Not wanting to “beat a dead horse,” I had stopped reporting about Pioneer Valley mountain lion, or cougar, sightings by the late 1980s. Well, that horse has sprung to life, so I think I’ll ride it and see where it takes me.

Yeah, I’m fully prepared for accusations from wildlife officials that I’m being “irresponsible” for bringing the controversial subject back to light. But, hey, I’m in the news business and they seem to be in the business of sweeping this story under the carpet. In fact, that’s why I backed off nearly two decades ago, after reporting several local cougar sightings and discussing them with experts at the state level. The explicit instructions were to back off before I stirred up big-cat hysteria.

These same people who favored the “conservative approach” admitted that many of the cougar sightings had been made by “straight shooters” with no reputation for spinning yarns. Thus, there was no reason to doubt them. Nonetheless, the experts said, the sightings did not prove the existence of a reproductive population of big cats in New England, where they indisputably roamed during the first two centuries of settlement. More likely was a scenario by which someone had purchased a young cougar, run into problems controlling it and illegally released it. And, of course, there was always the possibility that “roamers,” probably young males from Great Lakes territory and beyond, had passed through the area in wanderlust, seeking out new territory.

Although both theories are certainly possible, perhaps even probable, from my perspective it doesn’t really matter where the big cats are coming from. The point is they’re being spotted throughout the Northeast, and have been for a generation.

Who cares if there isn’t a “reproductive population” at the present time. That’s not the issue. There wasn’t a reproductive moose population here 25 years ago, either, just sightings. But now a native population has been established, and it’s not uncommon to see a cow and her calves in a Franklin County pasture. Moose returned with the reforestation of southern New England and so have black bears. So what’s to prevent big cats from repopulating the region? That’s the question, and there appears to be no valid explanation why it can’t happen, if it hasn’t already, in the hinterlands of northern New England. So if there are indeed cougars among us, how long before they’re here to stay? Ten years? Twenty-five? No one knows.

Since a discussion began in this space a few weeks ago, I have received a lot of feedback, more than I could possibly present in one column, most by eye witnesses, one by a professional doubting Thomas I have great respect for. In fact, just a couple of minutes ago the Greenfield Postmaster was in my yard and he told me of a friend who’d made a plaster mold of a cougar track he discovered in Brimfield. On Saturday, I had another local man in my home, showing me sharp photos of a cougar track he found in a Shelburne orchard. That’s how wild this big-cat chase has gotten. They’re coming out of the woodwork. So, I’ll have to piecemeal the information I receive until it dries up, as I assume it will. But you never know, it may snowball.

This week we’ll focus on an interesting phone call I received a week ago, midafternoon. The man on the other end was Mike Pekarski, calling from his family’s smokehouse on Route 116 in Deerfield. He had a tale to tell. A good one.

Before I continue, it’s important to disclose that Pekarski and I have had many wildlife discussions over the past decade while I was shopping at his store, but he never told me he’d seen a big cat up close and personal. What made it even more intriguing was the site of his observation. Why? Because it was less than a mile from the tracks, big around as a softball, I witnessed in fresh snow with my own brown eyes during the most-recent shotgun deer season.

Pekarski’s story takes place on opening day of the 2003 shotgun deer season. I will not disclose the location other than to say it was in Conway, not far from the Deerfield River. Pekarski arrived at dawn and intended to sit it out till dark if necessary.

After arriving at his stand, secluded motionless behind a large hemlock atop a ledge for about three hours, Pekarski detected movement coming his way at 9 a.m., 9:30. As the animal approached, he realized he was watching something special. A big cat.

Totally unaware of the hunter’s presence, the cat walked to within 15 or 20 yards of Pekarski and stopped, providing a clear, unobstructed view for a frozen period of time he described as the longest 30 seconds of his life.

“It was the color of a manila folder, except for its black snout, and its head was big as a volleyball,” he recalled. “It was so close that I could see its whiskers. Finally, it looked up at the ledge, we met eyes and it turned and bounded out of sight. Its tail was long, probably 15 to 18 inches.”

Pekarski said the animal’s shoulders were wider than his rottweiller/husky mix dog’s, its track wider than his fist. If you’ve never met Pekarski, take it from one who has: He carries a pretty good set of meat hooks around with him.

“It was head and shoulders over any coyote; longer, too,” he said. “Minimum of  80 pounds.”

Not wanting to create a public spectacle, Pekarski has been selective, if not secretive,  about sharing his sighting. But he did run it by a couple of Environmental Police Officers, who paid close attention.

“They told me anything’s possible,” he said.

Anything, that is, except hallucinations.