S
snowstormhunting
Guest
This hunt took place during December 2009 bobcat season. I checked the weather channel like I do every day during the winter to help plan my hunts. The weather channel was calling for a good storm to hit the Sierra?s and dump snow down to the valley floor. The valley floor being approximately 4200 feet in elevation. I looked out at the Sierra?s to the huge black clouds that promised a storm was coming. I called my hunting partner who happens to be my brother and told him to get up here it's going to snow tonight. My brother told me he couldn't make it until Wednesday, because of work, and it was Sunday night when we talked. I told him to get up here as soon as possible because this desert will be white by morning. My brother said,? I'm going to leave my house straight from work Tuesday night?. ?I'm just going to swing by the house to load my dogs?. I said,? OK but I'm hitting the woods as soon as this storm lets up?.
The next morning I woke up and looked out the window to an all white desert. There were two problems, it was still snowing lightly and the wind was blowing and my in-laws were out from Arkansas visiting. I told my father in law if this wind calms down later I'm taking my dogs out to try and tree a cat. He said, ?What ?! You must be nuts! You?re going out in this storm by yourself! The outside temperature had risen to the single digits. I said, ?yes I have to be nuts to go outside in this weather?. When this storm breaks some I'm hitting the desert trails. I said to him,? you know I always hunt by myself anyhow?. I got my gear ready to roll so I could leave quickly when the storm let up. I went out and loaded, and collared my dogs and started my truck up. It was almost 1100 and I couldn't take it anymore. I said to everyone, ?if I aint back in a day or two come looking for me because I'm going hunting?. The storm stopped and the wind was still blowing but oh well my dogs and I have weathered worse. I couldn't take the cabin fever any longer. It was so cold that I had trouble starting my truck back up even after I had already warmed it earlier. I guess I should expect that when I hunt in an old beater like mine. It gets me in the woods and I will take it anywhere it can fit. My dog box matches the rig (ugly).
I hit the road thinking to myself, man my father in law is right, I must be nuts! What in the heck am I doing out here in this rural desert, in a snowstorm all by myself in sub zero conditions. All this just to hear some dogs bark and hopefully see a cat in a tree. If it's in your blood, you are hooked and I'm 4th generation hound hunter so I'm an addict. It's normal for me as I rarely hunt with anyone that doesn't carry the same last name as mine.
When I arrived at my destination the first cat crossing spot I checked was showing nothing crossed the road. I started down the road noticing not much was moving, not even jack rabbits. I thought to myself this isn't a good sign. Usually the first decent snow storm the cats around here want to lay up. My plans were to make a big loop and head back toward the direction of home hunting my way back. I kept on moving with the heater cranked up fully because it was absolutely freezing outside and the wind just cut right into your bones. The old hunting rig isn't very air tight from traveling in some of the places it's gone. All of the sudden I seen what I knew was a cat, just the way the track was moving. The track was very neatly crossing the road with the typical staggering pattern a cat carries their self when they are walking or looping. The track had a radiant glowing shine to it, because it was smoking hot! I hit the brakes to examine my track and just smiled, thinking this won't take too long. I had just two dogs with me Little Bit and Millie. These two dogs have plenty of cats to their credit. I knew this cat couldn't be too far off because he walked after the storm. Little Bit stuck her nose in the cat track and let out a loud bawl that shook the juniper berries. I decided to release the eager hounds off the leash onto the track. Little Bit and Millie moved up the hill working very careful, exact in detail in everything they did. Through all the excitement I didn't really notice but the track was extraordinarily big for my area. This just added to the excitement of the hunt. There is nothing better than to see a fat tom cat on a limb that your hounds put there through the hard work of your training efforts.
The dogs trailed up the rocky shell mountain and disappeared into the distant rim rocks. I knew from hunting this area in the past that this big tom was heading to a huge long running rim that set back off the road a ways. The hounds were opening steady on the track and moving it out fast, but still weren't jumped. Each dog strived to equal each other on their performance. When one would make a lose the other one would pick it up. They worked the cat track together as a team. All of the sudden the two hounds exploded. I knew then this cat was in trouble! The area the dogs hit was permeated with cat scent. They were heading straight towards the pinnacle of the rocky mountain. The dogs were moving stealthy through the rim rocks. I stood there motionless waiting to see the cat flash by. Suddenly there was a quick flash of grey moving fast through the rocks. Little Bit and Millie came into sight and in one deft motion they were gone. I stood there thinking cat you better find your refuge or you're in trouble. For some reason it seemed like I was rooting for the cat which was far from true. I just knew from experience what type of position he was in. The desert went silent for about 20 seconds then the pleasant sound that is pleasing to all hound hunters ears, the locating tree bark rang out. The cat was up and in one of the few trees on the mountain of rock and shell.
I got all my cumbersome gear together camera, pistol, cat hook (hook I designed to retrieve cats from rock piles), and leash and started up the rocky hill. Each step I was trying to be extra cautious not to roll my ankle in the rocks. When you're out in sub-zero weather alone miles from civilization, the last thing you want is to injure yourself. I looked up the hill toward the sound of the dogs and realized what a ?leg breaker? they were treed in. The snow covered all the little cracks in the rocks keeping me from seeing what I was placing my feet down on. The tree was only a couple of hundred yards up the hill. When I arrived at the tree the cat was still breathing heavy from the race. The two veteran hounds were as excited as two pups when I got there. I leashed them back to some sage brush and took a few pictures. The two hounds stood there snapped together straining at the leash, looking up at the tree trying to see the cat move. Each tree bark was marked by the antipathy they held towards the cat. I took my hands out of my gloves and that's when I realized just how cold it really was. I was having trouble moving my fingers to work the camera. I decided to shoot the cat out. When my hands touched the steel grip of my old 22 pistol I could hardly make a fist. I held the pistol as steady as I could under the circumstances and fired. I was missing the cat bullet after bullet. Lucky for me no one was there to laugh at me. To make a long story short, 4 bullets later I finally hit the cat. Out of those bullets only the one struck him. My hands were so cold I couldn't hold them steady enough to hit the cat. At least that's the excuse I will use. Let's put it this way from that hunt on I carried my sons little 22 cricket single shot. That little light weight rifle is deadly accurate. I know why it's a single shot, because it usually only takes one shot. I got back to the truck and warmed it back up to get my hands to start to move again. I snapped a few more pictures of the cat laying on the tailgate.
During the ride home I kept thinking to myself, what should I do with this cat? Should he go to the fur sale or should I finally breakdown a get a wall mount or rug. My boy was home from school, on break, when I arrived home. He did his normal thing and ran out to greet me and find out if the dogs treed one for us. He wasn?t able to go hunting with me because his grandparents were there to visit from Arkansas. I showed him the tom cat and a big smile spread across his face. He said, ?This one?s going in my room OK?? I couldn't resist I said,? OK we will make it into a rug for you?.
He sat there with me the entire time watching me skin the cat. He continually asked me questions about what and why I was doing that. He is defiantly eager to learn and proved it's in the blood. He will be a 5th generation hounds men.
I called my brother to rub it in a little and light a fire under his butt to get up to my house for another cat hunt. He said? I'm on my way soon?. That's another story.
The Snowstorm Tom!
The two hounds that made this cherished memory happen!
www.snowstormhunting.com
The next morning I woke up and looked out the window to an all white desert. There were two problems, it was still snowing lightly and the wind was blowing and my in-laws were out from Arkansas visiting. I told my father in law if this wind calms down later I'm taking my dogs out to try and tree a cat. He said, ?What ?! You must be nuts! You?re going out in this storm by yourself! The outside temperature had risen to the single digits. I said, ?yes I have to be nuts to go outside in this weather?. When this storm breaks some I'm hitting the desert trails. I said to him,? you know I always hunt by myself anyhow?. I got my gear ready to roll so I could leave quickly when the storm let up. I went out and loaded, and collared my dogs and started my truck up. It was almost 1100 and I couldn't take it anymore. I said to everyone, ?if I aint back in a day or two come looking for me because I'm going hunting?. The storm stopped and the wind was still blowing but oh well my dogs and I have weathered worse. I couldn't take the cabin fever any longer. It was so cold that I had trouble starting my truck back up even after I had already warmed it earlier. I guess I should expect that when I hunt in an old beater like mine. It gets me in the woods and I will take it anywhere it can fit. My dog box matches the rig (ugly).
I hit the road thinking to myself, man my father in law is right, I must be nuts! What in the heck am I doing out here in this rural desert, in a snowstorm all by myself in sub zero conditions. All this just to hear some dogs bark and hopefully see a cat in a tree. If it's in your blood, you are hooked and I'm 4th generation hound hunter so I'm an addict. It's normal for me as I rarely hunt with anyone that doesn't carry the same last name as mine.
When I arrived at my destination the first cat crossing spot I checked was showing nothing crossed the road. I started down the road noticing not much was moving, not even jack rabbits. I thought to myself this isn't a good sign. Usually the first decent snow storm the cats around here want to lay up. My plans were to make a big loop and head back toward the direction of home hunting my way back. I kept on moving with the heater cranked up fully because it was absolutely freezing outside and the wind just cut right into your bones. The old hunting rig isn't very air tight from traveling in some of the places it's gone. All of the sudden I seen what I knew was a cat, just the way the track was moving. The track was very neatly crossing the road with the typical staggering pattern a cat carries their self when they are walking or looping. The track had a radiant glowing shine to it, because it was smoking hot! I hit the brakes to examine my track and just smiled, thinking this won't take too long. I had just two dogs with me Little Bit and Millie. These two dogs have plenty of cats to their credit. I knew this cat couldn't be too far off because he walked after the storm. Little Bit stuck her nose in the cat track and let out a loud bawl that shook the juniper berries. I decided to release the eager hounds off the leash onto the track. Little Bit and Millie moved up the hill working very careful, exact in detail in everything they did. Through all the excitement I didn't really notice but the track was extraordinarily big for my area. This just added to the excitement of the hunt. There is nothing better than to see a fat tom cat on a limb that your hounds put there through the hard work of your training efforts.
The dogs trailed up the rocky shell mountain and disappeared into the distant rim rocks. I knew from hunting this area in the past that this big tom was heading to a huge long running rim that set back off the road a ways. The hounds were opening steady on the track and moving it out fast, but still weren't jumped. Each dog strived to equal each other on their performance. When one would make a lose the other one would pick it up. They worked the cat track together as a team. All of the sudden the two hounds exploded. I knew then this cat was in trouble! The area the dogs hit was permeated with cat scent. They were heading straight towards the pinnacle of the rocky mountain. The dogs were moving stealthy through the rim rocks. I stood there motionless waiting to see the cat flash by. Suddenly there was a quick flash of grey moving fast through the rocks. Little Bit and Millie came into sight and in one deft motion they were gone. I stood there thinking cat you better find your refuge or you're in trouble. For some reason it seemed like I was rooting for the cat which was far from true. I just knew from experience what type of position he was in. The desert went silent for about 20 seconds then the pleasant sound that is pleasing to all hound hunters ears, the locating tree bark rang out. The cat was up and in one of the few trees on the mountain of rock and shell.
I got all my cumbersome gear together camera, pistol, cat hook (hook I designed to retrieve cats from rock piles), and leash and started up the rocky hill. Each step I was trying to be extra cautious not to roll my ankle in the rocks. When you're out in sub-zero weather alone miles from civilization, the last thing you want is to injure yourself. I looked up the hill toward the sound of the dogs and realized what a ?leg breaker? they were treed in. The snow covered all the little cracks in the rocks keeping me from seeing what I was placing my feet down on. The tree was only a couple of hundred yards up the hill. When I arrived at the tree the cat was still breathing heavy from the race. The two veteran hounds were as excited as two pups when I got there. I leashed them back to some sage brush and took a few pictures. The two hounds stood there snapped together straining at the leash, looking up at the tree trying to see the cat move. Each tree bark was marked by the antipathy they held towards the cat. I took my hands out of my gloves and that's when I realized just how cold it really was. I was having trouble moving my fingers to work the camera. I decided to shoot the cat out. When my hands touched the steel grip of my old 22 pistol I could hardly make a fist. I held the pistol as steady as I could under the circumstances and fired. I was missing the cat bullet after bullet. Lucky for me no one was there to laugh at me. To make a long story short, 4 bullets later I finally hit the cat. Out of those bullets only the one struck him. My hands were so cold I couldn't hold them steady enough to hit the cat. At least that's the excuse I will use. Let's put it this way from that hunt on I carried my sons little 22 cricket single shot. That little light weight rifle is deadly accurate. I know why it's a single shot, because it usually only takes one shot. I got back to the truck and warmed it back up to get my hands to start to move again. I snapped a few more pictures of the cat laying on the tailgate.
During the ride home I kept thinking to myself, what should I do with this cat? Should he go to the fur sale or should I finally breakdown a get a wall mount or rug. My boy was home from school, on break, when I arrived home. He did his normal thing and ran out to greet me and find out if the dogs treed one for us. He wasn?t able to go hunting with me because his grandparents were there to visit from Arkansas. I showed him the tom cat and a big smile spread across his face. He said, ?This one?s going in my room OK?? I couldn't resist I said,? OK we will make it into a rug for you?.
He sat there with me the entire time watching me skin the cat. He continually asked me questions about what and why I was doing that. He is defiantly eager to learn and proved it's in the blood. He will be a 5th generation hounds men.
I called my brother to rub it in a little and light a fire under his butt to get up to my house for another cat hunt. He said? I'm on my way soon?. That's another story.
The Snowstorm Tom!
The two hounds that made this cherished memory happen!
www.snowstormhunting.com
