Tracking a Killer: On the Trail of an Arizona Mountain Lion

[Troubleshooter]

Tracking a Killer: On the Trail of an Arizona Mountain Lion​

Author’s note: The North American mountain lion [Felis concolor] is commonly referred to by various colloquial names including “cougar,” “catamount,” “panther” (sometimes “painter”), and “puma.” Throughout this report, I will use the terms “cat,” “lion,” and “mountain lion” interchangeably. For one thing, “cat” is much quicker to repeatedly type than “mountain lion.” Also, it is my understanding that Arizona’s most dangerous “cougars” are to be found in Scottsdale and Sun City.

Prelude: For several years, I had been contemplating a hunt for mountain lion. Although it is possible to lure one in using a predator call, the sizable home range and cautious habits of the big cats make that a rather low-percentage proposition. Chance encounters during hunts for other animals occasionally occur, but they are just that – an anomaly. Any realistic chance of success meant hounds, and that meant tracking, and the usual method seemed to be tracking them over freshly-fallen snow. Consequently, I researched outfitters in mountainous snow country from Montana and Idaho, down through Wyoming, and as far south as northern New Mexico. Because this type of hunt depended on the presence of fresh tracking snow, it would require being available on a short-notice basis. For various reasons I was unable to make this happen.

Eventually my search led to several positive reports about the dry-land hunts conducted by 7 Anchor Outfitters in Arizona. I subsequently contacted the owner, Logan Anderson, in February 2022. After a phone conversation and several emails, we agreed to book a hunt for March 2023, and the deposit was remitted. I would be hunting with my nephew who lives in the area and who had expressed great interest, as he had not previously hunted from horseback. For that matter, it had been about twenty years since my last horseback hunt; and over a year since having been in the saddle at all. We were both looking forward to it.

Arizona manages its mountain lion population by Zone and Unit, with annual harvest quotas assigned to each. A few weeks prior to our scheduled hunt dates, Logan called to tell me that the zones in which he hunted had met their annual quotas. Apparently there had been heavy snows up in the high country, leaving many of the back roads impassable. Consequently, numerous hunters had shifted their efforts to the lower elevations, and the quota in Logan’s area was reached much earlier than usual. Following a brief consultation with my nephew, we decided to postpone the hunt for one year.

March 2024 arrived and the situation repeated itself. Logan offered the option to return our deposits or to reschedule; we decided to postpone yet again. But we hedged our bets somewhat; moving up the dates by several weeks. Just in case. Fast-forward to 2025, and about a week or so before our scheduled hunting dates Logan informed me that there was only one mountain lion remaining on-quota in their local Unit. However through a series of agreements with other ranchers, he has access to hunting areas in several Units located in two different Zones, comprising tens of thousands of additional acres. So there were still plenty of options for us to hunt. We could hunt in Logan’s home Unit, and if successful, we would travel to another unit and attempt to fill the other tag. Or we could just proceed directly to the other Unit(s) and attempt to fill both tags there. The big cats can range over many miles, so it would be a matter of figuring out where they were roaming at the time of our hunt.

I called my nephew and told him that at long last, our hunt was a “go.” He replied that for him at least, it was not. He and his whole family were sick, stuck on a merry-go-round of flu, pneumonia, and RSV which were making their way through the household. As soon as one of them recovered, another one got sick. So he was out, and could not participate this year. My options were either to go by myself or try to rebook for some future date.

When planning one of these trips, I often invite one of the boys to tag along. They’ve grown into fine young men and seasoned travelers, and I’m finally at a stage in life where I can take some of the financial burden off of their shoulders. But their participation is an invitation, not a precondition. I’ve wanted to take this hunt for a long time and am certainly not getting any younger. I rang up Logan and told him that I would be arriving alone.

 

[Troubleshooter]

The Arizona Game & Fish Department (AZGFD) told me that hunting licenses were available online, but that the required mountain lion tag was not. Since I would be driving within a mile of one of their field offices anyway, it was a simple matter to stop off and purchase a tag. (Apparently they are also available at various sporting goods stores throughout the state). That having been accomplished, Logan and I arranged to meet on Sunday evening. I was excited to finally be going on this hunt. Of course, anytime the directions include the phrase “… and then turn onto the highway towards Bagdad” one can be fairly assured that some level of adventure will be involved. We met at the appointed time and place, and I was directed to a late-model 5th wheel camper parked near the ranch house. This would serve as sleeping quarters for the week. The camper was clean, well-maintained, and fully stocked. It was a very nice setup.

It only took a few minutes to get settled-in to the camper while Logan finished up his chores. The 7 Anchor Ranch is a working cattle ranch, and consequently something always requires attention. Logan mentioned that he had recently seen lion tracks in the area, but had not seen the big cat itself. A month prior, one of his hunters had been successful on the third day of the hunt, but more recently they had hunted all week and returned home empty-handed. We would roll the dice and see how our luck ran.

But sometimes you can make your own luck. Logan was going to check on some cattle which were grazing on a nearby mesa, and would look for sign along the way. Invited to accompany him, we rode an ATV dragging a small harrow with which to smooth the trail. In the morning, he would check for any fresh sign which might appear overnight. We located the cattle, fed them some range cubes, and returned down the mountain. We noted that some of the cows had already begun dropping their calves. It was nearly dark when we returned to the main ranch, so we made arrangements to meet the following morning and called it a night.

 

[Troubleshooter]

Around 5 a.m., I heard Logan’s ATV crank up as he went to look for sign on the trail that we had dragged the previous evening. I was outside arranging my gear when he returned. A few minutes later he appeared again, this time with a farm-fresh egg sandwich for my breakfast. In the pre-dawn, we discussed the results of his early-morning scout. Logan had seen fresh tracks on the trail, confirming that at least one cat was still in the area.

The rest of the crew arrived just before dawn. I was introduced to Brandon, Troy, and another Logan (this one sported a beard so we’ll just call him Logan B to differentiate between the two). They would complete our little hunting party. All of these men are working cowhands, and they either work for the 7 Anchor Ranch or help out with the hunting operations there. These are neighbors helping neighbors and friends helping friends, and it lent an easygoing vibe to the operation.

The team made quick work of loading the horses and hounds into trailers and truck boxes, and soon we were on our way to a neighboring ranch where Logan A had recently seen sign. The tracks that Logan had seen during his pre-dawn scouting were headed in that direction, and he had a hunch that our quarry might be in that area. So we would start our hunt from there. We were saddled-up and ready to ride shortly after sunup. The two Logans led the procession, followed by Brandon (the youngest member of the team) and myself. Troy picked up the drag position, where he kept watch over the proceedings, rounding up any stray dogs and generally keeping things moving in the right direction. It was a calm and tranquil morning in the high desert country – a beautiful but harsh and unforgiving place – and between the vastness of the land and the peacefulness of the surroundings it was the kind of day where a man could feel both formidable and inconsequential at the same time. We proceeded at a leisurely pace, with only the rhythmic fall of the horses’ hooves and the creak of saddle leather announcing our passage.

The dogs cast about for fresh scent as we followed on horseback. From time to time they sounded off as they caught a whiff of the lion, only to go silent when they subsequently lost it. The riding was fairly easy; it was not extremely rough country but there were several times when the brush got a bit thick, especially in the gullies. Occasionally the branches were of sufficient height for the horse to pass under, if not necessarily the rider. But we survived. With cool morning temperatures and just the hint of a breeze, it had been a relaxed and pleasant outing thus far.

 

[Troubleshooter]

We had been riding for something over an hour when we encountered the bloody, half-eaten carcass of a young calf which had been dragged under a creosote bush. It was the fresh kill of a mountain lion.

Adult mountain lions must kill about once a week; usually either a young deer or an elk … or livestock. Newborn beef calves may not be particularly valuable, but after a couple of years on the range they grow up to be steers or heifers; and with current prices exceeding $200 per cwt. it doesn’t take very many losses to threaten a ranch’s long-term viability. I raise beef cattle myself (albeit on a much smaller scale) and have occasionally lost an animal to predation, so I could relate to this on a personal level. We were no longer merely on a hunting trip, but on a Mission. It was now incumbent on us to locate not just “a mountain lion” but to find THIS mountain lion. And to do so before it killed again. The dogs took up the fresh scent and made a bee-line towards the highway, well more than a mile below us. Logan A was right behind them, riding hard in an effort to catch up.

We were still high up on the hillside, picking our way through the cactus, brush, and wadis when we heard the screeching tires of a pickup truck. Moving with singular purpose, the dogs had been intently following the cat’s scent to and then across the highway with Logan in hot pursuit. We later learned that the driver, probably blinded by the morning sun in his eyes, had spotted them just in time for a panic-stop. Meanwhile, Logan B had ridden down to help out. Traffic on that road was light to the point of being almost nonexistent that morning, but they still had to flag-down a second truck in order to avoid mayhem. Eventually they regrouped on the opposite side of the highway without injury to either the dogs or the drovers.

 

[Troubleshooter]

In due time Brandon, Troy, and I made our way down to the highway, crossed over, and then entered onto another ranch property via a wire gate. We rode to the edge of a canyon through which flowed a medium-sized stream. Then we followed a steep narrow trail down to the canyon floor.

Logan A continued monitoring the movements of the dog pack, somewhere far ahead of us while Logan B rode back and rejoined our group. Vegetation was thick here in the bottomland. Brandon and Logan B retrieved small folding saws from their saddlebags which were put to use in pruning tree limbs and hacking through dense stands of saplings, thus allowing sufficient space for our horses to pass.

 

[Bwana Man]

Good story. Keep it comin'!

 

[Troubleshooter]

Logan A was still well off in the distance, following the dogs. The rest of us rode parallel to the creek and eventually dropped down into the creek bed itself, where the riding was much easier. The temperatures were starting to rise and I found myself getting rather warm and more than a bit dehydrated. I told Troy that I needed to take a short break once we reached a sandbar that lay just ahead.

My dismount at that time could perhaps best be described as “less than graceful.” I had halted the horse at creek side, and while dismounting my offside boot sank into the soft ground of the sandbar. It put me a bit off-balance, and in doing so it subjected the horse to some small measure of discomfort. The horse moved, my onside boot (still partly in the stirrup) did not, and off I went in slow-motion and ass-over-tea-kettle into the creek. Lying flat on my backside in the shallow water, I conducted a quick self-check which indicated that all body parts were still present and in operable condition. Troy rode up to recover my horse and Brandon recovered my hat while I attempted to recover what remained of my dignity.

But the impromptu bath had cooled me down, and a cool-down was after all, one of the reasons for stopping in the first place. The incident also underscored the importance of wearing wool, a lesson that I had learned as a teenager: “there is nothing so warm when wet nor so cool when dry as wool.” Or as some would say, “in the mountains, cotton kills.” Whatever. I was just glad to be wearing wool. I retrieved a bottle of water from my pommel bags and downed it.

 

[Troubleshooter]

Refreshed and rehydrated, we saddled-up and resumed our ride. Logan A and the dogs were still following the scent of the big cat as it continued to elude its pursuers. It moved to and fro, hither and yon, sometimes doubling back on itself in an effort to throw the dogs off its trail. Our party reined-up and it seemed like we were going to ride back the way we had come.

And then it happened.

The dogs were returning in our direction, their barks and howls growing louder as they approached. The lion had once again doubled-back on its own trail but the dogs remained in hot pursuit. Now the big question was whether it could be treed or if it would scamper up towards the rim of the canyon, where once among the rocks it might finally make good its escape. Not to mention that it would be much easier for the big cat to negotiate the rocky outcrops than for its human pursuers to climb into position for a clear shot.

But we got lucky. I never saw the lion as it had skirted around us, but caught an occasional glimpse of the hounds as they raced past, going back in the direction from which we had just ridden. In fairly short order they managed to tree the big cat in a gnarly old cottonwood and several of the hounds climbed onto the lower limbs to ensure that it stayed there. The remainder of the pack gathered at its base, sending up a deafening cacophony as they barked “TREED!”

We rode up out of the creek and onto dry ground, then dismounted. Logan B held the horses and handed me the carbine which he had unsheathed from its scabbard. We quickly walked to the tree where the lion had sought refuge. A large tree limb was blocking the animal’s vitals and as I was repositioning to find a better angle, Logan A motioned me over to the opposite side of the tree. From there I had an unobstructed broadside view of our quarry, facing to the right. It was perched high in the tree, about as far up as there were branches which could support its weight. Two or three of the hounds had climbed onto the lower branches and were holding it at bay, at least for the moment. I would guess that the shot distance at about 40 feet, but at a steep angle of perhaps 80 degrees – almost vertical. Shouldering the carbine, I took aim low on the near (right) side of the chest, with the thought that I should be able to take out the heart, and probably a lung as well.

 

[Troubleshooter]

Logan A had advised me to reload immediately and be prepared to shoot again, but it was unnecessary. At the shot, the big cat had simply folded, then tumbled end-over-end until it hit the ground. This particular cat had decidedly not landed on its feet!

It was immediately surrounded by the dogs, making any attempt at a follow-up shot imprudent. The two Logans moved in with pistols drawn to pay the insurance while Brandon did his best to restrain the dogs. The mountain lion was dead. We paid our respects to the animal and thanked the Creator for a safe and successful hunt, including the safety of horses, hounds, and hunters.

 

[Troubleshooter]

Actually, “folded” is probably not the correct word. Perhaps a better descriptor would be to say that it “crumpled.” Yes, that was it – the big cat had shuddered, went as limp as a dish-rag, and then simply crumpled to the ground. Just like a cheap suit coat falling from its hanger. My hunting companions commented that they had never seen one react that way before. Although the bullet was not recovered, it had entered where aimed and had exited just to the off-side (left) of the spine. The sheer amount of blood pouring out of the carcass attested to destruction of the heart, although the animal’s immediate reaction indicated damage to the central nervous system. Perhaps by passing so close to the spinal column, there was sufficient hydrostatic shot to impact the Central Nervous System as well? Regardless, this particular mountain lion would not be killing any more calves.

 

[Troubleshooter]

We had been extremely fortunate. There were no wounded animals to track, no injured hounds or horses to patch up. We had been out for roughly five hours, and the hunt was over. We took a breather and snapped some photos. Lena was very pleased with herself and couldn’t help mugging for the camera.

Following the obligatory congratulations and photos, Logan A loaded the carcass onto his horse and we rode downstream to the home place of the neighbor’s ranch.

A phone call was made to the owner, who drove out to meet us. He was appreciative of the fact that the big predator had been removed from circulation. A couple of the men caught a ride to retrieve the trucks and trailers while the rest of us stayed put. I ate the sandwich that had been provided for lunch and drank another bottle of water. Once the animals had been loaded, we returned to the 7 Anchor Ranch, where everyone partook of refreshments and a couple of Victory Cigars were put to the torch.

 

[Troubleshooter]

I should mention that this specific mountain lion was a female. Most hunters participating in these hunts want to take a big tom. I entered the hunt with that same expectation as well. But when all was said and done, it really didn’t matter. This cat was attacking the calf herd and the situation called for an appropriate response.

Back at the ranch, it weighed-in right at 100 lbs. on their hanging scale. That is considered a very respectable size for a female. You can see for yourself the size of its paws on this photo. As of this writing, I’m still awaiting the “official” age estimate from the Game & Fish Department.

That night I joined Logan and his family for a nice, thick steak with all the fixin’s. We settled-up our accounts, I thanked him once again, and left a small gratuity in appreciation for the efforts of each member of the team. Logan being the modest type, he declined so I asked him to tip my horse instead. In the morning we said our goodbyes and I drove out.

This hunt offered a unique experience, hearkening back to a way of life which has disappeared from too much of this Nation. Our little hunting party performed well and the entire team – both canine and human – worked together as one well-oiled machine. In fairness, I must reiterate how very fortunate we were, not only in harvesting this big cat, but in doing so as quickly as we did. That is certainly not the norm, but the expertise of the hounds and their human counterparts contributed greatly to that outcome.

Would I recommend it? Absolutely! I’m already talking to my nephew about the possibility of booking a hunt for some future date. Perhaps in several years when his own young son is of hunting age (and assuming that I remain capable of sitting a horse at that time). Meanwhile, I have good memories of a bucket-list hunt and the satisfaction of having helped out, in some small way, a fellow rancher and his compadres.

 

[Troubleshooter]

Post-script:

I was driving through Prescott on the way out of town, and had invited an acquaintance to join me for lunch. We met at his place of business, a small nondescript office tucked away deep in the bland recesses of uptown Prescott yuppie-land. While relating my recent activities, his business partner came around the corner of the hallway in what I can only describe as a rather highly animated manner.

I couldn’t help but overhear. Did you just say that you’ve been hunting mountain lion?

Yes I have.

And that you actually killed one?

That is correct.

Oh thank you – THANK YOU! But – why only one?

Because I am only allowed one tag per year, and that is all that we encountered.

As it turned out, the business partner is an avid bicyclist, and he had been stalked or attacked at least twice during his rides in the area. Thus far he had been fortunate to escape without injury, but he had developed a keen awareness of the dangers of predator overpopulation, borne of experience. Far from being critical of our hunting endeavors, he was quite supportive. It was an unexpectedly positive encounter and a pleasant reaffirmation of the role that we as hunters play in wildlife management and in maintaining the Balance of Nature.

 

[Bwana Man]

Thank you for the story, and I commend you for giving thanks to the Creator. It's always a little sad to see a majestic animal die, and it's right that you gave God praise and paid your respects to the cat.

 

[RSL]

Great story of adventure near me. Thank you.

 

[Jared640]

I enjoyed reading every bit of this. Congratulations

 

[Troubleshooter]

Thank you for the story, and I commend you for giving thanks to the Creator. It's always a little sad to see a majestic animal die, and it's right that you gave God praise and paid your respects to the cat.

It is the proper thing to do. Some prefer to give silent thanks, others vocalize; whatever one is most comfortable with doing. In this instance, we all participated. That's just the sort of people that we had on our little hunting team that day.

 

[375 Ruger Fan]

@Troubleshooter congratulations on getting a day one mountain lion and thank you for the excellent report. Logan Anderson is the cat whisperer and a great guy to go mountain lion hunting with. I might be the the hunter that Logan was referring to when he mentioned a Day 3 lion, earlier in January 2025. Tough hunt and a lot of saddle time, but just an incredible experience. Highly recommend Seven Anchor Outfitters!

 

[HUNTROMANIA]

Congratulations and thank you for sharing this wonderful experience with us!