, and I did what I always do.

I made myself take a breath and look at the scene like it was math, not meat.

It was a yearling heifer, maybe 350 pounds.

Dead long enough for the eyes to dull, but not long enough for the smell to really bloom.

There was scavenging on the hindquarters.

Typical.

But the initial damage wasn't typical.

The throat area had trauma that looked like a large canine bite, but the spacing was off.

Too wide for a coyote.

Too narrow for a mountain lion's pattern if you're used to seeing it.

There was bruising, heavy.

The hide was torn in a way that suggested an animal had held on and shaken.