There's always majic afoot when you're with a good huntin bud and I could feel it in the air as we took off into the mountains together.
To the north side of the area I was hunting, stood a lone mountain. It was kind of an after thought as mountains go.
Fairly small as mountains go, it was oriented east/west and much longer in that direction than north/south, so it was kinda long and narrow. That meant that one face of it had a great northern exposure and was heavilly timbered, cold and dark.
The deer, elk and antelope hung out in the meadows on top of it and off the south face. It would be easy access to greenery and critters if they chose.
It was also lower elevation here, so most of the snow was long gone.
We parked Larry's jeep out of sight on the west end of the mountain and worked our way east along the crest.
Every quarter mile or so we'd find a decent looking spot and call for an hour. Nothing!
Larry was starting to have some pains in his back so he opted for returning to the Jeep and driving it around to the end of the mountain.
I'd hunt my way there and meet up with him when I'd finished.
When we split up I eased off through the timber. It was mostly Aspens right along the top with sage brush in the open areas.
The occasional lodgepole pine grew off in the clear away from the main body of the forest and all around, big boulders the size of Volkswagen bugs dotted the mountainside.
I puttered along quietly until I came to what looked like a nice place to call from.
It was just over the crest of the mountain, overlooking a natural bowl.
In wetter years I'd bet that bowl would have been boggy, but now it was dry.
At some time a heavy wind had scattered trees like bowling pins and they littered the forest floor or hung precariously from their neighbors as "widow makers".
I found a position five feet uphill from a desk size boulder. Three little pines formed a perfect background for my calling stand. I put up my Torges tree seat and settled in.
The ground broke away from me and spilled rapidly into the bowl. Off to my left front was a narrow thicket which stretched away from me to who knows where. I had a good veiw up the ridge and down the ridge and hoped that nothing would come from directly behind.
I had been cautious with the placement of all my calling stands. This was, after all, grizzly country and one needs to be on his toes when it comes to the big growlies.
The calling drug on for twenty minutes and to tell you the truth, I was getting tired of the noise.
If it weren't for the racket I was making with that call, there wouldn't have been any sound at all except the sound of the wind in the trees.
I was looking across the bowl trying to make a nice black bear materialize by will alone when a flash of movement caught my eye.
I'd just barely caught it out of the corner of my eye and couldn't identify what I thought I saw.
I had the impression that whatever I'd seen was a light brown color.
My full attention was now on the open space between the boulder in front of me and the end of the aspen thicket ten yards away.
I shifted my weight slightly as I raised my bow instinctively to a defensive position.
Without warning half of the head of a mountain lion appeared from behind the boulder in front of me.
WOW! I was mesmerised!! Maybe I should have felt a little doubt or fear at that moment, but I didn't. I do remember thinking, "wow Lamb! This is too cool!"
There was little doubt that the cat knew exactly where the call had come from. He had probably watched me for a while before making the dash across that short space of open.
He'd made it without being seen (so he thought) and was checking it out for his next move.
I can't tell you if there was any real danger to that situation or not. I can tell you that I decided to let him look right into my baby blues and a big dose of "I ain't gonna just sit here if you mess with me dude" eye contact.
The feel of my bow at the ready and the hard thin string taught on my fingertips added a measure of self assurance.
Seconds ticked away. They didn't seem like hours...no, they went by entirely to fast. I got a good look at his body as he lay there.
He was well muscled, blocky and big of head. His tail appeared to be as thick as my wrist and his eyes were calm and yellow. There was absolutely no clue to his intentions in them.
I guess he finally decided that the situation wasn't everything he'd thought it might be. Without hurry or any sense of anything except a dignified retreat, he turned fluidly and in two short bounds was out of sight.
I sat there for the longest time listening and watching and quiet frankly, grinning like an idiot.
This is the stuff that makes hunting what it is. I've been hooked on it for years.
Topic: Bears in high places.... (Read 13255 times)
