Post by: fly4fish on September 08, 2011, 07:52:30 PM
Read my story and check out the pictures of the site at my blog here: Mountain Lion Encounter (http://www.bestforhunting.com/2011/09/mountain-lion-encounter)
Do any of you have any good Mountain Lion Encounter stories where it was more then just a sighting?
Post by: Ranger91298 on September 08, 2011, 08:15:50 PM
Post by: B.G.hunter on September 08, 2011, 08:23:18 PM
Post by: DOUBLELUNG on September 08, 2011, 08:24:04 PM
He walked out called UT DWR and took them to the scene. They looked at the dead cat, his heel marks and ass print, and called it a clean self defense shooting. Lactating adult female, they thought perhaps she was defending her litter (very odd behavior though), they looked but did not find the kittens.
Later that year, he was intently reading an article in Audubon magazine about mountain lion attacks, when his wife snuck up behind him and dropped their house cat in his lap! She says he screamed just like a little girl.
Post by: Axle on September 08, 2011, 08:54:57 PM
I only wish I could have shot and then eaten them. Maybe next time.
Post by: CamoDup on September 08, 2011, 09:08:55 PM
Post by: Ranger91298 on September 08, 2011, 09:29:22 PM
The only Mountain Lion I have seen was in the summer of 1993/1994 just before entering in the Army. My dad's hunting partner, his son and I headed up to our usual hunting spot to fix a treestand that some hunters knocked loose the season before. We were about to drive around a corner when a Lion jumped from the bank on the right side of the road; landed in the middle of the road (he seriously took up 3/4 of the road from head to end of tail) and then disappeared down the bank on the left side of the road. The following day we hiked up to our treestand which was just over the hilltop from where we saw the lion. We took a .22 rifle with us just for the heck of it. We got all the way up to the treestand and caught a horrible smell; not 10 yards away from the treestand was a burried calf elk with cat tracks all around it. We spent the next 30 minutes looking over our shoulder while fixing the stand. Even though we had the .22 with us it still didn't seem like enough. After we finished with the stand we took off back down the hill. That is when a frickin mule deer joe jumped 15 yards from us. I think we all came out of our boots at that time and to this day I swear she had a smirk on her face like she knew what she did...
That same hunting partner of my dad's was elk hunting in our current spot in the 2008 season. He was walking through a pretty brushy area when he came across a calf elk carcass that was neatly burried. He called my dad and asked him what animals will burry their prey nice and neat. He answered back that a Lion or Grizzly Bear will do it since we hunt in an area that the regulations say "Grizzly Bears may be encountered". After my dad's response he got out of there. After a little while curiousity got the better of him so he walked back to where the calf was. He kicked the leg of the calf and immediately heard a growl come from the brush in front of him. So after that significatn emotional event he left the area and never returned.
Post by: fly4fish on September 09, 2011, 04:57:22 AM
Post by: swanny on September 09, 2011, 07:21:33 AM
Just last night I was wondering what I would do with a cougar encounter as a buddy and I were rock climbing outside of North Bend. As I was belaying him, I thought to myself, I'm cougar dinner if one were to ever walk by.
Post by: jackmaster on September 09, 2011, 12:22:55 PM
Post by: LCRetrievers on September 10, 2011, 07:47:05 AM
Post by: grizzlyadams on September 10, 2011, 11:46:16 AM
Post by: grizzlyadams on September 10, 2011, 11:49:46 AM
right after i got stationed at ft lewis i got to get back to deer huntn, went to this old swamp bottom and ended up following some young cougars well i left them alone and headed back, well one of the cats decided to follow me, as he jumped off an embankment and landed in the saw grass he dissapeared, i could see the grass moving and then i could make out a catsn face at 6 to 7 ft away, i talked in a loud voice and the cat wouldnt leave, i hunt with a single shot so i wasnt gonna shoot to try and scare him, well he layed his ears back and rolled back on his honches as he was getn ready to jump on my sorry ass i cracked him right in the cheek and it came out his neck, he was a dead kitty, he was so close that i had to barrel shoot him, he was a young tom 90 plus some change, dillman the game warden said that the young cat probably wasnt affraid of humans, maybe his mom got killed before he could be taught, in the end i got to keep the cat, my friend little bro wanted to pack it out and when we put it around his neck it crapped all down him, now you ever want to smell the worse thing in the world, give that a smell :bdid: :puke:
Exactly why you never pack out an animal before you gut it.....yuck!
Post by: jackelope on September 12, 2011, 01:01:02 PM
;)
Post by: dblakney on September 12, 2011, 01:56:18 PM
A few years back my hunting partner and I were hunting the Entiat Mountains on a cold early morning bow hunt. We were camped under the watchful presence of Sugarloaf peak and awoke to a crystal clear morning high in the range east of Chumstick. As the sun began to light the night time sky and night turned to day, we finished our morning preparations, slammed the last bit of coffee, and headed out into the timber to begin our hunt. As we approached the site we fittingly named the “Honey Hole” it lived up to its name as there was a large mule deer doe feeding on the morning dew soaked brush. With the wind right, and cover on my side, I crept slowly closer and closer to within 40 yards. With the snap of a twig under my feet she looked up and stared unknowingly but aware. That glare seemed to last forever, I held my position still; no movement. The steam was rising slowly from the cold damp ground and the sun was breaking the crest of the horizon, then nothing. Shocked that she went back to feeding I felt comfort and realized how perfect the stock as the cool breeze blew against my face, straight on. Again I moved forward, found my window, drew the bow, and loosed the arrow. All things slow down; the arrow flies straight to its target and I follow it through the shot as it smacks loudly, like smashing wood with a mallet as she bucks. Her hind legs flail into the air and she is off and running. At this point I am flushed with adrenalin, overjoyed and confident in the outcome. Early celebrations give way to what was to become on a long cold sugarloaf morning.
Several hours had passed and still no sign… No blood, no arrow; tracks lost in the thick brush that covers the sandy ash laden ground of a once thick forest burned by fire. The contrast of the dead standing lodge poles stretching to the dark blue sky, like tooth picks on a homemade play dough mountain, gave way to eerie sensations and an overwhelming feeling of loss. I could not abandon my deer, but it was time to regroup and re assess the situation. We pulled back out of the area and found a good spot to sit and rest and re-consider what had happened. All things race through the mind, did I miss? Was that sound of my arrow crashing into her just dead wood? A stump or a log? Can’t be! I knew I hit her, I saw my arrow fly true! Was it my shot placement, did I miss the mark? Did I wound her? Is she a mile away and suffering, dying, returned to nature? It can be a confusing feeling; disappointment, insecurity, needing to dive head first into the search. Never give up. My hunting partner made a suggestion to check out another location just a short walk away. We discussed our options and felt it was not a bad idea to move away, hunt, then come back and search for sign again in an hour or so. It was around 9:30 am and the thought of leaving my dear was devastating, but leaving the area and letting things settle for me and perhaps a wounded animal was the best thing we could have done, at least we thought.
We hunted for another hour or so that morning pushing timber over several drainages with little to no sign. And it was time to return and search for her once again. Back at camp we got the truck and drove to a location closer to where we would search again. My hunting partner was a bit reluctant, but I knew, I knew I had made contact. We left the majority of our gear; bows, and some heavier items stashed in the truck where we parked behind a slash pile close to the road. We hiked nearly a mile or so to our location and began to search for sign when it happened! Several hours of staring at dirt, twigs, and leaves, and just as I was about to give up hope, turn around, and head back to camp in disbelief, I saw it. Like a rusty red stain on a brand new white shirt there it was, lying on the ground beneath my feet next to my boot, the blood trail. Overjoyed as I fell to my knees to closely inspect what I had found I called out to my good friend. “Blood… I have Blood!” Tiny specs of somewhat dried but still wet blood became more and more prevalent as we followed the trail. For nearly thirty minutes we slowly made it closer and closer and there she was. Excitement yielded to the realization that I forgot something important. It had been several hours since I made the shot and I knew we needed to act quickly, but in unloading my gear I had left a few important items back at the truck (I now keep my tags and field dressing necessities in a separate dity bag for time like this). At that moment I realized those important items were nearly a mile away. My hunting partner volunteered to run as fast as possible back to the truck and grab my bag and his camera. Unbelievably fast, he returned in short time and I began the hard work of filed dressing. As far as how we found her, she laid up on the side of a northwest facing slope surprisingly and thankfully still slightly protected by the shade of that dead standing forest and a cool afternoon breeze. To think this morning, this day, could get any stranger was an afterthought, as I got down on my hands and knees cutting around her back side when I heard those dreadful words… “Dude a Cougar”
Just to my left hand side about five feet away from me was a stump, and behind that stump a small scraggly green bush. As I began to insert my knife and make my cut my hunting partner uttered three words. At the time I thought to myself, keep working, I did not hear that. As those three words were not registering. Then again, as I slowly began to look up at his face I knew, “DUDE A COUGAR” meant only one thing. Paralyzed with fear as he held the front leg of my dear he began to back up. Stopped by a fallen log nearly toppling him over I realized by the body language it was serious. Turning to my left to see that small green bush dwarfed by a massive cat creeping in on its front forearms was a sight I pray to never see again. The Cat was fixed on my hunting partner. Instincts prevailed and as I tossed my hunting knife over my shoulder in a jerk reaction I grabbed the closest stick (twigs in reality) I could find. As the cats face turned to see me rising from the earth I charged at it, its face sneering, it began to turn towards me. In a pouncing position it laid waiting as I charged. I took two steps and bellowed the most primal scream I have ever heard from a man and leapt towards the cat. With little hesitation it reacted in a promising manner turned bounded over a large fallen log and made its way. With hearts pounding we watched as the cougar quickly ran through the clearing and into the distance. As its pace slowed and running turned to a trot the cat leapt gracefully across a fifteen foot ravine and into the tall stand of trees across the drainage. To this day I have never finished field dressing and hauling a deer back to the truck faster than we did that day
Post by: jbhtiger on September 12, 2011, 02:09:15 PM
Holy everything, that is awesome.
I haven't had a bad encounter, ... yet. Mine are more comical.
Earlier this summer I surprised a cougar. I was moving my trail cam, walking down a powerline road. I counded a corner and that cat didn't know I was approaching. And I didn't know it was there. It was facing away from me, laying down. We made visual contact at about 10 feet, and it took off quick. My thought process was:
"wow, look at that thick tail. huh, black on the end of it. jeez, it's about time i see one of those."
That took about a second, and then I started running after it to keep it in sight. It just disappeared into the brush. Exciting.
On a later recon mission, I realized that the cougar exited on a small game trail. So I'll have the camera on there after I fill my tags.
I used to run lots in the woods, before work, pre dawn with a headlamp. 4am in the winter dark. Over 1000s of miles, never had an encounter.
Post by: dblakney on September 12, 2011, 02:14:19 PM
Post by: Kowsrule30 on September 12, 2011, 08:26:18 PM
Post by: denali on September 12, 2011, 08:33:31 PM
Post by: sledjockey on September 14, 2011, 03:54:10 PM
I spent most of my "formative outdoors years" in Wyoming so I had learned very young in life to always carry a gun while in the bush. When I was in high school (sophomore year) we moved to Orting, WA. We moved out to a little spread with horses and such outside of town and part of our property went up a big arsed hill and back to a power line easement. It was only a couple fences to cross and we had a straight shot from our back pasture through to Champion land to get to Mt. Rainier.
Anyway, I was a senior and out goofing around on horseback up on the power line easement above our house. I knew there was a pack of wild dogs that ran that area so I used to carry an old family heirloom 30-30 and had a cantle bag that I carried my dad's .357 in. No one ever bothered me since we knew everyone around, including the game warden that worked that area. As a matter of fact, I shoed his horses....
Now back on subject, I was riding my mother's horse and just being a dumb kid when all 4 of the horses hooves went out in opposite directions, her ears when straight back, she did some sort of a weird twisting jump thing sideways and she just started staring into the brush ahead of us. I thought it was probably the pack of dogs or something so I (note the age) thought I was all bad arse and pulled the 30-30 and the pistol. There were dreams of being Rooster Cogburn or something going through my head.
About 10-15 yards ahead of me a cougar stepped out and onto the power line road. The horse started backing up and ran her butt into a patch of blackberries. As I got off one shot out of each weapon (one in each hand), the horse jumped/twisted/bolted. The cougar did the same. I dropped both the pistol (broke the ejection spring) and the rifle (chipped up the stock but couldn't tell with all the other chips) almost fell out of the saddle. It took FOREVER to get the derned horse to quit running.
Long story longer, I learned a lot that day. I learned that I was not capable of pulling off a John Wayne stunt. I learned how fast that horse could run. I also learned that my father has no sense of humour....
Post by: jmx369 on September 14, 2011, 08:11:21 PM
dblakney,
I have posted this before... Long read and I am not the best writer, but hope you all enjoy...
Post by: Andrew on September 15, 2011, 01:08:01 PM
Obviously my dog must have been the flavor of the night.
Post by: jackmaster on September 15, 2011, 02:05:21 PM