El Ñato

The Ñato

I find him quite scruffy
But with a well-kept back
And being well-fed
With short hair he looks
Kind of clumsy at times
Depends on the weather and the area
With somewhat short ears
And looks somewhat forlorn
When the dogs chase him
His reputation as a hunter
In the North Patagonia
As long as no one stops him
He will carry it in splendor
The rhea is the best
Dish that the sly one eats
Then capons, foals
And even the most beautiful calf
He beats them all
And that's without a knife
He's stubborn when packed
And in his innocent face
If he starts showing his teeth
Beware of the swipe
Medium tall and stocky
With a smooth and flat back
He has the shape of a cat
But he's big and burly
Some call him 'big-tailed'
And others call him 'the ñato'

They say that to hunt
After searching for the wind
He waits for just the right moment
To be able to jump it
Because once he sniffs
The direction of the Guanacos
No matter how tricky they are
If he can swipe at them
He won't let go even if he gets tangled in grass and alpataco

I have seen being monthly
Killed by the phantom lion
Ten capons in one night
And that's not by chance
From dead livestock
Where the foxes take advantage
And I say it without hesitation
With a sad experience
That the lioness is more harmful
When she's with her cubs
She doesn't sleep in the Pajonal
But not too far either
It must be that like few others
The animal is cautious
That's why if a monthly
Surprises him with work
If he manages between bushes and branches
To deceive the pack
Making a great trail
He sneaks away downwind
But if in his wandering
He's being rushed
He jumps to the hills and lying down
Flat he usually stays