Howling Hounds

A Cougar Hunting Adventure

- Dawson Smith

Growing up on British Columbia’s (BC) Vancouver Island, I cut my hunting teeth pursuing the elusive black-tailed deer. Weekend after weekend, we would slip into the old-growth forest at first light and spend our days sneaking around as quietly and slowly as possible, searching for the little deer. If at any time during the day I would snap a branch or even step on a crunchy leaf, I would sit down and wait five to 10 minutes. Quiet and slow movement was the key to being successful. Many days as we snuck around, we would encounter, or catch a glimpse of a cougar as it went about doing the same thing, going after the same prey. I suspect they were far more successful than us. However, the lesson at hand was to move slowly and be quiet as a mouse. Hunting cougars with dogs is far different.

“Ready?” Brandon asked. “Yup, let’s go,” I said. Deep in the forest above us, three redbone hounds bayed and bawled. Their chorus echoed throughout the still air. We stole a quick look at the handheld GPS and saw the straight line that all three dog collars left; the hounds were on a cat and we had to catch up.

I was with my buddy Brandon Tames a few miles north of Cranbrook, BC, hunting cougar; it was three days after Christmas and we were on the second “run” of the day. I had driven down from my hometown of Prince George on Boxing Day, a horrendous 16-hour white-knuckle drive through relentless falling snow and icy roads. But in order for our hunt to be successful we needed fresh snow, so the inclement weather was a good thing.