Every time there’s a report of a dangerous, predatory animal prowling local woods or waterways I fervently wish that two things don’t happen:

1.) The wild critter doesn’t carry away or swim off with one of the locals.

2.) Some nut who fancies himself as Davy Crockett or Captain Ahab doesn’t take it down with a rifle or harpoon.

Like many longtime residents I’ve heard for years claims that a mountain lion had been spotted in North Stonington and Ledyard, and recall Richard “Skip” Hayward, then the Mashantucket Pequot’s tribal chief, telling me the animal had been seen on occasion near the reservation. I made a few calls to state officials and got the same response that Day Staff Writer Kelly Catalfamo reported in Friday’s newspaper: Authorities insist mountain lions have been extinct in Connecticut for a century and have not seen credible photographs, footprints or scat to confirm the cat’s presence.

That said, I’ve always suspected a mountain lion or two have at least passed through the area. I also know North Stonington First Selectman Nicholas Mullane, who told Catalfamo he’d seen the large cat, and have no reason to doubt he’s telling the truth.

My suspicions about mountain lions in the Nutmeg State were confirmed in 2011 when a mountain lion was struck by a car and killed while trying to cross the Merritt Parkway in Milford — an ignominious end to a majestic creature that evidently wandered here all the way from the Black Hills of South Dakota. The Connecticut Department of Energy and Environmental Protection theorized the lion had been searching for a mate, or as punsters quipped at the time, was looking for love in all the wrong places.

Anyway, let’s hope the North Stonington lion, if there is one, continues to avoid highways and other populated areas, and especially the crosshairs of misguided hunters.

I have to say, though, that most people probably feel as I do and are willing to share the woods with one of nature’s most magnificent animals – as long as it doesn’t prey on pets, or heaven forbid, humans. By most accounts, the shy, furtive creatures keep their distance from people as long as there are ample deer, rabbits and squirrels on which to feed.

The closest I’ve come to seeing anything remotely close to a lion was when I was cross-country skiing a number of years ago in Voluntown’s Pachaug State Forest and a bobcat sprang across the trail.

These wild felines, much smaller and infinitely less dangerous than mountain lions, have been seen locally more frequently in recent years, as have black bears. I’ve come upon black bears in Maine on a number of occasions and never felt particularly threatened, but once came with inches of becoming breakfast for a charging grizzly in Alaska.

I’ve also had a mesmerizingly close encounter with a 60-ft. finback whale while kayaking off Maine’s Monhegan Island, and an even terrifyingly close brush with a shark while rowing across Long Island Sound in an 8-foot pram one horribly long night many years ago.

As much as I dread sharks I’m sickened by sport fishermen seeking trophies to hang in their dens. I find nothing more revoltingly depressing than a photograph of a proud angler standing on a pier next to a dead shark, swordfish or other large marine mammal hanging from a hook.

I wouldn’t mind seeing more whales and black bears in their native habitats, but have pretty much had my fill of sharks and grizzlies.

I feel the same way about mountain lions. I’m quite happy to take the word of witnesses and don’t especially need to see one in the wild.