Mountain lions? Oh yeah,up until a few years ago we were loaded with them around here in the Adirondacks.
We finally solved the problem by laying out a great big trail of little friskies over to Pennsylvania.
Unfortunately, my own encounter with a mountain lion didnt turn out very well.
During the winter of '93 the snowfall was so great up here that travel was impossible.
Things got pretty tough as groceries began to run out and the children had less and less each day to eat.
I was finally forced to take matters into my own hands and decided that I might be forgiven under the circumstances if I did a little extracurricular hunting.
I headed out one morning during blizzard conditions but I had confidence in my skills as a hunter and a woodsman.
I soon found the fresh track of a deer and followed it hoping for a shot.
Up the mountain, through a gap, and onward I went.
Late that afternoon I finally caught site of a magnificent ten point buck and worked my way up a ridge to where I could make a sucessful shot.
It actually took two shots to bring him down, and by the time I finished field dressing him it was pitch dark and the snow had filled my tracks.
I circled the mountaintop looking for any indicator of the way I had come and that's when I found the tracks that showed I wasnt the only hunter on the mountain that night.
What I found as I came upon my own tracks were the tracks of a huge mountain lion who had undoubtedly smelled fresh venison and planned to relieve me of my kill.
On the theory that heading in any direction was better than just running in circles, I chose what seemed like a good route and began making my way down the mountain and hopefully away from the lion.
I came to the head of a steep ravine and thought to use it to my advantage.
I put the deer on the edge of the ravine, climbed aboard, grabbed the antlers, and started to luge my way down the mountainside.
What I didnt realize was just how determined a hungry mountain lion can be, and when I looked back up the mountain there was the surefooted lion sliding along after me like one of Austrias best alpine olympic skiers.
I took my first shot at him at a hundred yards but my wild ride caused me to miss him clean.
The same thing happened on my seventy five yard second shot.
My third shot at just fifty yards was closer to the mark but only managed to graze him along his flank.
Now if there's one thing we all know is more dangerous than a hungry mountain lion, it's has to be a hungry, angry, wounded, mountain lion, and this one was no exception to the rule.
I was out of cartridges and knew that my only chance was to stay on that sliding sledding buck and to hope to lose my crafty pursuer.
Down the mountain I went, on my makeshift sled, using a combination of antlers and pure body english to avoid boulders and trees, but the lion kept on gaining.
Finally, I shot out over a precipice and I knew that the game was soon to come to an end.
As I tumbled through sixty feet of nothing but air, I lost my gun, my knife, and the deer, and I wound up in deep snow, unable to move, at the base of the cliff, and that's when that big hungry old mountain lion jumped down and killed me.
And that's my story, and I'm stickin' to it! /ubbthreads/images/graemlins/smile.gif
We finally solved the problem by laying out a great big trail of little friskies over to Pennsylvania.
Unfortunately, my own encounter with a mountain lion didnt turn out very well.
During the winter of '93 the snowfall was so great up here that travel was impossible.
Things got pretty tough as groceries began to run out and the children had less and less each day to eat.
I was finally forced to take matters into my own hands and decided that I might be forgiven under the circumstances if I did a little extracurricular hunting.
I headed out one morning during blizzard conditions but I had confidence in my skills as a hunter and a woodsman.
I soon found the fresh track of a deer and followed it hoping for a shot.
Up the mountain, through a gap, and onward I went.
Late that afternoon I finally caught site of a magnificent ten point buck and worked my way up a ridge to where I could make a sucessful shot.
It actually took two shots to bring him down, and by the time I finished field dressing him it was pitch dark and the snow had filled my tracks.
I circled the mountaintop looking for any indicator of the way I had come and that's when I found the tracks that showed I wasnt the only hunter on the mountain that night.
What I found as I came upon my own tracks were the tracks of a huge mountain lion who had undoubtedly smelled fresh venison and planned to relieve me of my kill.
On the theory that heading in any direction was better than just running in circles, I chose what seemed like a good route and began making my way down the mountain and hopefully away from the lion.
I came to the head of a steep ravine and thought to use it to my advantage.
I put the deer on the edge of the ravine, climbed aboard, grabbed the antlers, and started to luge my way down the mountainside.
What I didnt realize was just how determined a hungry mountain lion can be, and when I looked back up the mountain there was the surefooted lion sliding along after me like one of Austrias best alpine olympic skiers.
I took my first shot at him at a hundred yards but my wild ride caused me to miss him clean.
The same thing happened on my seventy five yard second shot.
My third shot at just fifty yards was closer to the mark but only managed to graze him along his flank.
Now if there's one thing we all know is more dangerous than a hungry mountain lion, it's has to be a hungry, angry, wounded, mountain lion, and this one was no exception to the rule.
I was out of cartridges and knew that my only chance was to stay on that sliding sledding buck and to hope to lose my crafty pursuer.
Down the mountain I went, on my makeshift sled, using a combination of antlers and pure body english to avoid boulders and trees, but the lion kept on gaining.
Finally, I shot out over a precipice and I knew that the game was soon to come to an end.
As I tumbled through sixty feet of nothing but air, I lost my gun, my knife, and the deer, and I wound up in deep snow, unable to move, at the base of the cliff, and that's when that big hungry old mountain lion jumped down and killed me.
And that's my story, and I'm stickin' to it! /ubbthreads/images/graemlins/smile.gif