What it’s like living in California’s mountain lion country
In the early hours of 25 November 2016, the day after Thanksgiving, Victoria Vaughn-Perling was awakened by the sound of screams. Her small alpaca ranch was under attack.
Too frightened to trudge into the chilly darkness and face the aggressor, Vaughn-Perling waited until the Sun rose, sleeping in her car. When morning came, she found massive paw-prints throughout her property. Ten of her alpacas were dead.
There was no doubt about the culprit. It was a mountain lionor “cougar”, a species of big cat that lives in the California countryside Vaughn-Perling has made her home.
The wanton attack led to an extreme response: a permit to kill the mountain lion in question. But that set off a storm of controversy. Vaughn-Perling had to decide whether to go ahead with the kill, or spare the mountain lion – and, perhaps, risk that it might kill again. Her dilemma is a vivid illustration of the difficulties of living with big predators.
At the time Victoria Vaughn-Perling was 54 years old, a former teacher struggling to deal with a divorce, money troubles and caring for her ageing mother. She lives in a rural pocket of the Santa Monica Mountains, one of Southern California’s least-populated spaces. Just up the road is Malibu, where people on six-figure incomes dwell on sprawling estates surrounded by high barriers. But Vaughn-Perling’s neighbourhood is less well-heeled. It is a haven for bucolic Americana and the West, filled with ranches and cowboy culture. Despite its proximity to Los Angeles, there is also a lot of wildlife: deer, coyotes, bobcats, even the occasional bear or mountain lion.
Mountain lions normally avoid humans and our settlements. But not always.
November and December 2016 saw a string of local attacks. Both the California Department of Fish and Wildlife (FWS) and National Park Service (NPS) attributed the attacks to mountain lions. Over 50 animals were slain in the area in 2016. Those numbers may seem dire, yet wildlife managers say they are not unusual. Nor are they the work of some monstrous and special beast. At least four mountain lions – out of about a dozen in the Santa Monica Mountains – have attacked livestock. It is normal behaviour.
After the strike on Vaughn-Perling’s farm, the culprit was swiftly found: a male mountain lion dubbed P45. Signals from his radio collar placed the 150-pound cat at the scene. Days after the slaughter, FWS issued a permit to kill P45.
When Vaughn-Perling’s boyfriend Reid Breitman, a lawyer, shared these details at a hastily-thought-out press conference, a flood of international press attention drenched residents. There were heated community meetings and wild allegations were spewed.
Some supported the killing, arguing that P45 might switch to attacking humans. Others were vehemently opposed. Vaughn-Perling and her neighbour Wendell Phillips, who she had entrusted with killing P45, even had death threats.
The problem is that California’s mountain lions are threatened. They have been squeezed onto an island of habitat and isolated by freeways. Their food choices are limited – apart from the ample supply of livestock, which makes for easy prey. In 2015, P45 killed several llamas at a Malibu winery. In October 2016, he’s suspected of killing a miniature horse at a nearby petting zoo.
The problem can be tackled, but not cheaply. Most notably, there are plans to build a $56m wildlife bridge across the 10-lane US 101 freeway. In December 2016, the California Wildlife Commission approved a $7.1m land buy along that freeway, but that is one step in a long process.
Meanwhile the mountain lions are being picked off one by one. P45 may have been spared, but Fish and Wildlife issued 221 depredation permits across California in 2016, resulting in 98 lions being killed – although none have been taken in the Santa Monica, Verdugo or Santa Susana Mountains in over 14 years.
How do you coexist with an apex predator if it preys on your livestock? What happens to these cats should these incidents continue—and how at-risk, if at all, are we?
I met Vaughn-Perling at her home a few weeks after the attack. She was still unsure what to do about P45.
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