I was around 16, sitting on the front porch talking to my friend on the phone, as many millennial teens did, when I heard a loud screech erupt from the pasture behind my childhood home in Oklahoma.
I had a split-second flashback to years earlier, during a camping trip, when my Girl Scout leader described the sound a mountain lion makes. “It sounds exactly like a woman screaming,” she said. We didn’t believe her. How could that be so? We’d seen “The Lion King.” We knew lions roared.
I immediately hung up the phone and dashed inside to tell my dad there was a mountain lion nearby. We needed to check on the cattle.
Through my teen years, my family’s land remained in that lion’s territory. My cousin saw it from a tree stand while deer hunting on our land. Workers from a natural gas company saw it while checking well sites. I heard it twice.