1
Rad
June 7, 1:00 p.m.
If I didn’t already know where to look, I never would’ve noticed the bobcat in the brush a few yards away. It hasn’t twitched, but I can feel its eyes boring into me, locked in on the threat.
Right back at you, cat.
I angle the selfie stick so I can get the animal and my Radley Shaw signature grin in the shot. Rad Wilderness viewers like the animals, but videos with me talking to the camera always get the most views.
“This is a juvenile bobcat. Since it’s not full-grown, it’s not that much bigger than a common house cat.” I let myself breathe a little harder than usual, to really sell the danger of what I’m doing, but I keep my voice low and even.
I’m a professional, after all.
“You can tell the difference between a bobcat and a neighborhood pet a couple of ways. That tuft of black hair at the tips of the ears is a big sign. They usually have them on their legs, too, which we can’t see from this angle.”
The cat twitches now, and I stop talking, waiting to see what it’s going to do. I don’t open my mouth again until I’m sure it’s not going to pounce.
I keep my voice at a whisper. “The tails are also a huge giveaway. Bobcats have shorter, bobbed tails, not long, fluffy ones. But the main difference is that bobcats aren’t pets. They’re unpredictable, and if their instincts tell them to attack humans, their paws and claws are larger and more powerful than a house cat’s. I don’t know about you, but I don’t like getting scratched by those, either.”
I give the camera a practiced grin.
“The trick now is for me to get out of here without making myself look like a threat.” I nod toward the cat. “Or turning my back and looking like prey.”
The sounds I make inching through the tall grass are the only ones my phone will pick up, but I hear the click of a man’s tongue behind me. I flatten milliseconds before the bobcat flies over my head, just in time to capture the animal’s majestic leap and nothing but blue sky above it.
The gasp that escapes me is involuntary, but it adds to the moment. My viewers are going to eat this up.
“Did you guys see that?” I ask, training the camera on my own face again. “That. Was. Awesome! That right there is the difference between a house cat and a bobcat, up close and personal.”
I make a show of looking around for the animal and coming up empty. “I need to stay alert out here tonight. I’m signing off, but I’ll be back with any new developments. Don’t forget to hit like and subscribe. And as always, stay rad.”
I hit the red button to end the recording and start to sit up.
“Hold on a sec.” Dad signals me to stay where I am, unaware—or maybe just not caring—how uncomfortable I am staying prone with the cat nearby. “Make sure you got the shot.”
I replay the moment the big cat leapt over my head and nod. “It’s perfect. Thanks.”
The cat’s owner leans over and feeds the bobcat a strip of red meat—his prize for leaping on cue—and then turns all his attention to my dad. Leave it to Curtis Shaw to know a guy with a pet bobcat. For a man who still hasn’t figured out how to talk to his own son, my dad is remarkably good at making friends.
Did either of them even hear what I was saying?
The animal is still again, watching me, and I’m careful not to turn my back on him while I’m packing up my things. Dad and his friend might think the animal is tame, but I meant what I said. Trying to domesticate wild animals is stupid. They follow their instincts.
My instincts tell me that pretending to camp in the middle of nowhere while a trained bobcat leaps over my head is stupid, even if it will get me likes and views.
But I’m ignoring them . . .
Because that’s the Radley Shaw way.
Copyright © 2026 by Joslin Brorsen. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
