I guess I let the cat out of the bag.
The spring of 65 was different as I was nineteen out of
school and as they say foot loose and fancy free, whatever that means. There was
a bunch of us that kind of hang out together trying our best to see just how
much trouble we could get into. We all
had jobs, mostly part time, so we had a lot of time to run around chasing girls,
fishing , hunting, racing and some time chasing each other. We all had pet name
or nick names. Cliff short for Clifford was called the nose. He had a nose on
him that some years later he would get surgery shorten. Then there was john he
was called doggie, he drove an old dodge truck that someone “I won’t mention
any names” had replaced the necessary letters on the hood of the truck to spell
dogge thus doggie. There was the chief, Ed chow a full bold Ute and he would
let you know about it. One other was Nathan Gore but I will let you guess his
nick name.
It was the first week in June we found some girls to go
camping with us and we all headed up to the porcupine dam. It was remote and secluded,
a place where you could go skinny dipping, get drunk, and have fun, kick up our
heels a bit. John worked a Safeway store and got hold of a keg of beer. There is a ravine on the north side of the dam
that opens up to a sandy beach and is about the only place you can camp at the
dam. Cliff had brought a couple of the
big buckets of Kentucky fried chicken and all the trimmings, the leftovers from
work. He worked at KFC. So he would load us up with chicken. We built a big bone fire and were having a big
time goading the girls to going swimming in the buff, we all had fun. The girls were a little worried about the
cries of a cougar up the ravine from camp and I was put to the task of taking
care of it. The cries of a cougar in the
dark can unsettle you a bit.
I was known for my way with wild animals, so with a lot of encouragement
form my buddies I hike up the ravine to the spot where I could see the cougar
in the mouth of the old mine that had been dynamited back when they built the
dam. I could see it was a young cougar it had not lost its spots, and it looked
to be about four months old. I look
around for the mama, but it was not to be seen. I was about to shoot it, when I
had the wild idea of catching it. I ran back down to the camp and got a rope,
and the bag of chicken gizzards, that we were going to use for bait the Kokanee
salmon love them. I went back up to the mine and sat down and started to talk
to the cat that was just inside the opening. I threw some gizzards to him and
he came out to eat. I could see he was very thin and had not eaten in a while. I feed him some more and he came closer. I reach
out and touch him expecting to lose my hand but it did not attack or shy away.
So I pick him up and continued to feed him gizzards. I took him back to camp where he and I was the
hero’s of the evening. When thing settled down in camp the kitten was a sleep
on my sleeping bag. We spent four day and night up there at the dam fishing and
hunting for rabbits which I feed to the kitten.
It followed me everywhere and it was hard to leave him up at the dam. Every
time we went to the dam that summer he would come into camp and we would feed
him.
Things change the next summer about the last or July we had gone up to the
dam and found a bounty poster on the cougar that the ranchers had seen up
there, some said that it was killing cattle. There was a five hundred dollar bounty
on the big cat. We all knew where to
find one and it would be an easy five hundred buck. We were on the hunt for the
cat. When we got site of him we could see he was coming to meet us at camp. I knew
it would be his end so I shot toward him off.
My buddies would shoot to kill, at least that what I believed. My aim
was not that good, and I hit him about the middle of the tail. He ran off to hide and nurse his tail which
is now about a foot shorter. We recovered the piece of his tail and the fellows
were all sorry that we would betray the friendship of the cat. But he now has a name Short tail. For year
after he would still come to camp to be feed, and would stay about twenty feet
away. He is gone now they don’t live but ten to twelve years in the wild. I never
heard of him being killed.
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