With school back in session and Officer Barnes and I resuming the DARE work, things seemed to largely quiet down work wise. The worst that was likely to happen was a fight between students over something, but so far nothing of that nature happened. The most regular work we had would be to coordinate with the PE/Health teachers at the High School and Middle School when they wanted to have us come and talk about drug prevention. And we set to working on that fairly quickly.
"We don't normally start with the effects of drugs," the High School PE/Health Teacher, a man named Robin Pollski, commented.
"I'm sure," Officer Barnes nodded as we talked with him in the classroom he had for Health Classes, "We're just moving to get things straight. Make sure we're here on the right day and that we're prepared to fit whatever you need from us into your schedule."
"R2 knew that," Robin Pollski answered, sounding somewhat grumbling.
"R2?" I asked.
"The previous DARE Officer before you two," Robin Pollski answered, "Robin Pyre. Kids called him R2 because he and I have the same first name."
"How did he take the Star Wars reference?" I wondered, too curious to pass up the question.
"Occasionally he'd beep or something to give the kids a laugh," Robin Pollski admitted and sighed.
"You will remember, sir, that Officer Pyre was killed when Williams bombed our station," Officer Barnes reminded the teacher.
Robin Pollski looked down and sighed, "Yeah, I know... and I'll never understand what got under Williams' bonnet to make him do that. To be honest, Officer Wayne, I'm not an Animal-Person fan, and I'd think we'd be safer if that serum were never discovered..."
"You have no argument from me there," I told him, "My wife and I didn't volunteer to have ourselves changed."
Robin Pollski blinked in surprise, and then continued, "...anyway, I may not be a fan... but blowing up the police station and threatening students? The man was nuts as far as I'm concerned."
Officer Barnes and I nodded.
"We're getting away from why we're here, sir," Officer Barnes spoke carefully.
Robin Pollski nodded, "R2 had notes for a lot of this stuff... I'm sure he did."
"We haven't found anything like that in the offices here or the Middle School that have been assigned to us," I told him, "if he did have written notes, he carried them with him and were likely destroyed when Williams' car bomb went off."
Robin Pollski sighed again, "I see... I can give you a copy of my class schedule that I hand out at the beginning of every year... but that isn't set in stone. Some years we run ahead of schedule, some years we run behind. I can rely a message to your office when that day comes... and as for what to say... R2 usually left it to a brief mention of the legal rankings for what sorts of drugs are legal and illegal and the punishments for those in possession of illegal drugs or illegally obtaining legal drugs such as Morphine or at present the Animatrix Serum which require a series of steps that must be followed."
"Morphine can only be administered by a doctor," I told him, "No private citizen is going to get his hands on Morphine."
"Heroin is essentially superheated Morphine," Robin Pollski countered, "some crooks do get their hands on it. Either through corruption or through manufacturing of the drug."
"That's all Officer Pyre mentioned?" Officer Barnes questioned, "don't do drugs or you'll go to jail? Pardon me, sir, but wouldn't that just egg on a kid determined to rebel?"
"I've normally handled the affects drugs have on one's health," Robin Pollski answered, "that part is all I really needed from R2."
"I see..." Officer Barnes answered and took the paper schedule that Robin Pollski had offered.
We then made our way out and headed back to our office.
"We're going to do better then telling them if they take drugs they'll go to jail," Officer Barnes answered, "Kids... especially if they have feelings of rebelliousness will do anything... especially if they're told "no" by an authority figure."
"Have you and Officer Jenkins had an adventure with Megan I haven't heard about?" I wondered.
"She's gotten a bit of an idea on territorial marking," Officer Barnes said in a low voice, "some of it is okay. Rubbing her head against me, Officer Jenkins, or her grandmother is okay... as she tends to do that when she's giving hugs. You know... the sort of nuzzling behavior you and Molly do with each other from time to time."
I nodded. Our nuzzling was our way of kissing, since the lips on our muzzles couldn't pucker the way human lips could, but I had head that cat species, large and small, tended to have scent glands near the ears and the edges of the mouth. Rubbing those places was a way of leaving a scent that identified territorial ownership. It could probably washed out, but some things would be easier to clean then others. For people who had weak noses, it may not be too bad for awhile... but even there, if a lot of the scent is left there, even people would eventually be able to smell it. And I doubted people would find a tiger's scent to be attractive... and any animal or Animal-Person would likely smell those scent markers a lot easier.
"The problem issue has been the claws," Officer Barnes sighed, "she hasn't truly left big claw marks in things in the sense of where you see a tiger or lion with a tree in the wild or a house cat with a scratching post... but she's taken to extending her claws on occasion when she thinks no one is looking."
"Some of that is also designed to keep the claws sharp," I told him.
"Yeah, but when she finds humor in it..." Officer Barnes answered, "it can be potentially destructive, and I don't want to spend a lot of money on replacing furniture."
"I may be better to construct a scratching post for her," I commented, "something she can claw and does the job. Some kind of wooden post... even with hardwood. She'll have the muscle power to claw the wood effectively..."
Officer Barnes sighed.
"The only other thing you could do would be to have her de-clawed by a vet," I answered, "though from what I've read on what has happened with people who privately own lions and tigers and other big cats... they've found that removing their pets' principle weapons makes them more aggressive because they feel that they've lost what would make a natural enemy back down."
I didn't mention that it would probably kill her chances as a hunter in the future as well, should Megan decide she wanted to hunt deer during the hunting season. Of course she could use some weapon, as Animal-People retained some amount of dexterity. My hands were paw-like, but not complete paws. They could still do things human hands did, but because of my size, handling small human sized things was difficult, which would mean that any sort of gun would need to be specially built to fit Megan's fingers when she grew up. But still, Megan could still hunt if she was de-clawed, but by instinct, Molly had never been inclined to use a weapon and as the hunting season approached, neither did I.
"I couldn't do that to her..." Officer Barnes slowly sighed, "I'm not sure Officer Jenkins could either. I guess I know what I'll be doing this weakened... what about you?"
"Hunting," I answered, "Hunting season starts tomorrow..."
"And you have your days off... and I gotta come in tomorrow" Officer Barnes answered, "Lucky stiff."
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The arrival of hunting season was something that Molly and I had been waiting for. If successful, we would be able to replace a lot of the meat that had been consumed while the York-Rush family was visiting and what Molly and I had eaten between their departure and the start of the hunting season. Not to mention that it was more cost effective in a sense. Considering the amount of meat we ate, the hunting tags were cheaper then buying meat at the store. And so, Molly and I had been looking forward to the hunting season.
Our plan was a sort of shift. Since I had taken time off to go hunting, I would hunt during the morning to early afternoon. And since Molly still had her teaching schedule, she would wait until she came home, which would mean Molly's hunting shift would be from late afternoon until evening. Technically we could both hunt at night, as we had the eyes, ears, nose, and whiskers for it, but the laws tended to prohibit nighttime hunting and spot-lighting. Largely as a safety issue for both people and animals.
"Now, you remember what I've told you as the best strategies for hunting?" Molly questioned to me as we ate breakfast.
I was already wearing the hunting clothes that Molly and I had ordered that matched our stripe patterns. I also nodded in response to Molly's question.
"If a deer turns and lowers its antlers, run away," I nodded.
"Good," Molly nodded, and then gave a almost proud smile, "and have a good time today."
"I'll try to," I smiled back.
"Also with this time of day... you may not need the scent baits," Molly commented, "early morning... they'll probably be moving about from one area to another."
I nodded. The "scent baits" were simple tricks that Molly had picked up last hunting season. Many hunting retail stores in the area sold them. They left the scent of a doe in heat that was fairly pungent. On the few times I'd been able to follow Molly on her hunts last season and she'd used it, I could remember catching that scent. It didn't smell good to my human nose then, and I guessed the better nose I had now wouldn't be that found of it either, as anything other then a food source. It would be left on a rock or bushes and left to the winds to attract deer. And it was fairly successful. Bucks did come to investigate the scent and Molly would circle around from a spot she was hiding behind to move to a point where she would be behind the deer or at least where wind would be blowing toward her and then ambush the deer from there.
But if I could find a deer without using the scented bait, I would take it. I didn't like the scent of it before, and Molly never said she liked it.
"I've got to head out," Molly commented as we finished breakfast, "don't kill all the deer."
I watched as she then made her way toward the front door.
"Save some for me," she gave a smirk and went out.
I only shook my head and set to clearing the table. Plates were put in the sink and left to soak for the moment. And with that done, I went out to begin what would be my first hunting foray. Part of me was excited, while part was partially nervous. I didn't want to get gored, but knowing that I probably could make a better decision then a mundane tiger could, I took a deep breath and trotted into the woods behind Bandhavgarh on all fours.
I did my best to keep myself hidden, letting the stripes on my body and clothing do what Molly and I expected them to. Molly had given some fairly lengthy instructions on techniques. Speed was only key once a deer was targeted. While looking for them, it was best to go slowly as you'd want to be able to ambush the animal before it had a chance either escape or fight back.
For the most part things were fairly quiet as I didn't see anything at first. I could hear the "mooing" of the cattle in the fields of the ranch. For the moment,the cattle were in the pasture closest to the dirt road that went along the front of the ranch property, past Molly's and my cabin, and toward Dave and Tabby's vineyard and home. For the moment, I considered checking to see if any deer were getting a drink at the other stock pond.
As I moved along, my ears ended up proving far more valuable. As I moved from places of cover to cover, I heard the bugle of a male Elk. A bull Elk was in the area, and bugling for his proposed harem of cow Elk. With his mind on other things, that gave me an opportunity and I slowly made my way toward it. The route actually took me toward the ranch land. The bull Elk bugled again a few moments later.
When I arrived in the area, I found where the bull Elk was. He was near the stock pond that had been dug and filled with water on the ranch land. According to Frank Rhoer, stock ponds were commonly deep enough to go swimming in, and some were occasionally stocked with fish. The bull Elk was pacing back and forth near the edge of the pond and was bugling to try and call cow Elk to him. For the moment, he didn't seem to be successful. He appeared relatively healthy and was trying his best to attract cow Elk. But, so far he was unsuccessful in that. As I didn't hear the sound of cow Elk approaching or answering. I could also hear the sound of another bull Elk bugling in the distance.
"Come on," I whispered softly, "turn and take a drink."
The bull Elk didn't drink, but he did turn toward where the other "bugling" sound had come from. He was looking primarily to the south of the pond and away from me. The grass was fairly long in the pasture the Elk was in, and with the cattle in a different pasture, I decided to make an attempt. I stayed low and moved to a side as slowly as I could. Once I felt I was in a spot where I would be more in the Elk's peripheral vision, which was as close as I could to getting behind him, I looked up. The Elk was still bugling toward the south, but had taken a step or two into the stock pond.
I could feel my tail shake in anticipation. The Elk had his mind on other things and had no inclination to think I was there. I slowly moved forward, stopping when the Elk perked his ears to listen to the other bull Elk's replying bugle. When that Elk bugled, I moved forward. He moved very little, and as I got closer, I noticed that when he did, he sank into the mud around the edge of the stock pond and likely the mud that was under the water. That gave me some confidence as I approached. The Elk could easily out run me on dryer ground, but for the moment, he was somewhat stuck in the mud and couldn't get into top gear quickly. My "paws", which are broader then an Elk's hooves, wouldn't sink into the mud as much. I hoped that would give me a good shot at catching this bull Elk.
Once I got close enough, I paused and readied my shoulders to spring forward. The bull Elk was still bugling toward the south, and if he saw me, he wasn't paying enough attention to notice. As he bugled again, my ears caught another sound. A low grunt. I glanced over to see that a lone cow Elk had arrived near the barbed wire fence that surrounded the edge of the pasture. I'd gone under it, and I guessed that the bull Elk had managed to hurdle it, as I didn't say any portion of the fence that appeared to be busted. The cow Elk, however, was looking directly at me, not at the bull Elk. To my great luck though, the bull Elk never did. He, fact, turned saw the cow Elk, gave a short bugle again and began to walk toward her. It was only when he'd made it out of the pond and up a little ways that he realized I was there. The wind was now blowing my scent to him and he knew he wasn't alone.
But by then I was already close enough to spring, and by actually walking toward the cow Elk to the east of us, the bull Elk had shortened the distance on his own. It was then that I sprung forward. Back on solid ground, the bull Elk did have good acceleration, but as close as I was, I did manage to get my claws into one rear flank. The Elk bugled again, this time in pain as I kept claws on front paws extended and hooked into him. Then, using my additional weight, I threw off his balance and brought the bull Elk to the ground.
He tried to struggle and swung his large pairs of antlers in a wide swath, obviously hoping catch my ribs with them. But on the ground, the efforts weren't effective, and after one swipe, I pounced forward from his rear flank to his head, grabbing hold of one antler and pushing it down and sideways. It twisted the Elk's head to the point that it actually began to roll over to try and keep its neck from being snapped, which actually left its throat open to attack. Still holding the bull Elk's antler down, I acted in the way most tigers did with prey. I gripped his throat in my jaws and clamped down with as much force as I could muster.
The fur around the bull Elk's neck tickled my tongue, and I actually felt my canines puncture the Elk's skin underneath the fur. The bull Elk continued to struggle, kicking his front legs forward, though that suddenly grew weaker and weaker as I held him in the suffocation hold that all predatory cats used. I was also low enough that when the Elk did make contact with me, it was more with the bull Elk's knees rather then its hooves. After a few moments, those struggles ceased all together. I did, however, hold him there for awhile. When I did release the Elk, I looked down the prize I had won.
The bull Elk was a large prize. He was no yearling, but I couldn't truly tell if he was old or a prime bull Elk, so I could only assess him to be a mature bull. There was a fair amount of blood staining the grass from the wounds my canines had made to the Elk's neck. In the struggle, I used all the jaw pressure I had and my canines penetrated the skin. Even with that though, a part of me was puzzled. In the documentaries I'd seen after Molly's transformation, I'd actually noticed a lack of blood and gore at the sight where the tiger made the kill. The "bloodier" areas were usually where the tiger dragged its kill to and began to feed on it.
The other thing was the lack of struggle that the bull Elk gave. Once I got my jaws around its neck and clamped down, it's struggles stopped fairly quickly. Considering that Tigers were known to suffocate their prey, I'd figure that the Elk would struggle for awhile before succumbing. The possibility of loss of blood being the case in this instance was fairly high, but I still felt spurts of blood from the Elk's neck in my mouth for a few moments after it had stopped struggling.
I shrugged it off after a moment and began to drag the dead Elk back toward Bandhavgarh Cabin. I dragged it back into the more wild area outside the ranch pasture, just in case any native predator stumbled onto the spot where I'd killed the Elk. That would hopefully lead them away from the cattle.
It was a good start to the hunting season.