Even at present we occasionally
hear of a catamount or an "Indian devil"; but perhaps the last real
panther was trapped and shot in the town of Wardsboro, Vermont, in 1875.
There can be no doubt whatever that it was a genuine panther, for its
skin and bones, handsomely mounted, as taxidermists say, can be seen at
any time in the Museum of Natural History in Boston. It is a fine
specimen of the New England variety of the _Felis concolor_ and would no
doubt have proved an ugly customer to meet on a dark night.
No doubt there were panthers larger than that one. According to Uncle
Billy the Wardsboro panther was a mere kitten to the one that he once
encountered when he was a boy of fourteen. Our old Squire, who then was
fifteen years old, was with him and shared the experience. But try as we
would, we never could induce him to tell the story. "You get Uncle Billy
Murch to tell you about that," he would say and laugh. "That's Uncle
Billy's story; he tells it a little better every time, and he has got
that catamount so large now that I am beginning to think that it must
have been a survival of the cave tiger." Yet when pinned down to it the
old Squire admitted that he was with Grandsir Billy on that night and
that they did have an alarming experience with an animal that beyond
doubt was a large and hungry panther.
Pages:
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424