Richard and I hunted hard that next fall, I think it was ‘83. We sold our fur before Christmas and left for Montana the day after Christmas. Richard’s brother-in-law, Dale went with us. I had my walker dog, Mack and a good young female out of him named Ivory. Richard had a black & tan named Jake and Dale had a young bluetick. None of these dogs had ever run a lion or even a bobcat before, but they had many coons knocked out to them. Jake was the kind of dog that you could sic him on a track and he would take it.
It was cold when we left Minnesota. We drove all the way out near Livingston and then stopped at some friends of Richard’s. These were horse people, Richard also raised Appaloosas’ . We spent one day hunting down towards the park. Didn’t find any lion tracks, but we saw hundreds of elk. Once, we stopped on the road as a big herd came running right at us. They split up and crossed the road on both sides of the truck. They were mostly cows and calves with a few young bulls. There was a late season elk hunt on and the big ones didn’t hang around by the roads. Later we stopped in at a check station and saw a guy with horses pull in with a huge bull he had taken.
From there we made the long drive up to Kalispell (Montana is a huge state). We stayed with Richard’s old cat hunting partner, Bob Johnson in Woods Bay on the north west end of Flathead Lake. Bob was a Minnesota native also, but when Richard headed back to Minnesota Bob stayed behind. He was a forester and worked for the US Forest Service in north west Montana.
Bob told us how he used to spend a lot of time working in the field when he was younger and he always brought a dog along. When he would cut a fresh cat track it was time for lunch break. Now that’s the kind of job I could handle! Bob showed us a Wolverine rug from one of those nasty critters he had caught with his hounds years back. He had given up hunting with hounds by the time we made this hunt (I didn’t think you could just quit like that?)
It was hard not to like that country. Nice, easy mountains covered with timber, none of that straight up and down stuff like down in the Bighorns. Over on this side of the divide the weather was much milder than we were used to. It got up in the 30’s and 40’s every day we were there. We had good fresh snow when we started, but the south slopes were starting to show through by the time we left. I can still see those valleys filled with low clouds in the mornings and the tree covered ridges rising above them.
The first morning we hunted that country we cut a good lion track right away! It was still some time before daylight so we checked some more roads, then came back at first light. We got out Richards Black & Tan and my dog, Mack and started walking that track. Our plan was to keep the dogs on a lead until they acted like they wanted to go on the track and then turn them loose.
We followed that track up close to the top of that ridge and then turned those two dogs loose. Richard’s dog started trailing right away and trailed out of hearing, up and over that ridge. About that time, Mack opened two or three times on the ground off to our left about 50 yards and then treed! I had heard that long bawl locate many times on coon and I was hearing it now. Oooooowwwwwwwwaaaaahhhh. It sounded like just another pop up coon.
About then the black dog came trailing back over to our side of the ridge and trailed right up and fell treed with Mack! We looked up that tree and saw a nice big lion. This just seemed too easy. Richard figured the cat was a female so we had no desire to shoot it. We quickly decided to go back to the truck and get the two young dogs we had left behind. Dale and I set out while Richard stayed behind with the dogs.
Going back down wasn’t any big deal but on the way back up, leading two dogs and walking up hill through the snow, Dale and I started to wear down a little. We were a couple of flatlanders and the elevation was starting to get to us.
Just as we came into the tree I saw the lion go around and around the trunk of the tree, then it jumped! I can still see that big cat flying through the air and landing in a cloud of snow like it happened yesterday. We turned all the dogs loose, it took them a minute to find where the cat had hit the ground and then the race was on. They ran that cat hard, like a deer chase for about a half mile along that ridge and treed again.
Richard was fresh from waiting on us so he set off for the tree while Dale and I followed behind. I wasn’t moving too fast anymore, I just couldn’t seem to get enough air. Dale was worse off than me. He was white as a sheet and I kept having to wait up for him. Luckily for us, we didn’t have far to go. When we got to the tree, the lion was sprawled out up there with her head and legs hanging over the branches. I knew how she felt!
We treed three more lions before we made the long trip back to Minnesota. On the way home we stopped in the middle of North Dakota for gas. When I stepped out of the truck a bitter cold, 15 below zero wind hit me. It was damn tough not to turn right around and head back west. A few years later, Richard did just that. He moved out by Livingston and never looked back.
Here's Ivory, Mack and Richard's black & tan treed on a lion. All we had for a camera was a polariod so the quality isn't the greatest.
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