Why Animals Eyes Glow at Night & Stalked by a Cougar Story
I’ve seen glowing eyes just like this photo, lurking from behind a log, and the cougar was only 10 steps away from me. The worst part, was that I was snuggly tucked inside my mummy sleeping bag, making my quick escape plan look more like peeling off a sticky wetsuit. There was no chance a “dash to the house” would work. I took a deep, calming breath. I couldn’t risk sending out a twinge of fear to such a predator. I ever so slowly reached for my knife, which thankfully I always lay beside my head and with stomach muscles clenched did a painful, 10 second sit-up. I wasn’t going out laying on my back like a cockroach, but I also didn’t want to send out vibes of aggression. I’ve felt the sharpness of cougar claws and I wasn’t about to pick a fight with those deadly shredders. With my headlamp held straight on those glowing eyes, I mustered up the courage and the fierce, stern energy to demand that cat to leave. I thought my voice might startle the big cat, so in my head I declared, “Get up that trail to the forest RIGHT NOW!” His head slightly cocked to the right. I continued, “Get outta here.” “This is not Your place.” Get up that hill NOW.”
He slowly stood up. He was long, muscular and immensely powerful looking. I couldn’t help but stare in awe of such a magnificent animal. He took a step towards the hillside, his head twisted to keep his eyes locked on me. I continued my internal dialogue. By his third step, I no longer could see the eerie glow of his eyeshine. I kept the light on him until he was out of sight, then I jumped up and out of my sleeping back in world record time, flung open the door and slammed it shut. I was ALIVE! I ran to the front door to see if I could see him and just before I twisted the doorknob, I paused. Suddenly, I was shot with an instant of knowing. These moments should never be ignored. I took my hand off the knob. I heard a part of me say, “Hell No, don’t open that, look through the bedroom window first.” A mountain lion face flashed in my mind’s eye. I bolted upstairs and saw nothing.
The next day my pup Cricket and I tracked the cat from the log it crouched behind. It did walk onto my back porch, down the stairs and along my walkway, all the way to my neighbors front yard and back into the forest. Wherever my little dog is chasing frisbees now, I send her my heartfelt love and gratitude for saving my life that night. It was Cricket’s soft growling I heard in my dream that woke me. She was sitting up in our sleeping bag staring out into the blackness of the night, warning me of the cat that only she could see and no doubt smell. I miss you Cricketita One Kenobie.
Many animals, especially nocturnal ones, have a special reflective tissue behind their retinas called the tapetum lucidum, which helps them to see better at night. When light enters the eye it becomes focussed on the retina and the photo-receptor cells, like cones (allows us see color) and rods (helps us see in dim light). The retina acts like film, recording the images formed by the lens and then transmitting the information to the brain. When the small amount of light coming in at night does not hit a photoreceptor, the tapetum acts like a mirror and bounces it back, giving the eyes a second chance to absorb the light. This specialized tissue gives animals the eyeshine we see when our flashlights or headlights beam on them.
Not every animal has irridescent, glowing eyes though, nor do they glow with the same color either. Pigs, daytime squirrels, kangaroos, some of the primates and of course humans, only have red, shining eyes when captured on film by the flash, and that’s only because it’s picking up the blood vessels in our eyes. Glowing eyes can be red, green, yellow, blue and beautiful shades in between, due to age, pigments in the retina and the different substances found in the tapetum itself, like zinc and riboflavin.
It’s a blessing that the predators out here have spooky, glowing eyes because otherwise we’d probably bump right into them when walking around here at night. I don’t leave my house, even to get a stick of firewood, without a knife in my other hand. I leave the dark of the night, as much as I can, to my forest friends.
If you haven’t seen it already, check out the video I posted on my youtube channel Becoming Wild for another eyeshine animal encounter I had while camping. If you want to subscribe to my channel click here.
Hi,
Thanks for what you do. Many years ago I planted trees out of Echo Bay. Special place.
Great story! Reminded me of a cougar encounter a few years ago at treeline on the Flora Lake trail near Chilliwack Lake.
I was hiking downhill at a good clip and suddenly about 5m away and approaching me on the trail was a cougar. In an instant a set of thoughts went through my mind: that thing right there is a real cougar, they do attack and even kill people, I was very much alone, no one would be coming by, there was no cell reception for rescue, and whatever was going to happen would be sorted out between me and it, right now.
I also decided the best thing to do was to intimidate it, as predators are afraid of getting hurt. Not that I had any compelling alternative. I also considered what a beautiful animal it was. I hesitated less than half a step, then despite my misgivings in case my plan went wrong, and despite how unnatural it felt, continued to stride toward it. I raised my arms over my head and commanded it: “”Get out of here, you stupid cougar!” “Get out of here!”
No time to be afraid, just do what has to be done.
Interesting that your story included the same “get out of here” phrase, though I assertively spoke it to the cougar rather than just thinking it. (Not being critical. One time a bear damaged my tent in the middle of the night and that time I weighed what action I should take but I just laid there and did nothing.) Now the “stupid” bit might seem disrespectful, but what went through my mind was that there was no downside to including some humor in the encounter.
The cougar hesitated. I knew I had it off balance and I had to press my advantage. So I continued toward it. It wheeled and disappeared into the bush on the uphill side of the trail.
What to do now?
Bushwhacking or going back over the pass behind me were not good options. So I had to walk past where it had been and keep going. Without showing fear even though it would now have the advantage of being behind me.
Then I remembered I had bear spray. In the bottom of my pack. Naturally. Then a dilemma. The sooner I stopped to dig it out, the sooner I would have the protection. But the sooner also meant stopping closer to the now-invisible cougar.
Anyway I did stop to extract the bear spray and continued down the trail without mishap. I can truthfully say that I looked behind me more than a few times.
Now on such hikes the bear spray and a hunting knife go on my belt, and I carry a PLB.