Cough, wheeze, gasp. I`d been fighting this cold for three weeks, and had just settled down on the couch for the evening, feeling sorry for myself, when the phone rang. Considering it was early January, hunting was the last thing on my mind, so I was surprised to hear from a local booking agent, Troy Ginn of International Outdoor Consultants. He was just checking to see if I`d given any thought to my 2005 slate of hunts, which of course I hadn`t. But for some reason, I had a few weeks of free time, and when he mentioned an available mountain lion hunt up north in British Columbia, I perked up. With perfect snow conditions and a sudden opening with the outfitter, I made a rather hasty decision, and was soon busy packing up for an impromptu 6-hour drive up to southern BC. I had seen photos of cats taken with Steve and Harry Leuenberger, outside of Cranbrook, BC, and they looked pretty nice.

Two days later I arrived at the Leuenberger`s beautiful home in Wardner, and Harry and his wife Jill made me feel right at home. It was fairly chilly out, and the snow looked promising for tracking. Harry`s son Matt was scheduled to take me out the next morning, and I pawed through all the gear I`d brought, preparing for an early departure. Matt had done some scouting that day, found some fresh cat tracks along the road, and he was optimistic for our chances.

Matt arrived at 5:30 am, and we drove off to pick up two of his hunting buddies, Ryan and Jake. Accompanied by heavy metal music to wake everyone up, we headed out to the provincial forest area that Steve and Harry hunted. The headlights made looking for tracks easier, and we stopped often for Jake to jump out and check the freshness and size of any promising sign. We saw lots of wolf tracks, along with bobcat, lynx, moose, elk, and deer. As daylight crept in, I was quite concerned about the sheer size and steepness of the surrounding mountains. The boys had delighted in relating stories of "hikes from hell", following the dogs over hill and dale for hours, and considering the way I was hacking and coughing, that was an experience I was hoping to avoid on this trip. We checked many tracks throughout the morning, and occasionally the red bone and black and tan hounds, in a box on the back of the truck, would let out a mournful howl, hoping to be released to chase a cat.

We returned to an area where we`d found a fairly fresh track mid-morning, and after some discussion, the boys got the three dogs out, and they eagerly climbed the mountain, giving voice. I had never experienced a hound hunt, and it was pretty cool, listening to the tolling of the dogs as they sorted out the cat`s path. They were silent for several minutes, obviously a bit perplexed, and Jake set off to see where they`d lost the trail. But suddenly, only 300 yards above us, they started the short, choppy barks that indicate they had treed a cat. I was amazed, and incredibly relieved, since they were so close to the road.

It was still a hard climb, very steep, and the crystalline powdery snow made for zero traction on the hillside. I panted and pulled myself up to a huge pine, where I could make out the cougar`s tail hanging through the branches. The dogs had already been tied up, and once I`d gotten my breath back, I took a few photos of the seemingly languid tom, watching all the commotion sixty feet below him.

The boys got me into position, had a video camera ready, and handed me a borrowed .243, ready to go. There was a wee bit of consternation when I squeezed the trigger, only to hear a loud click...wrong caliber of ammo. After unloading the .22-250 shell that had gotten mixed in with the .243 bullets, I regrouped, and at the shot, the tom made a spectacular leap out of the tree, landing way below us and slinking off, soon floundering and toppling over 100 yards below us. The dogs went ballistic, of course, but the guys managed to control them so that we could make our way down to the cat and take some nice photos

Being that this was my 42nd birthday, I was pretty happy with the way things worked out! The cougar weighed 120 pounds, a very nice tom, and as an extra bonus, Jake handed me the skull of the cat`s most recent kill, an eight-point whitetail buck which he`d found while following the trail. A year ago, on this day, I`d been in the Central African Republic, shooting a cape buffalo; quite a contrast!

I can`t lie...I did find it a bit sobering to hunt this cat, to briefly track such an elusive predator. But what a privilege to have the opportunity to finally see a puma in the flesh. I think I`m more of an ungulate/antler and horn hunter in the end. Nevertheless, I can`t wait to get my cat mounted, and I`m sure this experience will inspire a nice painting in the future. I hope to return to this area, perhaps to chase other cats...the boys shot three bobcats on the next day!