Publication Date: Wednesday, October 13, 2004
In the lion's den?
In the lion's den?
(October 13, 2004) More mountain lions spotted near residential areas, official says
by Bill D'Agostino and Tony Burchyns
On a table at the Palo Alto nature center, City Naturalist Deborah Bartens displayed a map of the region, replete with tricolor-coded flags. The colors represent degrees of danger that mirror America's terrorist-alert system.
The surfeit of green flags pinpoint locations where a mountain lion has been recently sighted in its natural habitat. The few yellow flags represent where a cougar was outside of its habitat. There are no red flags, which is why Bartens spends much of her time tracking various sightings.
Red flags signal a mountain lion attack.
The number of mountain lion sightings in Palo Alto has increased exponentially in 2004. In the previous nine years, there were only 16 unconfirmed sightings in the city's open space preserves. During the first nine months of this year, there have been 30, according to data collected by Palo Alto Ranger Michelle Wagner.
Although it's not known how much of that jump is due to people's heightened awareness after the police's high-profile -- and controversial -- shooting of a cougar five months ago, Bartens believes the ill-fated feline that traveled into Palo Alto on May 17 was prescient.
"That lion came in with a message that was loud and clear: 'Pay attention, because things are changing," she said.
The rest of the region has seen a similar upswing. A Los Altos Hills resident heard the sound of a woman screaming for three late July nights -- only to realize it was the sound of a caterwauling animal. A series of sightings alarmed a neighborhood in Atherton over the summer. A woman walking her Labrador behind the Stanford West apartments one early evening in August was stalked by a mountain lion.
There are other signs the situation is growing more serious. For instance, pets living in homes near the San Francisquito Creek -- which officials believe is the route the lion used to get downtown in May -- are reported missing in increasing numbers, Bartens noted.
There are numerous theories to explain the phenomenon. It's possible greater real estate development in the foothills is shrinking the cats' habitat. Perhaps the population of cougars has expanded and alpha males are pushing younger, weaker felines out.
Some officials with the California Department of Fish and Game argue the trend is mostly imagined.
"Overall, nothing's really changed except for public awareness," argued Terry Palmisano, a senior wildlife biologist with the agency. She noted that ever since a mountain biker was killed in Orange County in January, there has been a rash of media attention concerning cougars.
The city naturalist believes pumas are following their favorite prey into local neighborhoods. There is evidence deer are frequently using the Matadero and San Francisquito creeks as wildlife corridors, according to Bartens.
One Barron Park resident said she was taken aback this spring when, for the first time, deer visited her front yard -- just two blocks from El Camino Real.
"I was watering my lawn, and I looked up -- and they were right in the middle of the court, looking over my neighbor's car," said Marianne Strickfaden, who's lived in Barron Park since 1979.
It's not clear how the upcoming rainy season will affect the lions, but Bartens worries it will increase their boldness as the animals are pushed out of the previously dry creek beds and into more residential neighborhoods in search of food.
The controversial shooting of a mountain lion that wandered into a residential neighborhood five months ago has fundamentally changed Barten's job.
She has become known as the "lion lady" and carries a new cell phone -- known as the "cat phone" -- to stay updated on potential sightings throughout the Bay Area.
The naturalist also pays incredible attention to often ignored details of modern life, looking for clues. For instance, she scours 'Missing Pet' posters to discover patterns and keeps a map handy of all recent sightings.
"I'm just trying to put all the pieces of the wildlife puzzle together," Bartens said. The blonde, 23-year city employee has become the point person for eight different agencies, including the California Department of Fish and Game and the various local police departments.
"She's had to react," said Greg Betts, the city's superintendent of open space and sciences.
With Bartens and others acting as leaders, Palo Alto and the neighboring communities have responded to the public's new awareness that mountain lions can unexpectedly enter residential neighborhoods.
The city is trying to artfully balance the desire to let unthreatening mountain lions live without interference, while also preventing a red flag from appearing on the map or another mountain lion from being shot.
Many of the moves have largely occurred under the radar screen: there have been new communications between the various agencies; a section of Foothills Park was closed off during the summer after a puma was seen in the area; and a city-sponsored "Fun and Sun" camp had its final campout moved indoors.
The city's police department has also rewritten its "General Orders," relative to how it responds to sightings. The rules given to officers now mirror California Fish and Game's practices by recognizing the right of mountain lions to be in and near its habitat if they don't pose a threat. Those new orders, however, would not have altered the police's actions in May.
"We've learned a lot and we've come full circle -- we'd do what we did," Capt. Brad Zook said.
Other changes include the placement of paper notices in areas after a mountain lion is spotted and the purchase of two small digital cameras placed in cougar hotspots.
"We're trying to advise folks of safe behaviors," Betts said.
On Aug. 20, the digital camera got its first shot of a mountain lion. Unfortunately, it only caught the rear of the feline as it strolled through brush near midnight in Foothills Park.
Palo Alto resident Gina Matthews, who visits Foothills Park frequently to sketch and write in her notebook, said recent sightings don't concern her too much. But she has taken the advice of her brother and sister, both environmental scientists, who told her to draw eyes on the back of her hat to prevent a sneak attack.
"I'm somewhat cautious," said Matthews, who also now stays off the trails when she's alone.
Despite such caution, Bartens and other wildlife experts argue more still needs to be done to educate the public.
"If we don't want to consistently respond through killing the animals, we need to figure out what other measures can we take here," said Melissa Hippard, the director of Loma Prieta Chapter of the Sierra Club. "People need to make informed choices."
Standing over a sharp-toothed puma skull, Bartens recalls watching a family with two young children walking in the untamed San Francisquito Creek. She warned the parents not to let the children walk alone. A few minutes later, she watched the toddlers scamper far away from the adults.
"Can I take your kids and raise them for you?" she thought.
Local residents need greater awareness of their responsibilities to remain safe, such as staying off trails in the dusk and dawn hours, Bartens said.
Perhaps most fundamentally, the experts argue there should be a shift in the relationship between residents who live near or frequently enjoy the wildlife and the untamed creatures themselves.
"We need to, first of all, get people to behave responsibly so they're not luring the prey species into their yards," said David Baron, the author of "The Beast in the Garden," which examined the missed cues in a deadly 1987 puma attack of a teen in Boulder, Colo.
Residents should bring in pets and pet food at night; backyards with dogs should be protected; and people should immediately stop feeding deer, Baron argued, preaching the lessons he learned researching for two-and-a-half years.
Palo Altans should also try to scare deer or cougars away when they're spotted in backyards, Baron suggested.
"We need to be sending signals to the lions that are getting too comfortable around us, that they're not welcome," Baron said, adding that people's lush lawns and friendly smiles are cues to the lions.
"As a culture we've really gotten mixed up about our relationship with animals ... being nice to a lion doesn't mean they're going to nice back," he said, noting that cougars lead violent, aggressive lives. "We need to tell the lions that we are dominant over them. I hope we can do it without shooting them."
While it's true that a mountain lion only poses a miniscule risk to humans -- only six people have died in California from lion attacks since 1890, according to California Fish and Game -- those statistics would be small comfort to anyone attacked in Palo Alto or a nearby community.
Marianne Arnstein of Melanie Lane in Atherton spotted a cougar through one of her full-length living room windows around 3 p.m. on Aug. 6.
Arnstein said it behaved just like a curious house cat, standing right up next to her window. When it walked to the edge of the yard, she opened the patio door to see what it would do. After 15 minutes, it vanished and Arnstein called police.
"It was exploring," Arnstein said. She still feels safe in her neighborhood, but no longer goes to sit beneath the oak trees in a secluded corner of her yard.
"Am I terrified? No. Am I afraid? No. Would I let my grandkids take the 'Jungle Walk' alone? No," said Arnstein, referring to the way her grandchildren used to play in her woodsy backyard.
Last week, Bartens took a reporter and a photographer on a tour of San Francisquito Creek, leaving her faithful dog Daisy in a lime green Volkswagen van. As she strolled, Bartens spoke wistfully about one day seeing the majestic, but lethal, creature that has become her obsession.
"Just knowing they come down here excites me to no end," she said. "We're walking where they were -- where they were supposed to be ."
Just then, a small brown dog scampered down from the creek's entrance. After a beat, a man in a maroon sweatshirt appeared in tow, tethered to the dog by a long, windy rope.
"Is it OK for him to be down here?" the man asked, noticing Barten's suspicious gaze.
"Yeah -- on a leash," she emphasized.
As she walked, Bartens stooped to examine each piece of scat on the ground, looking for any evidence that a puma or other wild animal might have been in the area. Birds were circling overhead, frequently landing in nearby trees and occasionally distracting Bartens from the interview.
Passing by a tiny cave where a homeless person probably slept the night before -- a blue sleeping bag was stuffed in the crevice; empty water bottles, wrappers and shiny red shorts were strewn about; and the pungent odor of a bad cologne wafted around -- she remarked about the danger posed at night.
"This is like an expressway for wildlife -- it's like a huge buffet," Bartens said.
The naturalist never hikes alone anymore, even with Daisy. She wishes it didn't have to be that way, but Bartens said the risks to both creatures -- human and lion -- are too great.
"We can co-exist -- if people are smart about what they do," Bartens said.
Staff Writer Bill D'Agostino can be e-mailed at bdagostino@paweekly.com
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