Another panther is dead. No radio collar, so it technically didn't exist except as a manifestation of the settlers' fear that sooner than later, those cross-bred carnivores would succumb to their Commanche DNA and start lifting babies off blankets in the very neighborhoods that so many Ohioans had claimed for their very own.
This one was messed up so bad the biologists couldn't tell at first it was a female, or as an old football coach once put it, hit so hard his jockstrap landed in the stands.
It's really better this way. Boil what's left in lye and bleach, wire it into shape with plaster and epoxy to mask the force of the blow and put it in a display case in a museum, living proof of the majesty of Florida's wild lands.
And as close as most people want to get to one. As much proof of its existence as they require.
The balance of nature will be achieved when the number of dead cats maintains pace with the construction of new nature centers. And any developer worth his salt knows its a lot cheaper to donate to a nature museum than to set aside enough room for the wild things to roam.
If you can look out on the landscape under a full moon and feel satisfied knowing the wild things are caged or preserved, you're probably just the person they had in mind when they designed their latest project. If that empty dark bothers you, it's probably because you know you're next.
