A Chance Encounter with Charismatic Megafauna.
After a week of hiking, camping and driving in some of the most glorious mountains God ever created. The sacred mountains that are home to the bear, elk and more. The mountains that Theodore Roosevelt and Horace Albright fought so hard to protect. Places where I faced 90 degree days, 30 degree evenings, rain, lightning, snow, hail, and gale force winds, I was finally on my way home when I stopped for one last hike in Bighorn National Forest, an unknown park smack dab in the middle of northern Wyoming. An area in which I would have my first but not my last encounter with a big cat. There I was, in the middle of nowhere, not a soul in sight, no cell signal and a good 30 minutes away from my vehicle and I am staring down a Mountain Lion only 20 or so yards away from me. Had I bitten off more than I could chew? Fortunately for me, no.
Two hours after leaving Cody, Wyoming, a small city just east of Yellowstone National Park, I arrived at Bighorn National Forest. Bighorn National Forest is comparable to Yellowstone, with majestic views, an assortment of wildlife, dense forests, prairies, the great outdoors. Aside from the geothermal activity and abundance of annoying and inexperienced tourists, it's basically the same park. The best part was, I saw not one person on this trip. While I was in Cody, Wyoming, I grabbed some grub, some whiskey, and I purchased a “Transplants Permit.” These are permits that you obtain from the Park Rangers office to legally collect yamadori, a Japanese term for collected wild trees used for bonsai. I drove down Sourdough Rd. the road a nice man I met a few days ago told me about.
A few days earlier when I arrived at Bighorn on my way to Yellowstone, I stopped at a turn off to take in the majestic view. While I sat in awe of the snow capped mountain view and the lone Pronghorn Antelope, a gentleman had come up to me and told me, if I wanted to see more wildlife, that I should stop off at this side road, drive until it ends, and go hike out there. On my way back home, I decided to stop there and take this guy up on his recommendation. After I found a trailhead, I parked and prepared my hiking gear, bonsai collecting gear, bear spray, and side arm. It was time to hit the trails and see some wildlife and search for some bonsai. When I go hiking alone in the backcountry, I look as though I am prepared for battle. Preparing myself also feels like I am gearing up to kick in doors with a special operators team. If “Tacticool” and Larping had a child, I would be the poster child.
When gearing up, I have a routine to ensure that I have everything I need. The first thing I put on is my Combat Belt where I have all of my survival gear attached so I can grab anything at a moment's notice. On my right side, I have my Safariland holster that is fitted for my Springfield Armory XD9. I chose this holster based on the recommendation of Mike Glover, former Green Beret and owner and operator of Fieldcraft Survival, and John Lovell, former door kicker of the Army Rangers and founder of Warrior Poet Society. Aside from fitting my pistol like a glove, this holster has a thumb release so if I fall, get into a fight, or by chance am attacked by a large animal, the pistol will not come out unless I engage the thumb release. To the left of my front center is my fixed blade knife that I can grab with either hand. To the left of that is my bear spray in its holster that is securely attached to my belt. Then the last two things I have on my belt are my bear bell and my trauma kit. When hiking, I keep two trauma kits on me. I have one in my 6 o’clock position on my belt so anyone can access it. The other, I keep in the top pouch of my Backpack/Rucksack so again, anyone has easy access to it. If you're unconscious and you're lucky to have a fellow outdoorsman stumble upon you, you want them to have easy access to your medical equipment.
People often ask me why I carry bear spray and a sidearm while hiking. As any experienced outdoorsman will tell you, bear spray is not full proof and the sidearm is a last ditch effort for defense. Say a Brown Bear or Mountain Lion is charging at you and the wind is blowing left to right, the spray may not work or may not be as effective.. Or say you're down wind of the bear, the wind blowing at your face, the spray could not make it to the bear, or worst case scenario, you end up spraying yourself. Then there's the scenario of you spraying the bear and it does nothing but anger the bear. When it comes to sidearms and bears or large game, there is a heated debate on what works to stop them. Clay Newcomb from Meateater and the podcast Bear Grease, did a great video on bear defense and what caliber and type of rounds work best for defense on bears and other large game. Again, this is a highly debated issue, however, the more rounds you can get off accurately, the better. Do not, I repeat do not use hollow points. The bullet may have to travel up 6 inches to get to vital organs. The bullet will have to pass through a thick hide, layers of fat, dense muscle and dense bones. A hollow point round will expand on impact, doing little to no damage to the threatening animal. One tip I can say is, low recoil, high velocity, repeated consistent rounds and accuracy, all while the adrenaline is pumping. With that advice, you can figure out what caliber works best for you.
When I am hiking, I always have my backpack with me, especially if I am hunting for trees to collect. Aside from my spare trauma kit, I bring my Camel Pack. Hiking and digging up trees can be an exhausting process and you must stay hydrated. I also always make sure to bring my compass. You never know when you'll need to find your way back and you can't always rely on your cell phone or Garmin device. Technology is known to be faulty and unreliable at the most desperate of times. The last two items I had on my pack were my Root Slayer shovel and hand saw for collecting trees. My final piece and one of the most important pieces of gear is my headlamp. With all my gear set, it was time to start my hike. I knew I had to make it a quick hike since daylight was fading and I did not want to get lost in the woods in the middle of nowhere. An area I was completely unfamiliar with and an area that nobody knew I was in. Plus, night comes quickly in the mountains.
After about a 45 minute hike, I found a nice tree. Yamadori hunting is similar to foraging for mushrooms or wild food. You have to keep your eyes open for the signs of potential winners. You also have to keep your eyes and ears open for the predatory eyes of Mountain Lions and Bears, oh my. It took me a few minutes to dig the tree up and prepare it for the next few days of traveling until I got home. I was happy I found a nice tree and was soon to be on my way back home. Back to my warm bed and a nice hot shower, and of course, my lovely dog.
On my hike back to my vehicle, I had a funny feeling come over me. Have you ever had that feeling as someone was staring at you, or checking you out and you turn around and they look away? A strange primal intuition we have. A sixth sense, and no, not the “I see dead people” kind. More of a survival intuition developed over centuries, millenia of surviving in the wild under threat of death. Well, I had that primal intuition on my hike back. Now mind you, I was on the north side of a mountain, in a steep valley, where the Engelmann Spruce trees and the jagged ridges of the snow capped mountains were blocking out what little light was left in the day. As I started scanning the dark and dense forest, to my right about 20 yards or so, up the side of the mountain, I saw a tan color that didn't fit into the landscape. This tan color was slowly moving alongside my flank, slowly but surely encroaching on me. I immediately placed my right hand on my side arm, quickly turned on my headlamp with my left hand, and placed my left hand on my bear spray. I knew exactly what I was looking at. More importantly, what was looking at me, a Mountain Lion.
Instantly, my heart rate skyrocketed. Even though my heart was racing and my adrenaline was pumping, I was calm. I had been mentally and physically preparing for this type of situation for years now. I had been doing dry fire drills at home for months, as should any responsible gun owner. I had been researching what to do when one encounters an aggressive animal. It's important to understand an animal's body language, how to tell if they're bluff charging or charging for real. But no research or training could prepare me for this moment. My senses were heightened to a level I had never had before. The greens of the forest were greener. The smell of spruce trees overwhelmed me. I could hear every branch snap under my feet. I had entered survival mode. This is what my ancestors, the pioneers of America, and countless other outdoorsmen had experienced.
I imagine the Mountain Lion had been watching me around the time I collected the tree. I had been stopping and scanning the woods for my entire hike and had not noticed anything until I was on my way back. I assume the Mountain Lion had either heard me or smelled my sweat and god awful body odor from the sweat, fried chicken and whiskey I had in Cody, Wyoming. I found it to be far too dangerous to walk backwards to keep my eye on the lion for I may trip, fall and injure myself. Then I would be easy picking for this apex predator that looked to weigh more than me, and I weigh 170lbs. With forearms the size of my thighs, this would not be a fight I would likely win. I would periodically stop, scan the woods and look for the lion. I thought about hitting trees with my shovel to make noise, but that would tie up my hands. I also thought about making loud noises, but the Mountain Lion was not doing anything aggressive and clearly, it knew I was there. So that would just be a waste of energy. I had another 30 minutes or so until I reached safety, but those 30 minutes felt like hours. The Mountain Lion had followed me the entire time. All the way back to my truck.
By the time I got back to my vehicle, I was exhausted. Aside from my hike to and from, collecting the tree, my adrenaline pumping, I was just tired from my entire trip. After I packed everything up, I did what any sane man would do. I took a nice big swig of my whiskey and reflected on that experience. I figured the Mountain Lion was curious about me. Picture this. Me, backpack, red shovel attached on one side of my pack, and a small tree attached to my pack. He was probably confused. Or, he was hungry and waiting for the right opportunity to strike but never saw one. Either way, I was fortunate.
Before I pushed off for the evening, I broke out my flashlight and scanned the woods. By this time, anything under the dense canopy of the trees was covered in darkness. The weather had changed to an overcast early evening. As I scanned the woods with my flashlight, I saw a pair of eyes, with that creepy reflecting thing they do, staring right back at me. The reflection in from the eyes is the Tapetum Lucidum, a lens under the animal's pupil. Ever so creepy in the evening. The Mountain Lion had stayed with me until I had driven off. What piqued his interest in me? I do know that only 16 people have been killed by Mountain Lions in America in the last 100 years. But I didn't want to be number 17. Now for the long drive back to my favorite rest stop.
While I was happy to be at my favorite rest stop, alive and well with a nice bottle of whiskey and the quiet sounds of western Wyoming, I had to reflect on this rare encounter. Little did I know that this would not be my last encounter with a Mountain Lion. Almost a year later, to the day, I would spend the evening in Wyoming's Red Desert with coyotes and of course, a Mountain Lion. Sightings of these incredibly elusive animals are rare and I am beginning to think that I am Mountain Lion bate. I had to ask myself the next morning as I hiked up the Oregon Butte in the Red Desert, “Is this how I am going to go out? If so, it would be an honorable way to go out, as opposed to something lame, like falling down a hill or falling asleep on the road. At my funeral, my friends would say, “It was a good death.” As they share a drink in my honor, and in the honor of the big cat that I would take out before I succumbed to my wounds.
