Right about this time last year, we were living in a cottage on the edge of a redwood grove located at the bottom of a mountain. We'd see all kinds of shit, bears, deer, bob cat, fox, and a fisher cat. One night we're getting fried, watching Netflix or something and hear this bump outside. I get up to open the door, figuring it's always cool to see a raccoon or something up close when I'm super baked. My partner turns the light on and looks out the window as my hand is turning the knob and says "Holy shit. That's a big cat." I look out the window and there's a fucking mountain lion, probably 7 feet long, nose to tail staring into our window from the porch. That magical motherfucker sauntered away into the night. Seeing as I was hiking 2 miles through the forest to grad school most days, 8am and 830pm, the month of November was pretty nerve wrecking.
Mountain lions are badass but man, they're hard neighbors to have.