but I took her picture and counted coup (kinda).
Here in IL we are down to the wire. Only 10 days of season left and I need one more deer for the freezer. I am also trying to perform my own exorcist on a season full of trainwrecks for me...a treestand accident, a bad miss at a big 'un, and too much work/not enough hunting. Not wining here as I am lucky to be alive, lucky to get a chance at a booner (mmmmissed him), and lucky to be workin' in this economy. But still I am out there trying to loose an arra, and tryin' to put this season to bed the right way.
So I hung a new stand and had some deer nearly to me when I hear something crunching in the leaves. It's too light to be a deer and I make out 3 small shapes just ahead. A momma bobcat and two near-grown tawny furballs. Momma has the typical spots and never-still buggywhip of a tail and the babies are walking hushpuppies after they have been shot in
It gets interesting when the little ones cross to my side of the creek first and momma spots me in my Lone Wolf about 15 feet off the ground. She spits and the kits scurry up the small oak right next to me. I have two crying kits a bow length away, and a VERY pissy momma cat at the base of my tree. She is growling and spitting, the kits are crying and I am sitting there with my mouth open. She finally has enough and starts up the tree after me. I talk to her in a half-panicked voice that is somewhere near puberty and an 8 year-old-girl's pitch, but with words that only a sailor would use. That is enough to send her back over the creek. She paces, growling and spitting with that long black streak of hair on her back standing at attention. I managed to hold my nocked Osprey with one hand and my camera with the other and managed to get a few pics of her before the kits bailed and they all took off like scalded cats.
Perhaps it was my language, perhaps it was the ultimate predator look up in the tree (Osprey longbow at the ready, Kuiu-donned frame, war-paint on, ready to kill) or perhaps it was the high-pitched scream-squeal from all of the above. Anyway she left me, took her kits and skinned out. I have been around these cats all my life and never have had one try and get me. It is funny now but let me tell you, there was nothing I could have done if she wanted to chew on me for messin' with her babies. It is not legal here to shoot them, and I doubt if I would with those little ones so near. I most likely would have taken my arse whoopin' like the man that I am