It didn’t take much convincing when my buddy, Johnny, said he wanted to go on a mountain lion hunt in Nevada for our 30th birthdays. My personal preference until then was to chase whitetails and elk, but with two failed hunts with outfitters and getting skunked on my own family farm that past November, I said, “Sure, why not?” This was a hound hunt with one of, if not the most revered, outfitters in the West, Trevor Marques of Bull Ridge Guide Service.
Johnny had approached me about this hunt a good two years before, and now it was quickly approaching. I sent the deposit a few months prior to the hunt, and another whitetail season had passed on my family farm that proved fruitless. I had many encounters with deer, only for a big, mature whitetail to speed right past me in hot pursuit of a doe. It still boggles my mind how females of any species can make males behave. Yet with January of 2024 quickly approaching, I started to watch more videos online of mountain lion hunts and was starting to get antsy. “I’ve never done anything like this before,” I said to myself, “but you’re about to find out, buddy.”
The day finally came when we were on our way to Las Vegas International Airport where we would arrive, get a rental car, and head three hours north to a small town called Ely, Nevada. The drive was easy compared to the treacherous drives we had made through the years. The funniest part of the drive was Johnny commenting that we hadn’t seen much snow and showing slight concern for its effect on our hunt, while simultaneously driving into the part of the drive that showed the area had recently been pounded with snow.
The first morning of the hunt, we met up with Trevor where he took us to the local gas station to get snacks and drinks for the day. I met his father who started the operation and was told I would be riding with him, so me and ol’ Chuck hit the road for what would be one of the most interesting hunts of my life.
Chuck and I spent many hours in his bear truck trying to cut a big cat truck. Between the monotonous time in the truck and it getting stuck in the mud five times, I was starting to lose hope. Hope was regained when Chuck told me that Cole (his nephew) and Trevor had cut a track and they were pursuing it for Johnny. My first encounter with a mountain lion was one I will never forget, and that was almost passing out from trekking up that mountain.
The rest of the trip was pretty slow, and we were getting awfully close to our departure date, which was Saturday. On Friday at about 2 p.m., Trevor yelled over the loudspeaker, “Holy spit!” and all three trucks rushed to his coordinates. Trevor is a no bull sort of guy when he’s on a mission and instructed me to hold this hound and stay on the snowmobile at all costs. The next 20 minutes of high speeding our butts up the side of this mountain and learning how to lean on a snowmobile was one of the funniest times I’ve ever had without a red solo cup. Finally reaching our destination based off the GPS collars on the hounds treeing the cat, we got off the snowmobile and Trevor told me to follow and keep with him.
Reaching the tree where this mountain lion was perched is hard to explain through the keyboard and screen while now sitting in my office. The sound of the hounds chopping, barking, and howling, and the feeling of chaos felt so wild to me until I saw the mountain lion we had been talking about for the last hour. He was hissing and showing the normal behavior of a pissed off mountain lion surrounded by these odd-looking creatures who may have descended from the very canine-looking animals it had seen in its travels. Trevor rounded up all of his dogs, and in the meantime, I was left to stare in awe at this truly wild creature. The feeling of anticipation and the difference this preharvest ritual was to any deer hunt I’ve ever had was remarkable. There was a feeling of moving with certainty, but not worried about your quarry running off. Eventually, after Trevor tied up all of the dogs, he handed me his 300 blackout and instructed me where to aim. The bullet found its mark. Looking back, after all of the commotion, I remember Trevor quipping, “You don’t know what you got here, boy.”
After all the adrenaline wore off and hugs and congratulations ceased, I was able to digest what had just happened and was able to appreciate this creature and its beauty. Yet, there was something that stood out about this cat, and it was the huge hole right above its left eye. The wound looked to be fresh and happened within days not months. We all stood around and brainstormed what could have happened to this apex predator to leave it with such a nasty wound. The Nevada Game and Fish officer at the check-in station believed that it was an elk encounter gone wrong. Maybe this seasoned lion bit off more than it could chew in the form of a bull elk who refused to give in that day. However that encounter ended, whether successful or unsuccessful, nobody will ever know, leaving this 164 lb. mountain lion with one hell of a beauty mark. The battle scar will be reflected in its memory since I have my taxidermist also making me a euro mount.
This experience changed my outlook on a different style of hunting, to say the least. My respect for houndsmen and their love of their dogs is unquestioned as I was able to experience the relationship between man and hound firsthand. I believe that if you are interested in western hunting and are not privy to mountain lion hunting, give it a try and watch some videos online. It’s truly a one-of-a-kind experience that will be nothing like you’ve ever experienced before.
I would like to thank Trevor Marques, his father, and cousin Cole for hosting me on this adventure. Their professionalism, decorum, and ferocious determination to make a hunter leave their camp successful is nothing like I have ever seen. These gentlemen deserve all the accolades they receive and then some.