Endangered by Strangers
Kat McNerney | December 2019
I awaken from my not-so-deep slumber by the sound of four gunshots. I quickly take count of my three cubs, ensuring they’re here with me in the den - they are. Relief. I move slowly, but efficiently, following the echo of the released fire. I trek across the rugged mountain terrain that I call home; my tail, which moments ago was providing my cubs and I with warmth, now acts as my backbone of balance on these steep mountain slopes. My limbs are short, allowing a fast pace while keeping me close to the ground so that my fur blends in with the snow. “Camouflage,” I think to myself, “one of my greatest assets.” In the distance I see a figure, a familiar figure, a human. Usually refined to a platform up in the trees, he has ventured farther than normal. I wonder what prompted this “delightful” visit.
I continue to approach the premises he has encroached, when I see a fallen neighbor. A fate my kind knows all too well, where is our savior?
Once again, the beautiful white snow corrupted by the color of death. I am tempted to pick up my pace and charge at this human, but the understanding that my fate is the same as my neighbor who has fallen stops me. I sit back and observe. Our relationship with humans is finicky. The figure manhandles the body of the fallen, drags him onto some contraption with wheels, and pulls him off into the distance. I know what he is doing, where he is going, I’ve been to his side of the mountain before.
I’ve seen the bones of the fallen mounted on his wall, I’ve seen the fur of the fallen on his back, this time, it was an attack.
I head back to the den. My cubs are awake and at three months old it is time to prepare them for the unpredictable life ahead. You see, our habitat and our kind has been collapsing. I see these human figures more than I ever did before, as if their species is thriving while ours is declining. They have begun claiming and closing off more of our land, eroding our home and limiting the space we have to hunt. Fragmentation. Now, there are less species to fall prey to my kind and let me tell you, we are suckers for the taste of mountain goats and sheep.
But never mind the taste, our methods of hunting determine the entire ecosystem’s fate.
We are a keystone species which means without us, the entire habitat will suffer. The mountains across Asia will experience a drastic decrease in biodiversity, one of the biggest ongoing crises around the globe. Without sufficient levels of biodiversity, our community will not be as resilient. We won’t be able to adapt so that we continue to survive. The food chain will be altered, severely effecting species’ populations and enhancing the vulnerability of smaller species.
To humans, we are a nuisance for eating their mountain goats and sheep, but they are forgetting that controlling these populations, is keeping the planet alive. We eat what we eat because it helps the ecosystem thrive.
Our consumption of mountain goats and sheep protects your crops and leaves plenty of plants to sequester carbon from our atmosphere and store it, improving the quality of our air. Each one of us has a job out here and without each and every one of us our ecosystem would fail. I am just doing my job. The cubs follow me out of our den and into the open, it’s time to work. We move slowly and stealthily, careful not to give ourselves away. I see two mountain goats in the distance, close to his side of the mountain. “They must be his," I thought to myself, “I could get killed for this.”
But at this point in time, my cubs and I need to eat. I can’t let the image of my fallen neighbor scar me forever, I must not retreat.
I stalk as I walk and I watch their every move. I pay attention to their pattern and if there’s room for them to scatter.
It’s now or never, I pick up my speed and I’m off. Scaling down this mountain, the terrain works to my advantage. My undeveloped vocal cords, an asset; I am quick, but quiet. I creep up close, no chance for the goats, I am victorious. But I must get back to my den before he realizes that his goats are gone and his profit no longer, before he grabs his gun and I become the fallen neighbor. I mentioned our relationship with humans was finicky. One day he wants to shoot me for being me, one day he wants to shoot me for eating his goats. The reasoning behind the two is the same, however. If I mess with his goats, he loses money, if he kills me, he earns it.
My heart aches because I know there’s a way to do this, without hurting my kind If humans could only see the immense value we provide when we are alive,
instead of focusing on profit. I am an asset, a species deserving of life but constantly threatened by strife because your human figure is the one I see coming back time and time again. You take my land and sever it, claiming my resources, my prey, putting an expiration date on my survival. You destroy my habitat without realizing there are no chances for revival. You are destroying me, a keystone species who without, your kind would falter.
Like many other species, I am essential to the success of yours. In my ecosystem, I am the glue, holding everything together, ensuring it all runs smooth.
I am beautiful, I am radiant, I am a species just like you
I am a snow leopard
Integral for the success of my ecosystem on this planet
I am a snow leopard
And my existence is taken for granted.
Kat McNerney | December 2019
I awaken from my not-so-deep slumber by the sound of four gunshots. I quickly take count of my three cubs, ensuring they’re here with me in the den - they are. Relief. I move slowly, but efficiently, following the echo of the released fire. I trek across the rugged mountain terrain that I call home; my tail, which moments ago was providing my cubs and I with warmth, now acts as my backbone of balance on these steep mountain slopes. My limbs are short, allowing a fast pace while keeping me close to the ground so that my fur blends in with the snow. “Camouflage,” I think to myself, “one of my greatest assets.” In the distance I see a figure, a familiar figure, a human. Usually refined to a platform up in the trees, he has ventured farther than normal. I wonder what prompted this “delightful” visit.
I continue to approach the premises he has encroached, when I see a fallen neighbor. A fate my kind knows all too well, where is our savior?
Once again, the beautiful white snow corrupted by the color of death. I am tempted to pick up my pace and charge at this human, but the understanding that my fate is the same as my neighbor who has fallen stops me. I sit back and observe. Our relationship with humans is finicky. The figure manhandles the body of the fallen, drags him onto some contraption with wheels, and pulls him off into the distance. I know what he is doing, where he is going, I’ve been to his side of the mountain before.
I’ve seen the bones of the fallen mounted on his wall, I’ve seen the fur of the fallen on his back, this time, it was an attack.
I head back to the den. My cubs are awake and at three months old it is time to prepare them for the unpredictable life ahead. You see, our habitat and our kind has been collapsing. I see these human figures more than I ever did before, as if their species is thriving while ours is declining. They have begun claiming and closing off more of our land, eroding our home and limiting the space we have to hunt. Fragmentation. Now, there are less species to fall prey to my kind and let me tell you, we are suckers for the taste of mountain goats and sheep.
But never mind the taste, our methods of hunting determine the entire ecosystem’s fate.
We are a keystone species which means without us, the entire habitat will suffer. The mountains across Asia will experience a drastic decrease in biodiversity, one of the biggest ongoing crises around the globe. Without sufficient levels of biodiversity, our community will not be as resilient. We won’t be able to adapt so that we continue to survive. The food chain will be altered, severely effecting species’ populations and enhancing the vulnerability of smaller species.
To humans, we are a nuisance for eating their mountain goats and sheep, but they are forgetting that controlling these populations, is keeping the planet alive. We eat what we eat because it helps the ecosystem thrive.
Our consumption of mountain goats and sheep protects your crops and leaves plenty of plants to sequester carbon from our atmosphere and store it, improving the quality of our air. Each one of us has a job out here and without each and every one of us our ecosystem would fail. I am just doing my job. The cubs follow me out of our den and into the open, it’s time to work. We move slowly and stealthily, careful not to give ourselves away. I see two mountain goats in the distance, close to his side of the mountain. “They must be his," I thought to myself, “I could get killed for this.”
But at this point in time, my cubs and I need to eat. I can’t let the image of my fallen neighbor scar me forever, I must not retreat.
I stalk as I walk and I watch their every move. I pay attention to their pattern and if there’s room for them to scatter.
It’s now or never, I pick up my speed and I’m off. Scaling down this mountain, the terrain works to my advantage. My undeveloped vocal cords, an asset; I am quick, but quiet. I creep up close, no chance for the goats, I am victorious. But I must get back to my den before he realizes that his goats are gone and his profit no longer, before he grabs his gun and I become the fallen neighbor. I mentioned our relationship with humans was finicky. One day he wants to shoot me for being me, one day he wants to shoot me for eating his goats. The reasoning behind the two is the same, however. If I mess with his goats, he loses money, if he kills me, he earns it.
My heart aches because I know there’s a way to do this, without hurting my kind If humans could only see the immense value we provide when we are alive,
instead of focusing on profit. I am an asset, a species deserving of life but constantly threatened by strife because your human figure is the one I see coming back time and time again. You take my land and sever it, claiming my resources, my prey, putting an expiration date on my survival. You destroy my habitat without realizing there are no chances for revival. You are destroying me, a keystone species who without, your kind would falter.
Like many other species, I am essential to the success of yours. In my ecosystem, I am the glue, holding everything together, ensuring it all runs smooth.
I am beautiful, I am radiant, I am a species just like you
I am a snow leopard
Integral for the success of my ecosystem on this planet
I am a snow leopard
And my existence is taken for granted.