Spicewood Springs Road — June 2025

“It was late at night and I was looking for a spot out of the way to rest until daylight came. I was homeless at the time. I found what I believed was public land and pushed my way through the brush and down an embankment. The woods opened up into a thinner series of clearings, with some really old, beautiful live oak trees. The place had a very still, odd feeling to it. It was very dark; I could only tell there was space to lay down and rest by the size of the live oak canopy.

I took a step forward and, as I did, I heard something on four legs sprint toward me through the weeds. About five to ten yards in front of me I heard a tree shake and claws digging into the bark, desperately scraping their way up. My first impression was that a dog had treed a mountain lion right in front of me. It was big—whatever it was. A couple of seconds later I heard a THWACK along with the sound of chains hitting the ground. “It’s caught in a trap!” I thought. My butthole puckered up and I stood straight as a board for probably five whole minutes because I didn’t know how long the chain was.

I pulled out my phone, but the backlight only lit about three feet of space in front of me. I waved that light up and down, trying to get an idea of what direction would be safe to move in. I couldn’t see a thing. If it was any color other than black, I would have been able to make it out. I backed up slowly for about thirty yards. Nothing. So I squatted down on the embankment for about twenty minutes, trying to slow my heart rate, catch my breath, and let my eyes adjust. Still nothing.

The next time I returned to that spot I saw no evidence of a trap, a big cat, a dog, or claws in the bark of the live oak. Nothing.

A couple of nights later I was looking for a different safe place to rest. This was the opposite side of the road, maybe a quarter mile from the original encounter. I took off into a drainage ditch down from the sidewalk. I hit the bottom of the ditch and no sooner had I put my foot on flat ground than I saw something run toward me from the opposite side. I picked up a limb or something that was laying next to me to fend off whatever it was. I just couldn’t see what it was—too dark. I did see it moving around the ditch, pausing here and there to size me up or scare me.

I backed away about fifteen yards and then noticed more movement up on the opposite bank underneath a small tree. When I looked, I saw three or four sets of glowing red eyes. They were all huddled together, just peering back at me. The light was only enough to show the reflection of their eyes; I couldn’t positively identify any colors or markings on them. They did move and sound like cats. These seemed smaller than the first one and I did not hear any chains, so I assumed they were juveniles and hadn’t developed chains yet.

After a few minutes of staring at them—watching the red eyes disappear and reappear—I decided it probably wasn’t safe to sleep there that night and continued on. I pass through there from time to time and haven’t had any more encounters with them, nor have I been able to make out the colors of their coats. I do hope the babies are grown and healthy though. Stay safe out there, y’all.” -M.B.