His eyes never left me. He was staring right through me. It was an eerie feeling. I knew instantly that I wasn’t safe. As I started to back up, he charged. The eyes were still boring through me as he loped at an easy pace towards me. I don’t remember lifting the rifle to my shoulders any more than I remember taking the safety off or aiming. It was all instinct – a survivor’s instinct. I fired off a round when he was only seven or eight feet away. I wasn’t sure that I hit him, but when he dove off the trail that we were on, I immediately sat down and started to shake. What was all that about?

It was the first day of the rifle deer hunt in Utah. I can remember when they used to close down the schools and the day was considered a legal holiday. It still is to me. I’ve been hunting for 25 years. I joined the Dedicated Hunter program which allows me to hunt all three deer hunts - - archery, muzzleloader, and rifle. It gives me an opportunity to look for the big bucks.

My husband, Robert and I had spent the summer scouting and we thought we knew where to find a big buck. Our plan was that Robert would take his four-wheeler to the top of the canyon and start walking off the mountain. I took my four-wheeler and drove up a different canyon to a dead-end. At that point, we were both going to start walking toward each other. We had five-mile radius walkie-talkies. It was still dark when we both left camp. I drove nearly eight miles and only saw one other person. When I parked the bike, I walked for about an hour and a half. I still hadn’t seen anyone and I hadn’t heard a shot.

I’m not sure what time it was. I was deep in the backwoods and I was tingling with excitement. I had been very quiet as I slipped around each hillside carefully glassing before I moved to the next crest. I sat down to rest. I could see two hillsides clearly. I tried to call Robert on the walkie-talkie but he didn’t answer. I sat there for a minute more when I saw one doe deer bounding down and away from me. I got up and walked slowly around one pine tree. That was when I saw the big mountain lion. We were on the same trail. His eyes were locked on me and he never stopped walking. His steps were constant and steady. When I began to back up, he charged and I shot. I didn’t know if I had hit the cat, or if I had just scared him. I was equally afraid of the wounded animal coming back for revenge. I strained my eyes towards the last place I had seen the lion. It was steep terrain. There was a small opening before thick dark pine trees shrouded me within the circle. There was no way that I was going after that lion alone! I used my binoculars to search for any sign. I couldn’t see or hear anything. The hair on the back of my neck stood to attention. My senses were peaked. I thought I could hear the flies circling my empty pop can back at the four-wheeler. I kept replaying the whole scene through my mind over and over. It was probably only a matter of seconds, but it felt like forever. In the past, when I’ve had close encounters with mountain lions and bears, they never give me eye contact and they darted away so fast that I wondered if what I saw was real. I kept trying to convince myself that I was dreaming a very bad dream.

I think I sat there for about an hour trying to reach Robert on the radio. I finally marked my spot with my hat and hiked to a ridge. I called several more times on the radio without getting any response from my husband. I thought about telling the people chatting on the radio that I needed help. I was still pretty shaken up. I found a bush and answered Mother Nature. It was then that I knew that I had been attacked for a reason. I believe that the cat could smell blood and came tracking me down. I also noticed that my 30-06 rifle was still on "fire" mode and when I checked it, I had automatically chambered another shell. I don’t remember doing that.

Knowing it had come after me was eerie enough, but knowing that I was supposed to be his lunch made me feel completely alone and cold. In my mind, the cat had just increased from a mountain lion to a very large mountain lion. As the minutes ticked away, he kept getting bigger and bigger. I didn’t know what to do. I started talking frantically into the radio, "Robert, Robert, please can you hear me?" I wanted to stay put, but I also felt an obligation to the animal that I might have wounded. Fear kept me on the ridge until finally, I walked slowly back to where I had marked the trail. I found a small dark drop of blood near the cats retreating steps. I sat back down and waited for help. I kept wringing my hat with my hands and never once took my eyes off the last place I had seen the big mountain lion.

I don’t know how much time lapsed before I finally talked to Robert on the radio. It turned out that we were on two different channels. I didn’t explain, but I told him that I needed his help. He came right away. When I told my incredible tale, he thought that tracking a cat would be difficult since they don’t leave a very good impression. The blood drops turned quickly into a big spray and we found the cat only 30 yards from where I had shot. The bullet had gone through the front quadrant on the shoulder and hit a bone and shattered. The exit wound was only inches behind on the same side.

We began to skin out the cat and Robert’s severe allergies kicked in. He was wheezing and gasping for breath. I finished and stuffed it into his backpack and loaded it on my shoulders. It was pretty heavy, but I walked about 60 yards in front of Robert so that he could catch some fresh air. We walked slowly and didn’t get to my bike for about another hour.

As soon as I got to camp, I used the cell phone and called the local game wardens. They came and took measurements. My cat was an eight-foot tom, a foot bigger than the one that I had taken with my bow the year before. According to Utah law, the warden was required to take the cat and conduct an investigation. They determined that my story was true.

I have since thought how lucky I am. Even though I am a pretty good shot with my bow and arrow, I don’t think I would have had the time to fire an arrow. I also wonder what would have happened if it would have come from behind me. I think it was a wakeup call for safety and preparedness. Even gut piles can pose a threat and call in predators. And for more than one reason, it is always better to hunt in pairs. I won’t ever forget this incident. It will always stand as a learning experience.

The mountains are still the best place in the world. This year, we have already been turkey hunting. We found out yesterday that we’ll be antelope, moose, bear and deer hunting. Of course, I have to go archery elk hunting because that is my favorite. You can bet I’ll be prepared and safe. There is nothing like the thrill of the mountains and a good hunt!