kidso

Sitting water that you have scouted out to have bear activity is a great bet to hedge...if you have the patience. I tried it and became bored out of my mind and started hitting the call again, my favorite mode of bear hunting.

My First Lion It was September 15, 2003, a day that I will long cherish as a favored memory. Not only was it the day that I tagged my first lion, but it was also the day that prompted a chain of events that led up to my wonderful marriage with my eternal Sweetheart. What started it all, you might ask? My passion for calling in Arizona bears with hand-held predator calls. A day earlier, I drove into the Sierra Anchas Mountains in my trusty aging metallic blue Chevy Astro van. Yes, I lacked a true four-wheel drive vehicle, but Old Bluey was built upon a truck chassis, so I felt somewhat secure in my adventure. With careful negotiating, I drove her in as far as I dared on the rugged two-track without losing an axle and pulled over into a small clearing just big enough to clear the roadway. I knew I had to hike in nearly eight additional miles to make it to the spot where I had glassed a black bear feeding in the prickly pear cactus one week earlier. Without skipping a beat, I donned my backpack, slung my beat-up Savage 30-.06 over my shoulder, and scurried further along the now washed-out two-track with anticipation flowing through my veins. Just as I rounded the bend in front of me, however, my heart rate plummeted, as I saw three individuals loading hunting gear on the front of their quads. As I approached them, with no intention of stopping, one of them asked me if I was out looking for bear. I politely responded that I was and wished them luck in their own hunting endeavors. As I tried to hustle on by, another competitor asked me if I wanted a ride. Instantly, I froze in my tracks. Now, that particular question --in itself-- was innocent enough. But, any acceptance of that offer would ultimately reveal the location of my secret hotspot…and that --in itself-- would border upon second-degree self-stupidity! Thus, I kindly declined and stated that I really didn’t have far to go and continued on my way. Within five minutes, the small caravan of brothers passed me at a moderate speed and baptized me in a cloud of swirling dust. Several hours and liters of water later, I rounded the final bend in the road to my secret hotspot and nearly did have a heat attack as I spotted all three of the good Samaritans propped up on the rocks, my rocks, glassing across the canyon to the prickly pear ridges stretching along the expanse. Being good sports, none of them asked me again how far in I was planning to hike and I quietly ate a piece of humble pie while climbing up on the rocks beside them. In retrospect, I think I actually devoured and nearly choked on the entire dessert over that one! After glassing the terrain with my new-found friends for nearly an hour, our conversation shifted to the discussion of what each individual thought we should do to maximize the upcoming evening hunting period. Each of the Samaritans suggested heading off to different areas to glass, while I proffered the idea that I would just stay put and attempt to call in a bear from one of the many canyons that fed into the area that we were glassing. The Brothers Three nearly laughed me off the rocks and had absolutely no faith in the idea that black bears could be called in with a rabbit-in-distress vocalization. Two of the brothers continued to ridicule me as they rode off on their quads in opposite directions from our location, while the third sat quietly, patiently waiting for his comrades to disappear. He then broke the silence by asking if I was serious about calling a bear in, and if calling for bears really does work. I simply smiled and replied that it would…as long as lady luck was with us! About an hour later, we took up positions on our rock outcropping and I began to wail away on my hand-held Tally-Ho. I squealed and squelched on that red, open-reed tantalizer with everything I had, and at about the forty minute mark…“BEAR!” “BEAR!” again repeated the lone gunman who remained with me while hastily pointing towards a ridge about 600 yards to our right. I continued to blast away and focused my eyes that direction and easily spotted the large chocolate bear coming down off the ridge towards us. He actually angled downwards and slunked onto the two-track I had hiked in on earlier that day. At that point, I began witnessing one of the most incredible sights I have ever observed. I paused in my calling and watched the boar reduce his speedy gait to a slow uninterested walk. However, when I began calling again, he immediately proceeded to swing his head side to side with an out-hanging tongue and quickly increased his pace to a steady lope. I was so intrigued by the bear’s response that I tried stopping and restarting my calling several times. Each time I did, Mr. Chocolate responded in tandem with changes in his own speed and interest. I was playing him like a fiddle! It was then that reality set in as we realized that Brother Number Two was also on the two-track, sitting on his quad and glassing off into another canyon completely oblivious of the mammalian threat that was quickly approaching him! We starting yelling at him and began jumping up and down waving our arms in an attempt to grab his attention...but alas, our efforts remained fruitless. The bear kept advancing along a transect that placed Number Two between the two of us, thus forfeiting any shot that we could safely take. Mr. Chocolate came to within 20 feet of the unsuspecting hunter before realizing that he just wasn’t hungry enough to try to pass the mass of machinery that was blocking his advance, so he angled upwards and disappeared among the ridges above us. Within five minutes, we were at Number Two’s side showing him the bear tracks in the dirt that nearly signaled his premature demise. Although he was more than shocked, Number Two began to transition into a true believer. For he too, like his brother, was now buying into the idea that a bear will respond to a human-induced predatory symphony. Well, we all regrouped within 10 minutes at the rock outcropping, due to the fading sunlight, and planned possible scenarios for calling in the bear at first light. Unfortunately, the Brothers Three were under the belief that the bear would continue uphill along the ridge and that we should make a stand along the back side of that ridge. I, however, felt impressed to believe that the bear would double back along the ridge and return to lower elevations on our current side. Thus, we had reached an impasse, and I as the caller refused to yield to their belief. We parted ways respectfully, after I gladly accepted their offer for a ride back to Old Bluey, fully knowing that we would be on opposite sides of the mountain in the morning. I could hardly sleep that night, anticipating the early hike to an area along the ridge where I felt that Mr. Chocolate might be bedded down. At 3:00 am, my wrist watch cried out way too early for my aching body, but my mind was sharp and eager to get the day started. I hiked out slowly and quietly, enjoying the unseasonably warm air for that time of year and made my way to the general area where I wanted to execute my first stand. Because I carried no flashlight, I was a little unsure of my exact location, but I knew I was close enough to do some damage. Thus, I settled into a thicket of juniper bushes and propped my back against one of their thick trunks and waited for the welcoming dawn. When daylight first began peeking over the hills before me, I met it head on with a chorus of screams. At 22 minutes into the chorale, a dusky tan colored creature materialized without any warning just 15 feet in front of me. Due to the perfect alignment of its body, all I could was its face, with eyes staring directly at me. In a matter of microseconds, my life flashed before me as I simultaneously raised my ought-six to my shoulder and saw my reflection in the eyes of the lion morphing into steaming hotdogs. That’s when my rifle fired and everything went blank. It went blank because I must have blinked or momentarily closed my eyes when I instinctively squoze the trigger. When I opened my eyes, the wild feline was gone without a trace. I sat there shaking in my boots due to a mixture of adrenaline, shock, and fear. Reality returned after a brief moment and I ejected the spent round and chambered another 180 grain bruiser. I walked over to where the lion had sat facing me and searched the ground for any sign of blood. At the 20 foot mark, I spotted a strange sight --large golf-ball sized chunks of reddish material lying on the ground with a composite volume of about two cups. Strangely, however, there was not a single drop of blood mixed in with the organic goulash. After closer examination, I believed the material to be slightly digested prickly pear fruits, which was even stranger, as lions are strictly carnivores and wouldn’t touch a cactus pear with a four-foot tail! A feeling of despair soon set in and my heart began to hurt as I assumed that my shot had not actually hit the lion, but struck the ground near it, causing the cougar to vomit out its stomach contents as it leapt away in fear. Dejectedly, I donned my daypack and started hiking away from my stand when that little voice deep inside me whispered to go back and look around a little bit longer. After all, it was a lion that I had shot at, not some small fox or coyote. Thus, I returned to the spot of organic mush and started circling in ever-widening patterns, when much to my astonishment, I found a single drop of blood about 70 yards away on a small stone. At that point I dropped to my belly and scrutinized the ground intently, looking for any sign that my lion had passed through that direction. Sure enough, I was able to find a bent blade of grass, a moved pebble, and a scratch in the soil. So I continued onwards on my hands and knees for the next two-hours, literally crawling along a low-lying ridge following the sign that I was finding, which still had not yielded another drop of blood. The escape trail was leading me under the low-hanging limbs of yet another widespread juniper, so I dropped all the way down on my belly and slithered like a snake to stay directly on the sign when I heard a loud HISS a few feet away from me. I instantly recoiled and lifted my head upwards and banged it on the tree limbs when another HISS sounded out. I froze and turned my head sideways to see the lion about six feet away from me on the opposite side of the same juniper! It was lying on its side with its jaws agape and its eyes fixated on me. It was then that I noticed its insides hanging out of its belly. I was petrified and exhilarated all at once, but was unable to raise my rifle in the tight space in which I was confined. Thus, I reached to my side and retrieved my .38 special from its holster and sent one round flying into the chest of the beast. It may have moved a few inches with the ballistic impact, but the lion never made it out from under the tree. It expired before my eyes! My first thought was, “Boy am I glad that I listened to my inner voice and came back to investigate the stand one more time!” My second thought was, “If I had only bagged that bear last night, I could have tagged both species back to back!” And my third and final thought was, “It’s getting warm and I need to gut this cat quickly and start the long hike back to my Astro!” Well, to wrap the story up, I made it back to Old Bluey with the lion on my back, skinned her out, and boned the meat. I determined that my initial 180-grain bullet entered the cat in its front chest beneath the rib cage and opened her up like a zipper before exiting near the bottom of her belly. I think the red cactus pieces were actually liver chunks or parts of some other organ that the bullet dissected along its lateral trajectory. And what does any of this have to do with my beautiful wife and marriage? Well, at this point in my life, I was interested in seriously pursuing one of three women in the dating world. So I contacted all three of them with the information that I had just tagged a lion and asked if they would be interested in seeing any pictures of it. Well, bachelorette number one responded with the rage of a tsunami and blasphemed me for taking the life of a poor little helpless animal. Bachelorette number two refused to talk with me any more after that fateful day. And bachelorette number three stated that she wouldn’t mind viewing the photographs, as long as they weren’t too bloody. So, can you guess which one became the Mrs. and wears a matching wedding band with engraved mountain lions?

I guess you won't have to put up with that pesky bear next year! Good job! What day and time did you harvest him?

Weight is probably the toughest thing to assess on a bear, as it can only be done if you have perfect access to the bear and can get him to a scale, which is a joke, as one would want to gut and skin it before any kind of transport. That being stated, Al LeCount our infamous state bear biologist for years had a paper published that showed a strong correlation between the circumference of a bear around its chest and its body weight (not sure if it was his own work or if he borrowed that tool from someone else). Thus, one can get a decent weight estimate if you measure the bear's chest circumference in the field with a tape before gutting and skinning it. Using "weight" as a tool, a good bear is arguably one over 250. A big bear might go 300. A great bear could be 350 plus. Anything over 400 is likely a trophy beast. I've tagged three bears and had a tape in my pack each time, but never measured a single bear due to the excitement and the rush to get it gutted and skinned.

About 20 years when I shot my first Arizona black bear, I too knew nothing about skull size or measurements, but went to get the skull "scored" as a buddy at college kept asking me to have it measured. While talking with the scorer, he was intially impressed with the skull size and after I mentioned that it was my first bear he made the comment that most hunters will go their entire hunting career without getting a bear over 18 inches. I don't know how true that is, but that was based on his own experience as an official scorer. So, if skull size is the only "criteria" to consider here, then an 18 inch skull would be an impressive skull and as stated earlier, 20 inches will make the books. I had no idea that the measurement was simply calculated by adding up the length and width of the skull (top part; not the lower jaw). It is also interesting to note that if the outer curve of the skull's eye socket is missing from being shot out (this affects the skull width measurement), for example, then the measurement can only be made to the edge of the existing bone fragment and can not be extrapolated to where the missing bone would likely have been.

Get in there and harvest that lion before it eats up all the little piggies! Call that guy out and tag him!

Sweet. Go in there and get him!

Good job on the bear. Packing it out has to about kill you to make the adventure super rewarding! Way to finish it.

Here's a few more pics from my 23N game cams. I was hoping that my cams had not been destroyed or stolen...and they were fine. Had a few non-hunters on there too, but they just looked into my bucket and nothing more.

I have no idea if elk picture number one shows a break or not. I think picture 2 and 3 are the same bull and he might have a small antler tip broken off on the right side. I know little to nothing about bull elk as I have only ever hunted cows. I thought it was a cool elk picture in photo one, as I thought the bull was sniffing the female to see if she was ready to ovulate. I can post another pic or two of that photo a few seconds later and it may reveal a broken antler piece. Another kind of funny thing was that I took my laptop into the field to check my trail cams, as half the time I can not review my pics on a hand held digital camera. Anyways, I did find two hikers at one cam and they were respectful, and I think they never even saw the cam. When I got down to my LAST picture, however, I saw three hunters in camouflage who were doing some crazy dance ---for they realized they were on a trail cam. I thought that it was a respectful thing for them to do, acting silly versus vandalizing or stealing the cam. And then it hit me like a brick thrown into my head...those three crazy guys were us checking the cams! AND we were not doing a CRAZY dance! That pic is simply how we were snapped as we were moving in on the camera! Thus, if you ever see some crazy guy on your trail cams in camouflage doing a weird dance, think twice, as that WEIRD may actually be his NORMAL! My buddy and his son went up into 23N on Thursday to bear hunt. I joined them Friday night and we checked the cams. On stand one, Saturday morning, I called in a dark, dark brown colored bear. We were on one ridge of a small bowl and he was on the other. Only about 200 yards separated us, but he was into the oaks between us before my buddy's son could get off a shot. The bear was spotted at 19 minutes into the call. After 45 minutes, father and son went into the thickets looking for him, but the bear must have picked up something in the air, as it was swirling in the bowl. Stands two through four produced nothing and the fun time ended with a Powerade.

I have milk and Cocoa Puffs in the bucket. Actually, it is just water I scooped up from the creek with some twigs and leaves. The bear was not interested in either the water nor the mineral lick. He seemed to be interested in sniffing around where my rifle and back pack had been laid. When I came back today to get my trail cams, there was about four inches of water left in each of my buckets and it was a dark brown nearly black color. I'm not sure why? Maybe the elk backwash or something and it concentrates over time? I'll throw up a few elk photos that I also got on trail cams.

I checked my trail cams today in 23N. Had some cool bulls, does, and a bear on one cam, and received this surprise on the other cam!

Nice lion and bear. Wish you had a full body bear shot of that guy!

Those three that came closest to me were very pesky and did hang around. Other foxes that stoped around the 20-50 foot range took off and never came back, but the close ones didn't need much encouragement to hang around. They would pop up in bushes or on rocks and bark and me and circle partially around me and bark again...move to another vantage point and bark some more... and after a few minutes they finally left. They must be extra hungry, extra naive, or extra prideful when they come in that close that they end up sticking around a bit longer after being tricked. Who knows for certain? I'll let you know. I'm out tomorrow after work and a half day Saturday to check trail cams. I'll blow a few stands and see what comes in. I'll take the 12 gauge along in case a cat comes a-looking!

I've had that happen to me three times. Once the fox actually made contact with my boots before running off. A second time, I hit it with the stock of my rifle. The final time I threw a stick at it when I spotted it racing towards me. I was calling for bear and was not going to waste a shot on a fox. Two out of three times, the fox hung around for several minutes and gave me the obnoxious fox bark, which may have scared other predators away or alerted them to somehting suspicious in the area. Foxes make me nervous when they are around and I fear having to receive rabies shots. Now, I always place a few nice throwing rocks next to me before I ever start to call!

Nice job on the bear! That must have been the neatest thing to see that bear UP in the oak tree. I have seen broken branches high in the oaks and in a few other tree species, but have never seen a bear feeding up in the air. Neat expereince! What unit did you tag the sow? I almost forgot to ask, but do you have any sideways photos that you can post to show more of its color pattern from that angle? In picture 1, I can see a neat black patch on the hair, but wish you had a photo showing the bear's side to better reveal that pattern.

Yup. I recognize the blonde bears frolicking now that I see them. You have a nice place. I wonder how often the bears and lions take out the cattle. Reminds me of an area in 24A where three cattle were taken down in 10 days by bear. Wish I could get out there. Are you hunting your area for bear at all?

Thanks for posting the day bear pics. Did you measure any front pad widths in the mud?

Sweet bear. Is he a chocolate color? Can you post a daylight picture of that bear?

I trapped my spotted skunk the first three times with 9-Lives catfood from a can and the 4th magical time with a half-monster taco from Jack-in-the-Box, as I had forgotten my bait that day and had to sacrifice part of my lunch!

Nice spotted skunk. I once trapped one in a live trap about 20 years ago. I caught him three days in a row and told myself that if caught him again a 4th time, then it would be his destiny to become a mount. At the time, I was busy in grad school, so I threw him in the freezer and left him there for about 8 years. Needless to say, I actually HIT the scent sack while skinning him out with a slip of the scalpel and the beast sprayed me after being frozen for 8 years!!!! Yes, he may have been dead, but he certainly got the last laugh!! I'll post a photo of him in the taxidermy section for fun in a day or two. By the way, any more pics of the black bear?

OK. My buddy dropped off a couple dozen doves that he harvested last week and I remember reading about this recipie. In particular, I drooled over the thought of bacon-wrapped dove nuggets! So, I tried it out tonight! First, I de-boned the breast meat into two nuggets, per bird. Next, I soaked them in cold water for a mere five minutes to help draw out any remianing blood from the breat meat. After that, I placed them in a Zip-Lock bag with 0.5 cups white flour, 0.5 Tbsp salt, and 0.5 Tbsp black pepper and twirled the bag for about 3 minutes to ensure a nice coating of flour and spices on all sides of the breast meat. Then, I took each coated nugget and wrapped half a slice of smoked uncooked bacon around each one and placed them in a 9 x 13 glass cooking dish lined with tin foil. Finally, I baked them in the oven at 350 degrees for 35 minutes with tin foil wrapped over the top of the dish to keep in the moisture. However, after pulling them out of the oven, I decided to place some sharp cheddar cheese slices ontop of most of them and threw them back in the oven for about 2 minutes to melt the cheese. These babies came out like miniature dove-cordon-blues, or something like that...but they are truly DELICIOUS!! I'll definitely cook another round this weekend.

Sweet pics! That bear looks kind of strange, almost sheepish? Do you have more photos of that bear? I think the light is distorting what I am seeing.

Love the bear at 4:30 pm on 9/2, very cool colors! One of those bears swiped your feeder, you can see it wobbling in the photo. What do you have in it?

This is the Story of My Second Lion. BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP!!!! My portable alarm clock shouted louder and louder into my dreaming ears. It was 4:30 am. I rolled out of my sleeping bag and felt the chill of the cold mountain air run across my body. It was still dark all around me, except for the faint glow of light provided by the stars and fading moon hanging in the night sky. I was extremely excited because I was out hunting black bear in the rugged mountains of central Arizona with my good friend Brian. The area around us was full of deep canyons and rolling hills covered with prickly pear cactus. We hoped that some monster-sized bears would come down from higher mountainous elevations and venture forth into these lower rolling foothills to feast upon the ripening purple colored fruit of this succulent cactus. I quietly dressed in my camouflage hunting clothing that I had previously washed in a special detergent to remove human scent and ultraviolet colors that otherwise could scare away wild animals and alert them to my presence in the area. If I knew anything at all about bear hunting, I knew that they had very sensitive noses that could practically smell a human from a mile away. Thus, I had to be certain not to take any chances with my scent if I hoped to meet up with a bear today. So I then proceeded to spray myself with a bottle of scent killer to further eliminate any suspicious odors that I might be producing. My hunting partner then joined me and we quietly hiked away from our campsite along a four wheel drive road we had driven on the night before. It took us up a long mountain slope that worked its way along the ridge of a steep canyon. As we neared the canyon's edge, we peeked over to take a quick look below us and spotted a small brownish furry creature scurrying away into a thicket about 20 yards beneath us. We were not sure what is was, but it left us with a feeling of excitement, perhaps foreshadowing the thrill of what hopefully was to come. We walked just a bit further before sitting down on the ridge top. We both lifted our binoculars to our eyes and began scanning the canyon below us and sides of the steep mountain just across from us, which just happened to be loaded with prickly pear cactus just begging to be devoured by black bears. After glassing these areas for about 20 minutes with no success, I decided to use my predator call to see if I could entice any predators in the area to come around for breakfast. I proceeded to blow on my call for nearly 40 minutes with no apparent luck, so Brian and I decided to hike further up the canyon and try our luck again. After hiking about another quarter-mile along the canyon's edge, we eased ourselves quietly over its edge and seated ourselves on a hillside that had been cleared of trees and brush. It was risky to call from such an unprotected located that lacked good vegetative cover, but we decided to try it anyways because it gave us a nice view of the canyon beneath us. I commenced calling and within three to four minutes, I could hear Brian whispering something to me from his position about 10 yards off to my left. Because I couldn't understand what he was saying, I turned my head to face him. I still couldn't audibly connect with him, but I saw Brian's mouth forming the words "mountain lion." My heart skipped a beat and nearly stopped dead in my chest. Mountain lion, I repeated to myself. Where? I frantically scanned the topography that lay in front of me, but I could see no sign of the prowling feline. I searched again. Nothing. Nothing but rocks and brush. Inwardly, I started to panic. Where was the big cat? Another minute passed, and then Brian again whispered, "Mountain lion." Only this time, he added the dreaded words, "Should I take the shot?" My heart sank into darkness and despair. I badly wanted to shoot the cougar, but I had no idea where it was and I could not locate it for the life of me! I sadly and slowly forced out my hesitant reply, "Sure Brian. Go ahead and take the cat." I steadied my heartbeat and faced the terrain before me to watch for any sign of impact from Brian's shot, wherever it might strike, when ---BOOM!!! His rifle roared out like thunder clashing during an intense desert monsoon storm. Almost simultaneously with the loud noise, I observed a puff of dirt erupting 200 to 300 yards away from me in front of a large cedar tree on a down-sloping ridge. I immediately raised my binoculars to my face and glassed that exact spot while the dust was settling. Nothing. I saw no dead lion on the ground, nor any wounded cat limping or crawling away. I raised my binoculars ever so slightly higher and a twitching movement caught my eye. There, sitting on its haunches under an overhanging branch of the cedar tree was beautiful brown mountain lion, which was looking straight at me and wriggling its ears! Brian's shot had been about ten feet short of its sighted mark. I quickly told Brian with an excited voice, "You were short by ten feet. Raise your rifle slightly and shoot again!" BOOM!!! Once again his shot echoed like thunder in the canyon. And once again, I saw dirt spew up into the air as his bullet fell short of its intended target by merely two feet. "Short again, I whispered to Brain. Raise your rifle up a bit more." At this point, I opened my mouth in awe due to the fact that the devil cat had not fled the scene after having two bullets strike the earth directly in front of its position. As fate would have it, however, I dropped my jaw too soon, for the predatory feline began to walk out from underneath the cedar tree and began strolling along broadside in front of it. I immediately rushed out a pitiful shriek from the varmint call which stopped the cat in its tracks, if only for a brief moment. And in that instant, time seemed to stand still, although volumes of events unfolded before me. As I stared off towards the beautiful beast, I realized that it was currently beyond my comfort range for striking its kill zone with a well-placed bullet. But at that instant, I heard my wife inside my head repeating her proverbial phrase of, "You're going to miss all of the shots you never take." Almost immediately, my conscious whispered that if Brian could take shots at that range, then I certainly could at least make an attempt at it as well. My mind raced backwards in time to our drive up the four-wheel drive mountain road the previous night when our conversation actually centered on the physics of how bullets drop in elevation as distance away from the rifle barrel increases. I knew that the 220 grain bullet in my 30.-06 would fall before it hit the cat, but I had no idea just how far it would actually drop. I quickly raised my rifle, peered through the scope, placed its crosshairs about a foot above the lion's front shoulder, held my breath, and squeezed the trigger. Boom! My rifle bellowed my rifle like a Civil War cannon. I looked up just in time to see the great cat crash to the ground beneath him. Immediately, I excitedly began to shout, "I got him! I freaking got him! I shot the lion!" "Yeah you got him alright," said Brian. "Great shot." Just then, the mountain lion popped up from off the ground and began dragging its body downhill through some brush. As it was moving through the vegetation, I could clearly see that its back legs were dangling behind its body like dead weight and were in no way functioning to help propel the cat thorough the canyon. At that moment, I thought my bullet had struck its hip bones and shattered them, however, I would later find out that my initial shot had severed its spinal cord which actually paralyzed the rear half of the lion. There was no way this feline was going to from me, so I carefully watched it disappear into the tall brush about 30 yards away from where I first dropped it and patiently waited for it to reappear on the opposite side in the shorter vegetation. After scrutinizing that area for 20 minutes with my binoculars for any movement, I decided that the great cat had finally expired and was down for good. I began hiking across the canyon towards that thicket, while Brian stayed put on the hillside to guide me to the right location using our walkie-talkies. Nearly 20 minutes later, I arrived at the base of the cedar tree where I had previously struck the cat when it began walking away. I examined the ground while moving in the direction that the feline took on its flight out of the area and picked up its blood trail on the rocky ground. I immediately contacted Brian on the walkies to let him know I had a positive trail to follow, whereupon he begged me to sit on the site and wait for him to join me before proceeding further. Waiting the 10 minutes for Brian to join me on the pursuit seemed to be the longest time span I ever had to wait for anything in my life! Eventually, though, he made it over to me and we began to follow the blood trail over the rocks and through the brush. Following the lion was easy because it left large swaths of blood painted on the vegetation every five to ten feet and its dragging hind legs were overturning rocks and breaking branches along its exit route. I tracked the cat by following its exact trail through the brush, under limbs, and into thickets. It probably wasn't the wisest thing to do in retrospect, but I wanted that cat and I was not about to lose its sign anywhere. Brian, however, stood in a clearing with his rifle and provided what little cover he could to protect me from any wounded charging beast. Needless to say, when I was slithering on my belly like a rattlesnake under an overhanging cedar limb, Brian shouted out, "I see the cat!" My heart raced with adrenaline and fear and I began to panic, for I could not even raise my own rifle to defend myself if the situation required it. I quickly screamed out, "Where! Where's the lion?" Brian replied, "About 20 yards in front of you near the base of another cedar tree!" I scrambled out of the thicket as quickly as possible and saw pointing towards a cedar tree a bit lower on the ridge I was following down into the bottom of the canyon. It was then that I spotted the great cat. There it was 50 or so feet away from me lying on its back with one massive arm reaching up and clawing its nails into an overhanging branch as it struggled to pull itself up on all fours. Without a moment of hesitation, I raised my rifle and sent another bullet whizzing through the air to find its mark just behind the raised shoulder of the feline. The lion’s body whirled over from the impact and the cat took off running again through the brush. I could hear it crashing through the vegetation for a period of about eight seconds, which was followed by a one to two second soundless period, which immediately was followed by a tremendously loud splash. I raced down the hill without thinking of my safety and discovered that the wildcat had scurried through the brush to end of a rock outcropping that jutted about 15 feet above a small intermittently flowing creek beneath it, before falling off the edge and plunging into a deep pool below. The sight beneath me was almost surreal. There on the edge of a pool of green-blue water lay the enormous yellow-brown cat, with half of its body in the water, and half of it lying on the adjacent black basalt rocks. Already, blood was leaking through its wounds and tainting the opalescent water around it a dark scarlet color. I practically slid down the rocks and approached my cat. She was absolutely beautiful. I grabbed her by the front paws and heaved her from out from pool. Brian helped me carry her a few yards away to a fallen tree where we photographed our hard-earned prize. She was indeed an amazing beast, and I was filled with unspeakable exhilaration. As a hunter who predator calls exclusively for bear and lion, I can only hope for the opportunity to repeat this adventure again...but next time, I hope it will be with a monster-sized bear!