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No. Not an African Lion. It was a training session for this man’s dogs. They were going to hunt Mountain Lions, Bob Cats, and Cougars.
This man, Mainard was his name, worked for the Department of Fish and Game. He wore a green uniform, a large black leather belt with a black holster that was tied with leather straps around his leg at the bottom of the holster. A large gold badge was pinned to his green shirt and his name embroidered above the right pocket.
He would trap and destroy Mountain Lions that were raiding local Turkey farms. Before he would destroy the Lions, he would use them to train a new breed of dog that his father had started breeding years ago. It was called a Mathis Hound and the dogs were being bread just to hunt lions.
This place was basically a farm. Old cars sat around the property. Old trucks and even an old tractor, all long since served their purpose and now just rusting pieces of steel for the chickens to sit in. Actually, the birds weren’t Chickens. They were Fighting Cocks. Beautiful golden feathers that stuck out long behind the bird’s butt, with reds and blues and, well, they were about the most colorful bird Steve had ever seen since he last saw a parrot. Their legs were real long and at the bottom there was a “spur” that the cock used to defend itself. Mainard bread them for Cock Fighting. Later Steve’s dad told him not to say anything to anybody about the birds because it was illegal to use them in fights.
Large piles of carrots a few feet long and piled higher than Steve’s head, were sitting out near the fence in the back of the house. Now we are not talking about just any ordinary carrot here. These carrots were grown on a secret government farm just north of the property. There wasn’t a single carrot that weighed less than a pound. Most of them were about five pounds each. Imagine that, a five-pound carrot.
This was just the average size. Some of them weighed in at over seven full pounds. These carrots were grown using human waste. As such, they were not approved for humans to eat. The law was not as strict about what you could feed to cattle, so that was what they were used for, to feed the cows. Over in the Orient, human waist had been used for years to fertilize crops. The US Government would not approve the carrot to eat because of the fear of spreading harmful chemicals and germs or something. Most of this was way over Steve’s understanding. But man, you should have seen the size of these carrots.
After eating a small carrot, Steve couldn’t finish the whole thing; everybody climbed into their trucks and drove off to the hills just a few miles to the Southeast. The landscape was typical for the region. Dry ground, very few trees, dry and dusty and a lot of large boulders. It took about two hours to drive to the location where the lion would be let go.
A large Lion was in a cage in the back of Mainard’s truck. Mainard had trapped the lion just a week earlier.
This very large cat had made quite a mess of things when it had gotten into one of the Turkey pens a few weeks ago. Guess he made quite a feast for himself. The ranchers claimed she killed about thirty birds before she was run off. Mainard had used a trap to catch the lion alive.
After arriving, Mainard explained that everyone needed to wait a while for the dust to settle from the trucks and the cat to calm down. So the thermos of coffee was pulled out and everybody stood around looking at the Lion and the landscape and engaging in idle chat.
After about thirty minutes, Mainard said it was time and told everyone to get back into the trucks while he let the lion out of the cage. Steve watched through the back window of his dad’s truck as Mainard un-snapped the flap on the black holster and pulled his gun while he knelt behind the large cage and pulled on a rope attached to the cage door. Mainard had explained that one time he wasn’t paying attention and that a cat he had just let out of the cage turned and started to attack him instead of running off. It could have been because the dogs were out of the truck and they spooked the cat, but he had to shoot it, which meant that the dogs never got the chance to learn anything.
The fact was that there weren’t as many Lions as there used to be and that was a very valuable waist of time and resource. Mainard had actually done such a good job getting rid of the Lions raiding the Turkey farms; he literally worked himself out of a job. The following year he would be assigned to a new job in a different state. So he wasn’t taking any chances after that experience.
The dogs sat inside Mainard’s truck and watched, but didn’t even whine. You could tell the dogs were all tense and ready to go. Mainard let the big cat out of the cage.
The cat didn’t slow down as she bolted out of the cage and over the lowered tailgate of the truck and started running at full speed. In seconds the Lion was over the top of the hill and gone from sight. She was so fast, had you just blinked you would have missed the whole thing. As soon as the Lion was out of sight, Mainard said it was OK to get out of the truck.
He left the dogs in the front seat of his truck. Mainard said a short wait of about thirty minutes was needed for the cat to get a good head start and that would make the dogs work harder to find it.
Everybody drank coffee and waited. Then Mainard decided it was time and let the dogs out of the truck. You should have heard the commotion.
These dogs, there were two, started barking the minute they picked up the scent of that cat just off the back of the truck. They were just barking about all of the excitement. Steve soon learned the difference between just barking and a bark that actually held a message.
Buck was the name of the old female Mainard used to train the younger pups. She was good. It was more than obvious that Mainard and Buck had a bond that could only come from countless hours of companionship. She was off in a flash, barking that she was looking for the scent.
She did not start chasing the Lion. She just ran around in large circles barking behind the truck. Then her circles got smaller. The pup Mainard was training was running around just behind her with his nose to the ground duplicating the moves and sounds of the old dog. Then Buck’s bark changed as she bolted in the same direction as the Lion, with the pup following close behind.
Steve learned that the dogs have a different kind of bark for each part of the hunt. There was a bark for “I am looking, but haven’t found the scent.” Then there was the bark for “I found the scent,” it is called “Trailed”. Then there was even a bark for “I have the Lion”. Steve learned all of this in just a matter of minutes from Mainard as they began to follow the sound of the barking dogs after Mainard pulled out a rifle from behind the back of his truck seat. He said it was “just in case. You never know what you might run into around these parts.”
The dogs were nowhere to be seen because once Buck found the strongest scent, she turned in the direction of the Lion’s escape and was gone, running at full speed with the pup trying hard to keep up.
It was a long walk to catch up to the dogs. Mainard figured a couple of hours. It was hot, and dry. The sun was now at about eleven o-clock in the sky and getting hotter. Not even a breeze to help evaporate the sweat now pouring from Steve’s forehead was present. The sounds were very distant, but you could hear the dogs barking, “Trail.” That meant they had the scent, and would have the cat soon. Steve listened to the dogs bark, now faint in the distance, and began to understand the different barking sounds.
They had been walking for about an hour in the hot sun, now directly overhead, when Steve heard a different kind of bark. Mainard explained that the cat had been “Treed.” That meant the dogs had caught up to the cat and the cat had gone up a tree. That was kind of surprising to Steve, as he hadn’t noticed anything close to a real tree, not one big enough to climb into anyway. Most of the vegetation around these mountains was just pine scrubs and bushes. Mainard said he figured maybe about just under another hour before they caught up to the dogs and they would have the Lion “treed”.
Sure enough, about forty-five minutes later, as Steve and Company came to the top of a hill, the dogs were just a few hundred yards below, barking and running around a tree. And there, up in the only tree within what seemed like miles to Steve, was the Mountain Lion up near the top of the tree, on the end of a branch. Buck and the pup were running around the tree barking “Treed”. Steve asked Mainard how the Lion managed to find the only tree around for miles. Mainard explained that the Lion grew up in this part of the mountains and probably knew where every tree was located. He also pointed out how big and fat the Lion was, obviously Turkey had been what this cat survived on and that was also its final vice.
Just below the hill, down in the valley, Steve could see a Turkey farm; large fenced pens with thousands of Turkeys. They made a lot of noise when they all gobbled at once. They looked like a school of fish because they would all move and turn in the same direction at the same time. They were under what seemed like city blocks of steel covered canopies. Mainard explained, “The Turkeys are not very smart and had to be kept out of the rain because when it rains the Turkeys look up into the sky to see where the rain was coming from and would drown.” Mainard looked over at Steve’s father and smiled with a wink as he carefully set down his rifle on a nearby boulder.
Mainard gave the command for the dogs to quite down. Instantly Buck moved back about ten feet from the tree and laid down, her head on her front legs and her eyes glued to the lion, her muscles tight. The pup ran around a while until Mainard gave him the command to quite down again. Then the pup laid down right next to Buck. Both of the dogs stared at the big cat. The pup would whine just a little. But Buck just lay there, quite, frozen, not a relaxed muscle on her body, her eyes glued to the Lion with an occasional peek at Mainard waiting for the next command.
The air became still and quite. Sweat was pouring off of Steve’s brow. The only sound you could hear were the Turkeys down in the valley below, the cat in the tree, the panting of the dogs, and the pounding of Steve’s heart. The cat was hissing, and it was barking just like a dog. Now this was the first time Steve ever heard a cat bark. This, Mainard explained, was the way Mountain Lions sounded when threatened. This cat was defiantly threatened.
There she was, this big, beautiful Mountain Lion up in the top of the tree, out on the very farthest branch she could get to. This was something not every city boy gets a chance to see. This was a beautiful cat. Strong and a beautiful coat, her head proud with a firm jaw. Her teeth pearl white and obviously sharp. Her leg mussels tight with tension from fear, and her tail was twitching nervously waving back and forth.
Mainard called Buck, “Get up there Buck!” as he pointed to the Lion in the tree. Buck lifted her head, looked straight at Mainard, barked once as if to say, “Yes sir” and ran straight for the tree. Then a very strange thing happened. She didn’t stop at the bottom of the tree like a normal dog; to Steve’s surprise she started climbing the tree. Barking the whole time. The pup was right behind, just not as sure of himself as Buck. Buck climbed from branch to branch, around the tree right up to the top. Right there, on the same branch as the cat. The pup could only get part way up the tree and then would fall down. He was trying to climb straight up, not around like Buck. He tried a couple of times, then he would run around the tree barking, occasionally stopping to try and climb again.
The big cat started barking and hissing as it backed out farther on the branch; which was now starting to bend. That made it hard for the Lion to keep steady and Buck was starting out on the branch. Buck had gone out on this limb so close to the Lion, that the Lion would hiss and swipe it’s paw through the air at Buck, a flash of white on the tips of her paws as she exposed her sharp claws. This would make her lose her balance and wobble, shaking the branch. That made both Buck and the Lion concentrate on balance. There was maybe two feet between them. “Exciting” doesn’t begin to describe the affairs of this adventure.
Mainard looked over at Steve. “Do you want the Lion’s head?”
This was not a question that required very much thought. The skull would be perfect for extra credit in Science class. Steve’s answer was excited and quick. “Can you get the cat down out of the tree without destroying the skull?”
Mainard un-snapped his holster and carefully withdrew the large polished pistol out of the black holster on his waist and put both arms together as he wrapped his hands around the pistol and took aim. “Where do you want the bullet?” He was aiming at the Lion’s head.
“Can you shoot it so the skull stays in one piece? You know, so there isn’t too much damage? Just below the head?”
Mainard lowered his pistol and looked over at Steve, right in the eyes. His answer was firm and to the point. Stern, without compromise and with a voice obviously under control, “I will not allow this animal to suffer. The quickest way is through the brain. I’ll tell you what; I’ll put the bullet through the right ear. That will break fewer bones. I need to keep the ears. I have to tag them and send them in to prove to the ranchers that the lion was destroyed.”
Buck was still in the tree, just inches away from the cat. She started to climb even further out on the branch, getting very close to the cat. If the cat hadn’t turned and started to lose its balance, as the branch got smaller and weaker toward the end, it could have actually reached Buck’s nose with its deadly sharp claws. Mainard yelled at Buck, “Down Buck!” It was almost like she knew what Mainard was going to say before he said it. It seemed to Steve that the dog followed Mainard’s commands a second before Mainard said them. With out so much as a twitch the dog stopped her approach and backed up, turned and started climbing back down the tree as Mainard again raised his arms with both hands wrapped around his pistol and took aim at the lion.
Now there just couldn’t be anything stranger to see, than a dog climbing down out of a tree, let alone climbing up a tree. Buck was walking from branch to branch circling around the tree on her way down. The big cat was starting to fall. Mainard pulled the trigger and a very loud noise left a ringing in Steve’s ears.
All of the turkeys down in the valley suddenly got quite, and Buck missed a branch and fell the rest of the way down out of the tree, not very far, maybe ten feet or so. But you can bet all the branches Buck hit on the way down left her kind of sore for a few days. You could kind of hear Buck lose air from her lungs as she hit each branch on the way down. Mainard said that if it weren’t for the branches Buck hit on the way down, that Buck would drop like a rock and get real hurt, so a few burses was better than broken bones.
The lion fell over instantly. A loud thud sounded as the body of the big cat crashed to the ground. The Lion was so far out on the branch that it missed all the branches on the way down. There wasn’t any blood and you couldn’t tell where the bullet had entered. Buck and the pup came over to the Lion and sniffed it. Their tails waging and they started barking.
Mainard told Steve the dogs need to be allowed to kind of play with the Lion as an award for a job well done. He let them smell the Lion for a little while, then Mainard gave the dogs another command and they both lay still next to each other about ten feet from the lion. Buck stared at the big cat and the pup watched Buck as Steve, Mainard and Steve’s dad all stood around and looked at the Lion.
Mainard carefully looked over his pistol, you could tell it was his favorite by the way he handled it, and then he gently put it back in the holster and snapped it shut. Mainard showed Steve where the bullet entered the cat’s ear on one side and where it went out the other ear on the other side. Steve was down right impressed with Mr. Mainard’s shooting skills.
Mainard picked up his rifle from the boulder and put it on his back with the sling over his shoulder, then he picked up the Lion and hoisted it to his back. It was a big cat and very heavy, maybe twenty-five or thirty pounds, but Mainard acted like it was nothing and started the hour and a half trip back to the trucks.
Buck didn’t move, but the pup was squirming. Buck just stayed there frozen to the ground, staring at Mainard’s back as he walked off toward the trucks; she was waiting for permission to move. The pup just squirmed and kept focused on Buck. Finally Mainard shouted out another command and both dogs jumped up with tails waging and fell in line for a few minutes; that is until Mainard noticed Buck looking at him with anticipation. She would run up ahead and then turn and come back to Mainard’s feet, with her tail waging, looking at him like she was asking for permission, never a sound out of her.
Mainard’s face began to smile; he looked Buck straight in the eyes and in a voice of submission he gently, almost silently said, “OK” and off Buck raced with the pup following behind. Mainard said “They’ll be waiting for us at the trucks.”
If Steve hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, then he would have never known that Buck was hurting from the fall out of the tree. Now Steve began to understand the bond Mainard and Buck had formed over the years.
The Lion head would now become a science project for school. He boiled the skull until all of the fur; skin and stuff inside came off. Then later take its place amongst Steve’s other trophies on the shelf like his rattlesnake rattles above his desk, next to his bed. A beautiful white skull with everything in place; not a broken bone to be seen except when you looked into the small hole on each side of the skull where each ear had been.
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