One snow-covered, moonlit night, I hiked up an old logging road. The snow was knee high and crunchy. The kind that supports your weight for a millisecond before you drop through. I hiked about two miles then turned around and began hooting for spotted owls. Not more than ten minutes after I began hooting, I heard something crunching below me in the woods. I stopped, thinking my ears were playing tricks on me. The crunching continued then stopped. I took a couple steps. The crunching followed.
Adrenaline shot through me as my brain ran through the things it could and could not be. Not a bear. They were still hibernating. Not a wolf. They weren’t in the area. Not a deer or elk. They would run away and sound very different in the snow. It had to be big enough to break through the crust. So what could it be?
Cougar.
Not optimal considering I was almost two miles from my truck. I had heard many stories of cougars escorting people out of their territories—I’d also heard stories of cougars attacking people—the cougars simply wanted to see what the people were up to and followed them until the people left their territory. I also knew I couldn’t outrun a cougar…even if I wasn’t knee-high in snow. So I really hoped this was a curious cat, not a hungry one.
I hiked slowly and deliberately, crunching as loud as I could. I put my hands in the air to make myself look as big as I could. Fortunately, I had a backpack on, which helped me look bigger. The cat followed me for a mile or more then left. When I finally made it to the truck, I radioed my partner and told him I was done early because I had a cougar stalking me.
“Perfect,” he said. “Now, get over here and pick me up. I’ve been throwing rocks at a cougar for the past thirty minutes.”
