Click, Flash
Click. Flash.
Click. Flash. “Mommy, do you see the kitty?”
Seriously, kid? Kitty? I am a black panther.
I was born in a place where I could run between trees at full speed, the wind
rushing through my whiskers. My moist nose could pick up the scent of a
deer that crossed the path hours before.1 I
could climb the trees to gaze upon the rain forest as if it were my own, and it
was. I felt the thrill of the chase, creeping up on my prey during that
period when the sun begins to set.2 By retracting my claws, I
was able to slowly sneak right up to an animal—any animal, really, for I am not
picky—without making a sound.3 They never saw me coming.
There was barely ever a fight. Then, I would drag them up to the trees,
to protect my prey for the next several days from the lazy beasts who would
wish to steal my kill. Stupid hyenas. I am
a predator. I am “more intelligent than the tiger and more ferocious than
the lion,” or at least I used to be.4
I was caught during a hunt, when the air was so hot and thick, you could nearly
lay on it. I was walking along the jungle floor, my head cocked, trying
to distinguish the direction of a faint rustle in the wind. My whiskers
felt a soft vibration to the south, and as I turn and walked in that direction,
claws retracted just in case the animal was close, the
ground gave way. I fell into a deep pit
covered with branches and leaves. Many of the branches fell on top
of me. I let out a roar of desperation, but it was no use. I was
trapped in a hole ten times my height.
I
was sold to a woman who lived across the ocean from my home. She kept me
in a cage with big, iron bars, feeding me dead, cold meat. A majestic
animal, like me, deserves more than cold meat. I deserve more than those
bars that keep me from running or climbing. My cage was hardly large
enough to circle. She kept me in a room with a large metal beast that
swallowed her, ran off, then regurgitated her hours
later. There were no trees, no wind, no
hope.
Luckily,
this life did not last long. One day, the woman was put into a metal
beast with blinking lights that emitted a strange whining. The men that
put her in the beast talked about something called “fraud.” I’m not sure what
this means, but it meant I was able to leave that tiny box of a cage.
Now
I live in something called a ‘zoo’, where tiny humans stare at me. While
this isn’t as bad as the place the woman kept me, it is still a cage. I
can run, but not far; I can climb, but not high. I still eat cold
meat. The only good part about my new home is that I am no longer
alone. There are two others like me: Jane and Charles. They are
mates. I do not have a mate, but the man who gives me meat says they are
looking. I do not really care. I prefer to be alone, laying
in a tree, watching.
In
any case, I am not a kitty.
My spirit
animal is not a kitty; it is the black panther. When
I was little, I used to dream about large cats.
I remember in one of them, my mother and I were being chased by a male
lion. I kept thinking how odd it was
that a lion was in our front yard. Then
I looked to my right and there were two black panthers grooming themselves like
housecats. They were not threatening; in
fact, they barely noticed our presence.
They, unlike the lion, seemed to belong.
When I saw them, I felt safe, despite the angry lion in my yard.
The black panther can be several different large, black cats,
but the strictest view defines the species, the animal I saw in my dream, as a melanistic leopard.5
These beautiful animals are intelligent, solitary animals with a
terrifying presence. The black panther is
smart, graceful, quiet, and a bit of a feminist. She knows when to strike and when to
wait. I can relate to her, but I have so
much more to learn from her.
In The Jungle
Book, the black panther, Bagheera,
is the responsible, smart character that looks after Mowgli along with Baloo. In reality, male black panthers do not look
after their young. The female looks after the two or three cubs alone.6 This applies to all big cats, excluding the
lion. Nonetheless, the black panther is a
species of female strength. The females do not need men. They hunt
for themselves and their children while still maintaining their fierce reputation.
I think any woman can be inspired by this.
One of the most feared species in the wild, they nearly
disappear in the dark, can watch their prey from tree branches high above the
ground and sneak up on their prey by retracting their claws and tiptoeing on
the pads of their paws.3 Because of
this, the black panther is known as the “ghost of the forest.”7 In
a sense, they tread lightly, carrying a huge stick. Unlike the silent black panther, I tend to say things before thinking. I
do this to be funny, but I’ve always wanted to be one of those people who sit
quietly, absorbing the words of others. When these people talk, everyone
listens, because whatever makes them speak must be important. This
reminds me of the black panther. When she makes
a noise, it is because she means to make a sound.
The black panther is a creature of
isolation.7 Black panthers only leave solitude during
breeding season or when a mother has cubs. I can understand this need to
be alone. While I enjoy being around other people at times, I prefer to
be alone or with one or two close friends. I like to be alone with my
thoughts. Sometimes, when I am in a crowded room, I think about the next
time I’ll be able to hear myself think. This is mildly paradoxical, but
what I mean is that I like being with me. I like the sound of
silence. In fact, I cannot study when there are any noises. I focus
on the most minute of sounds, rather than the book I
am supposed to be reading. I understand the black
panther’s choice to be alone, because I crave it so often.
I think what I find most interesting about the black panther
and what I think I can most learn from her is that she will only attack a human
when she is dying of starvation or when attacked.8 I watched a
show once on Animal Planet, in which a woman kept a black panther caged
as a pet. This is probably the most torturous thing for this kind of
animal. She would come into the cage and pet him, as if he were just a
domesticated cat. He would allow her to pet him, but he was not
free. There were no trees to climb, and he could barely pace across the
cage. After a while, the black panther attacked
her, like a victim of kidnap breaking free. She walked into the cage just
as she had done every day, but finally, the wild animal reacted
to the situation. He finally accepted that the cage was an attack against
his very nature. The police killed him, because he acted like a wild
animal. However, before that final break, the animal knew that he would
not be able to win against a human. The human is not the black panther’s natural enemy. Black panthers know
when they have bitten off more than they can chew. I tend to take on
projects too large, thinking that I can handle the stress. I need to
learn to know where my limits are. All my life, I have sought
competition. In high school, I was salutatorian, taking on as many
difficult classes as my school offered. In college, I am in Plan II, in
the midst of writing my 60-page thesis. Soon, I will start graduate
school. I am tired of competing with others. I want to be the type
of person who can look at something and ask, “Is it worth it?” or “Is this the
fight I really want?” The black panther is that
type of animal. Yes, she can accomplish great feats, dragging large
animals into trees in order to keep them away from other animals, but she knows
when to let one go.
Unfortunately, these teachers are in danger. Despite
the fact they adapt to live in a wide variety of habitats, the change in
climate and the invasion of the human species has put them on the Endangered
Species list in many areas of the world. People kill black panthers for
their pelts as well as the thrill of the hunt.9
Because of the selfishness of human beings, this amazing animal may not
live much longer. I hate to think that by the time I have children, my
spirit animal may be gone. Can your spirit animal be extinct? This
makes me wonder. If the world were a different place, would my spirit
animal be a wooly mammoth or a dodo bird or some extinct exotic fish? In
any case, at this moment, my spirit animal is a survivor. The black panther can live nearly anywhere and adapt to its
surroundings. There is so much to learn from this fierce,
intelligent, and independent animal. I hope it survives long enough to
teach us.
Word Count: 1641
Word Count minus
quotations: 1626
Blog URL: https://courses.utexas.edu/webapps/portal/frameset.jsp?tab_tab_group_id=_1_1
Illustrations:
[i] The Black Panther in all his glory
[ii] Black Panther contemplating
Life
[iii] The Black Panther in his
beloved tree
[iv] The
Future of Black Panthers