Cougar Hunt

This afternoon I joined the Barber Adventure Team to hunt for sign of wild beasts. It was my fault. About a week ago I was leaving for work. It was very early in the morning and I heard a woman screaming from the woods nearby. It was a chilling cry. A howl of anguish. If I had a shred of decency I would have dashed into the woods in her defense. Thankfully, well … let’s just say I was on time for work.

I consulted my wildlife experts at Cherry Ghost Coffee House. Dan Maley has raised his sons to recognize all types of wildlife. They are phenomenal with birds and birding, but just as eager to share their gory store of knowledge regarding local big cats—and I’m not talking about Garfield here. Dan pulled up recordings of bobcats and cougars from the Internet. If those recordings are accurate, this was not a bobcat.

The Barber Adventure Team is a father and his two sons. Tony, the patriarch of this clan, is a professional gambler. Each year he wagers much of his accumulated wealth on the weather and on the capacity of investment he buries in the ground to double, triple or better. Chancy stuff. And not for the faint-hearted. Tony has been doing it for a number of years now. He’s just that good.

His sons, Ward and Wyatt, engaged a driver and met me at the farmhouse where I live. They are thrifty lads. The driver was also our bush guide for the day. He was also their father. They kept pace with us as we climbed the gate, crossed various strands of electrical fence, and entered the wooded area that I thought the screams had come from.

The Barber boys are pretty cagey too. Tony and I were there as Brave and Intrepid Thrill-seekers. If you’re heading into the woods with Ward and Wyatt, I suggest you consider the acronym created by your role in The Adventure. I’m writing this, so we can presume it all came out well. Still, …

I live in a farmhouse surrounded by a working farm. To get to our destination, which was really clear only to our guide, we did the gate hop, the hot wire straddle, and the cow pie skip. All that and we’d barely begun. Under the interested scrutiny of several ruminants, we continued down the hill. We crossed a bit of swampy land and I learned that Tony and I were of even greater utility. We were biped pontoons for the junior Barbers. We safely traversed the saturated sward, walked around the upper pasture, then crossed a wooded area into a cornfield.

Out in the open, we struck paydirt. We had trackage! It wasn’t cougar tracks. In fact, I don’t think the split hoof track was even a cat, but I’m kind of new to all this. We saw what we thought to be raccoon tracks, possibly coyote tracks, definitely deer tracks, and maybe bobcat tracks. We were onto something.

I may not have mentioned it, but for all their daring the junior Barbers have not yet reached their majority. They are up for quite a few adventures and have had them. They are also occasionally distractible. That’s why Wyatt began amassing a collection of corn cobs as we were roughly a quarter of the way through our quest. This not something you’d expect of your run-of-the-mill adventurer, but you should know that these two are not of that ilk. For instance, despite all their accomplishments they have not yet entered first grade. You can see that many great things lie ahead of them. After the quest.

Meanwhile, back in the cornfield, Tony and I (but mostly Tony) tracked our something—because we had yet to identify it—working its way along the edge of the woods. We found clear tracks and stopped to study them. If only we’d had more to go on. My Maley contributors told me that bobcats sometimes pull the bones of their kills up into a tree. I didn’t see that anywhere. Tony told me that big cats can hunt in a 50-mile radius, so what I had heard may have only been passing through. Then again, it may have been watching us. I wonder if cats snicker?

When we felt we had reached the halfway point of our companions we turned from the cornfield and reentered the woods. At the bottom of the hill we entered a creek bed where we found many more tracks and much easier going.

Okay, this next one is not a track, but it's pretty, right?

Yawn. More tracks. Tracks, tracks, tracks and not a voracious cat to be found.

When you and I see a creek we see water running downhill. When animals see a creek they see an interstate highway. Along this highway you can wash your feet and your food. You may even find your food. But be aware that the guy tailgating you on this highway does not want to pass you until he has first consumed you. It’s really kind of scary if you’re small and furry, I suppose.

Overhead sign along the highway

Tony stayed in the creek while the lads and I took to the higher ground. Here I learned two things. First, some young boys are still grappling with the concept of what happens when you bend a branch forward as you pass, then let it go. I’m going to work on that with them in future adventures. Second, although it is said of some things, “you can’t beat it with a stick,” Ward isn’t buying it. Sticks are abundant. The wood is full of them. And nothing is immune to their swishing passage through the air or their full, glorious contact. He’s a warrior, that one is. Soon we found our way back to the creek.

I imagine if you’re rather shorter than the Brave and Intrepid Thrill-seekers you’ve brought with you on The Adventure, and the stream is a little deeper than it seemed, that can be disconcerting. You’ll need to ask Wyatt. His tall boots didn’t reach as high as the ones Tony and I were wearing. He only complained a little. Later, he tried to bring down an entire tree with a vine. If we hadn't called him to catch up to us he'd probably have done it, too.

We reached a point where Tony took the boys onto high ground and encouraged me to explore for tracks. I found a few and a couple were large enough to make me wonder what their maker looked like. I have included a gift card for scale and so you can congratulate me on my bravery the next time we meet. Don't think I'll forget.

 

After a bit of meandering, we reached our exit point. We passed through some brambles nearly unscathed. We’ll work some on that too. As we reentered the pasture we came upon some wetlands and Wyatt crossed completely unassisted. These guys learn quickly.

As we approached the barn where we’d begun, Yellow, our timeshare canine, met us at the gate waving his fluffy tail in salute. We safely negotiated the electric fence and the gate, declared this adventure officially and successfully completed, and I bid my companions goodbye. I can hardly wait for our next Adventure!