“Look. See those? That is a big tom cougar, fresh.”
My guide Brett’s eyes shone with anticipation, he lives to chase cats and bears. At 8,000 feet elevation at the end of December in Utah’s Henry Mountains, there are only two types of people you will find: lunatics and hunters, but why repeat myself?

“Want to chase this lion, or keep buffalo hunting?” Brett asked.
“Well, I can’t use my cat tag until tomorrow, 7 day waiting period you know.” I replied.
This was the culmination of 21 years of anticipation. I had finally drawn a Once in a Lifetime Henry Mountains bison permit, cow only. I remember being three years old and heading out to Antelope Island with my dad and him pointing out the bison and telling me that one day, he and I were going to hunt them. As soon as I was old enough to start applying, I was avid in my pursuit of a bison tag.
As a college student looking at going to law school next fall I had some considerations to do as I applied last spring. Do I continue trying to draw an any bison tag, and likely not get it for another 10+ years? Or, do I switch to a cow only hunt and have a 15% chance of hunting this year? I opted for the latter. Come June with the draw results my dreams were dashed. Unsuccessful on all counts. No bison, no deer, no elk, no antelope, no nothing. I consigned myself to a fall filled with bird hunting and studies. I picked up a left over muzzleloader deer tag in an area I had not ever hunted just to have an excuse to get up in the mountains. Amazingly, I filled that tag with a tasty little 2x3. Thinking I was done for the year I started getting psyched for the upcoming waterfowl season. Then, two days before my birthday in November, I received THE call.
“May I speak to Jonathon Green? Good, this is Lacie at the Utah DWR. I’m calling---“
“Is this about my deer hunt? I was very pleased---“
“No, no. I’m calling to inform you that the DWR has recently conducted a herd survey and determined to allocate additional tags for the Henry Mountains cow bison hunt. You are in the priority position, would you like to accept the tag?”
At this moment, the world stopped. I would have agreed to anything.
“Are you kidding? Jake, if this is you that is over the line! Seriously??!?!!!”
“Seriously” Lacie laughed. “Do you need to think about it?”
“NO! Somehow I’ll make this work! I will take the tag!”
After a rushing whirlwind of celebration and realizations, I concluded that between my studies at BYU and my full time job, I would be unable to get down and scout the area before the hunt. Also, being at the end of the year I would need to find horses and likely snowmobiles as well. Looking into those options I quickly realized I could spend just a hair more and hire a guide. I was quickly directed to High Top Outfitters, and a deal was struck. At 24 years old, I was going on a fair chase, wild bison hunt.
To make matters sweeter, two weeks before the hunt was to start my guide suggested that I pick up a harvest objective cougar tag in case we wrapped up early with the bison. $58 was a small investment, and hey, you only live once right? And that is what led to my brother and I looking out over the desert as sunrise stained the sandstone. This frozen, stunning country was to be our home for the next week or so.
Leaving the cougar tracks, we continued to a vantage point to glass for our hooved prey. After only 15 or so minutes, it was clear that there were none of our desired bovines. Returning to the scene of the cougar tracks, Brett quickly motioned me to look at the ground. Right on top of our tire tracks were two sets of cougar tracks.
“Looks like a big tom and a female. Prolly have a kill around here. Let’s make a run up here tomorrow morning and get you a cat!”
“Sweet” I replied, the unspoken ‘if we get a buffalo first’ ringing in my mind.
Driving back down the mountain we were treated with some of the Henry’s most prized residents. Within ½ mile we saw two beautiful 4x4 mule deer. One was a real gem, deep forks and pushing 27” wide.
“Well, we aren’t seeing much on this side, so let’s head over to Tarantula Mesa. There are a lot of deep ravines in there and the buffalo often drop down and hide in ‘em.”
After a few miles, it quickly became clear that my jeep was going to have to be left behind. Loading up into Brett’s truck I continued to scan the hillsides and washes.
“Yeah, Jay’ll be here tomorrow with horses and if we need to, we’ll head down into the Swamps. Nasty down in there, but you typically can get the job done.” I could tell that Brett was hoping to avoid this area. I guess that I must be sick in the head, but I was thrilled with the anticipation of such a daunting task.
I quickly ripped myself out of my reverie as I spied a herd of bison 700 yards to our right.
“Stop! Buffalo!”
Quickly, we hopped out of the truck dumbstruck by our luck. Dropping into a dry wash we crept closer to the unsuspecting herd. As we popped out on the ridge, we spied the bison grazing 400 yards away.
“Can you make the shot? There is a great cow on the far right, between that bull and that calf.”
As I steadied my .300 Weatherby magnum on my monopod, I tried to control my breathing. The crosshairs jumped wildly, covering the animal head to toe.
“I’m just shaking so bad! I have a serious case of buck fever going on! Can we try to get closer?” I said, realizing that this may be my only shot at filling my tag. I just knew that I would rather not kill my bison than shoot the wrong one or leave one wounded.
“Yeah, we can prolly work this draw and head them off”. The words had hardly left Brett’s mouth when he went tearing off through the brush like a jackrabbit. Two feet of snow, dead scrub, and juniper trees were no impediment to this guy!
As I scrambled after him, I made sure that my brother was filming. Easing through a few more ravines, Brett motions me to stop. There, 100 yards away the herd was filing through the juniper trees.
“Bull, cow, calf, calf, cow-no bull, bull, cow—she’s got a collar, calf. There is your cow.”
“Which one? Behind the bull in front of the rock?”
“Yeah”
Without taking further time to think I lowered my eye to the scope and squeezed the trigger. I saw it all unfold through the scope. At the shot, the herd scrambled while she buckled down. Rising back up so quickly she reared up on her hind legs and fell over backwards. After a few brief kicks, she was down for good. I had fulfilled my childhood obsession.
“Wow! That was awesome! I have never seen one just go down like that! Great job!!!” Brett exclaimed.

As we walked up on this majestic beast, this icon of the Old West, I was overcome with my luck! I had just killed a wild bison! As we neared her, I truly grasped the size of these animals. Her horns curved beautifully, with good mass and wear on them. Her hide was thick and wooly, with a long, dense mop on her forehead.
“It just doesn’t get better than that does it?” Jay asked.
“Nope, not at all!” I replied. Even now, I still am basking with a perma-grin.

After photos, caping and quartering we were elated to discover a road just down the hill 50 yards away. Now let me tell you, having packed out elk 5+miles by myself, I will take an easy pack out on a bison any day! With each quarter pushing 100 lbs, plus the rib cage slabs, tenders, heart, backstraps, and miscellaneous meat chunks we were looking at 450 lbs. Then there is the head and hide (I want a full rug) That ensemble together weighed nearly 150 lbs. But wouldn’t you know it? Between my brother and I we had it packed to the road in the time it took Brett to hike back and get the truck!
“So, now that the buffalo is out of the way, let’s get that cat in the morning!”
“Done.” Like so many say, myself included, it is better to be lucky than good!
To be continued.

Awesome! Congratulations!

Pic?

Congrats!!! Looking forward to the rest of the story!!

Congrats on the buff! Can't wait to hear the rest

Congratulations on the buffalo, fantastic account of the hunt.

Congratulations!

Just a story with out pictures!!

That was an EXCELLENT read. Yes we do need to see photos not only of your bison but scenery too.

Best of luck on the lion. Something tells me you are going to get him!

“I swear cat if you try to sneak in here one more time, you’re gonna get it!!! If I don’t kill your bigger cousin today….well, you know…” I yelled at the motel cat as it slunk out the door. This stupid thing had already snuck into the room 3 times, and I had had it!
“Ready to go Chris?” I asked.
“Yeah, just let me brush my teeth” he replied.
We loaded into Brett’s truck in the dark, our breath curling around our faces.
“Jay is gonna meet up with us at the Notom junction, he has some untried dogs he wants to get on a kill” said Brett, jumping into the cab.
Driving down the road, we reveled in anticipation, hoping to cut the tracks of those two cats again. Finally, we spot Jay’s truck waiting for us on the side of the road.
“Hurry up! Another **** houndsman just turned up the road 5 minutes ago! C’mon!” yelled Jay out the window, firing up his truck.
As we turned out onto the desert headed to the mountain, Brett floored the gas pedal. Truck roaring in the frigid night we flew around each winding bend.
“Now, I really hate driving like this through open range, holler if you spot any cows.” Jay stated, oblivious to the internal panic that this phrase instilled in my drowsy mind.
After 10 minutes we stopped by Brett’s horse trailer to pick up his hounds. Three rangy, long legged beauties that would, hopefully, be the heroes of the day. Quickly returning to the road, we finally caught up to the other houndsman’s truck. As he continued on the road, refusing to pull over, we balanced our frustration with understanding. Luckily, as we approached the final fork in the road, he went right, and we went left to the cougars we had located yesterday.
“Yeah, houndsman….they’re all ***holes!” grinned Jay, as we pulled up alongside him.
“Now, so you know what to expect. Once the dogs jump the cat, it is usually pretty quick before they tree ‘em. Maybe ½ mile or so. We should be wrapped up by early afternoon.” Said Jay. I should have known right then that something was terribly wrong.
We slowly crawled up the road, excited at the fresh layer of powder from the night before. Just as dawn broke over the desert cliffs, Brett stopped the truck. No mean feat, considering he lost his braking power the day before.
“Woohoo! Look! That is as fresh as they come! Lion!” whooped Brett.

In a moment of inner dialogue, I thought of Mr. Burns: “Smithers, release the hounds!”
Quickly, Jay and Brett collared the dogs with GPS trackers and threw them on the trail.
“Hey Brett, look at this new pup I picked up yesterday. Beauty, ain’t she?” said Jay, bringing out a 7 month old Plott hound, tiger striped black on orange.
“Gorgeous, let’s see if she’ll hunt” replied Brett, leading the unnamed pup to the trail. The rest of the pack had taken scent, lining up on the trail howling and baying. The sound of 7 hounds singing in the early morning light was a thrilling new experience.
Looking over at Brett I said, “You know, my wife’s gonna hate you right? You’re a bad influence on me! In just a day and a morning you have given me a few new vices! We haven’t even started and I’m already hooked!”
“Yeah, but you love it and you know it!” he grinned, taking off up the steep juniper slope as though it were a level track, quickly disappearing up the mountain.
“D’you know that he missed the Olympic qualifiers by less than ½ a second when he was at Utah State? He’s a heck of a track runner, just a natural athlete” admired Jay. “Here, have a donut. We’ll just wait and see what Brett finds before we hike up that *@** hill”.
Sitting on the truck bed, I quivered with anticipation thinking about the upcoming chase. I really was hoping to do this with my bow.
“Jay, do you copy?” crackled Brett on the radio.
“What’s up, Master Guymon?” quipped Jay.
“This cat has been all over this hill, the dogs are about 1 mile southwest of the ridgetop, dropping down into this canyon. Looks like a few of them are stuck on some ledges.”
“Alright, we’re headed up” replied Jay.
“K, I’m gonna go catch up with the dogs on the trail” said Brett.
Traipsing through the knee deep snow, we labored our way up to the top of the hill. Cutting Brett’s tracks, we followed across the ridge and dropped down into a canyon.
“Wow! Looks like a second lion was jumped here! The first cat is a nice one, but this one is a monster!” laughed Jay. “We’ll see what happens.”
Slipping down into a ravine, I laughingly wished for a pair of skis. As we entered the twisting, slickrock canyon, the tracks told a story of a cat, cornered by hounds and leaping up to safety. Three of the hounds made their way up and over, continuing in their pursuit. The other three were stuck. As we made our way up to an exposed outcropping of rock, Jay managed to pick up the dogs on his GPS. “Alright, they are only 400 yards away down in that canyon. You stay here, I’ll go get them unstuck.”
As Jay wound his way down the steep slope, my brother and I stopped to take in the majesty of the desert landscape. I hadn’t been down in the desert in the middle of winter before, and I was just stunned at the contrasting beauty of pink sandstone and crystalline snow.
After 45 minutes, we spotted Jay working his way back with 2 of the dogs.
“Well, looks like Wiley and Crone are stuck 300 yards away from the cat. Brett says it is ledged up on some cliffs 1.14 miles southwest of here. There is a road at the bottom of the canyon he’s in just .6 miles away. I’m gonna call back my other two dogs, then we’ll head back to the truck and get down below Brett” wheezed Jay. I did not envy him that last hike he made!
Standing on that outcropping, Jay began to howl and yell out his dogs names. “See that on the GPS? They are headed back. Only ¾ of a mile away now.”
Within minutes, we could see the dogs working their way up the mountain towards us. As we trekked back to the truck, we quickly began to peel off layers of clothing. “Crazy how a little hiking can heat you up so quickly!” I noted. It must have been 0 degrees up there. Returning to the truck just after noon, I gratefully wolfed down a few granola bars and inhaled a few water bottles. “Well, you know we didn’t have to work too hard for that buffalo, so Karma’s making us work a bit extra for this cat!” I said. Truthfully, I was loving that long chase.
As we wound our way off the mountain and around the desert buttes, we finally found the canyon with Brett and the dogs.

Coming to a quick stop, Jay found the tracks of the larger lion crossing the road apparently running like the devil himself was after him. “Dang that is a HUGE cat!” Jay was only missing drool dribbling off his chin to complete the picture of a total madman. He wasn’t missing it by much.
“You guys finally here?!! I’ve been napping long enough!” crackled Brett over the radio. “Just be sure to stick to the right side of the canyon along the ridgetop, the cat is ledged up over on the left.
“Now, all you have to do is pull the action back and then shoot, if you need to use the pistol” Jay said, handing me his 9mm. Grabbing my bow and handing the camera to my brother, we took off up the ridge.
The anticipation was building up. What if the cat jumped and got away? The dogs have had it trapped for nearly 4 hours at this point. Would there be time to catch it again? What if I miss? What if I fall off the cliff as I shoot? And a thousand other questions raced through my mind as my heart leaped to my throat.
Panting, I finally caught sight of Brett. Following the motion of his arms I looked to the cliffs. There was the cat, on the edge of a sheer drop, the kind you can only find in redrock country.
“Bowl around the ravine here, and hurry, the cat is looking to jump!” hollered Brett.
Part climbing, mostly sliding I flew around the ravine and began to skirt the edge of the cliff top over to Brett. Peeling off my coat, I didn’t want to be hindered when pulling back my bow. My heart sank as I watched the cat leap 15 feet down to a tiny ledge. Luckily, the dogs quickly followed suit. With 4 snarling hounds singing in its face, and a 50 foot drop behind him, the tom was truly trapped.
Cresting a small bump, there he was. Hissing, snarling, and spitting in my face, all I could see was its head through a gap in the rocks 10 feet away. “Brett, do you have a shot over there? I have nothing over here.” I gasped.
“Yeah, get over here quick, he’s looking to jump! Chris, you filming?” said Brett.
“Yep! I got it all! I just can’t see the cat from here.” My brother replied.
“Here, hand me the camera” whispered Brett, as he loomed over my shoulder. There, 5 feet below me, was 140 lbs of coiled steel, full of venom and hate. Miraculously calm, I drew back my bow. Placing the 10 yard pin right at the bottom of the cat’s belly, I released the arrow.
At the shot, the cat screamed, slipping off his precarious perch. At the realization of death, the cat leaped off the cliff.

“I think that was a little far back, gut shot. But the cat’s finished” exclaimed Brett.
As I sat on that tiny ledge watching the cat expire, my legs turned to jelly. In two days I had killed a bison and a cougar! Wow!
“I’ve got to grab the dogs so they don’t jump off after the cat, meet you down there”
“Ok, Brett. Looks like I’ll have to finish him with the pistol, hate to see him suffer like that.” I replied.
Half falling, half collapsing with shock, I scrambled down the snow and mud. With the dogs restrained by Brett I approached the cat for the final time. Cocking the 9mm, I put the coup de grace in him, and observed the sadness of such an incredible creature’s death. It was done.
“Yeah, I forgot to tell you that a cougar’s vitals are further forward than most game. He would have died shortly, but thanks for letting him end it quickly” whispered Brett, almost reverently.
“Yeah, I was meaning to ask about that, but I forgot in the rush of the moment, sorry.” I replied.
“Congratulations, that is definitely a tom. And a great cat at that! He won’t make the book, but he’ll miss it by a hair only. Prolly weighs 130-140 lbs.”
“I don’t care about that, he is just a gorgeous animal!” Nothing was going to get me down, I was floating on air.
As we took countless photos, I admired the courage of the cougar’s final leap. From the bottom looking up, my nerve turned liquid as I realized what I had just done.
As we gathered up the dogs, and loaded up the cat we made our way down the canyon. Meeting Jay back at the truck we all just basked in the moment. Right then, the other houndsman came down the road. After quick congratulations, we found out that he had been trying to chase a cat out here for a week without luck. We commiserated with him as the sun died over the foreboding cliffs of the Henry Mountains.
Back at the motel, we packed everything up onto my jeep. Spying the invasive feline slinking past my tires, I grinned wickedly. “Alright, the governor issued you a pardon, for now!”
Driving home in the middle of the night, it was all I could manage to thank the lovely Lady Luck. 2 days, two incredible animals, and a lifetime of remembrances.

No worries, I'm getting the pics all uploaded now and will have pics and videos(both kills) and tons of scenery too! Just give me a bit, I only got home at midnight and the cat hunt was yesterday...so it is about as fresh as it gets!

Wow! Incredible story and you truly have a gift with the pen! Most excellent! Thank you for sharing that!

Well, here is the lazy access to all my photos if you have a facebook.
https://www.facebook.com/media...674.638400728&type=3
and I am still working on videos/putting photos here directly.

Well....I am slowly putting the videos on youtube, and facebook won't just let me put this image here....so I will be a few more days in getting photos here.

Great hunt report! I looked through your photos and most of them were great, but the ones of you riding the dead buffalo were tasteless and probably offensive to some people. That said, they made me LMAO!


I would love to know what your serious looking guide was thinking while you were snapping those photos.

Lol JBrown, as we took those I said, "well, these are probably a bit disrespectful, but hey, I think it will be funny!" I stopped worrying about what everyone else would think a long time ago! As for that guide, Brett Guymon of Hightop Outfitters is hilarious! Not a stiff uptight dude at all....just looks that way in those pics. You should see the cat he shot yesterday with his tag....holy smokes that dude knows how to run cats!

Good job justanotherhunter! Congrats. Well told!1

here's a facebook link to the cougar shot video. There are a few more minutes of us skirting around the cliffs before this, but they are taking forever to load!
https://www.facebook.com/photo...5450729¬if_t=like
and here's the bison videos:
https://www.facebook.com/photo...?v=10151377711280729