A few years ago, I noticed a trend developing as the late firearm season for deer transitioned to muzzleloader season. The first time it happened, I thought it was just a coincidence, or maybe luck. After it occurred three seasons in a row, I recognized it was a pattern and my understanding of the woods and the wild animals in it, their interactions and the lives they lead shrouded beyond the wood line on Tucker Ridge became much clearer to me.
As an outfitter, I do not hunt in front of my clients – that is bad for business. This means until the last client has departed camp, I am on the sideline, coaching and guiding my clients in their quest. Once the last client leaves the ridge, I take to the woods for own pursuits which typically means during deer season I get to hunt Thanksgiving week and if needed, muzzleloader the following week. For the past three years late in the season while using a doe in estrous bleat call or a fawn in distress call, I have had bobcats and coyotes come in to my set on a string. The first time I didn’t think much of it; the ridge is loaded with predators. We see cats during bear season in the fall right through early April. The second time a predator came into a deer call; it caused my eyebrows to wrinkle. From that day on, whenever I headed into the woods with my muzzleloader for deer, I brought my predator gun along for the ride.
We had some weather the previous week and the ground was blanketed with snow. More was in the air, and with the idea that black powder and precipitation generally do not mix, I was in a blind with my inline halfway through the 2019 muzzleloader season. Facing west, looking down ridge and tucked up in a tangle of dead fall, I nestled in just as the snow started to fall. As dawn broke, I popped my primer in and began the wait. Through the hush of the woods that only a freshly fallen snow can provide, I heard them coming from my left. It was a train of does with a few yearlings, passing to my front about 50 yards away. I was sure Sneaky Pete would be following. No dice, that buck had eluded me again; at least for now. After another hour of dead quiet and no action to speak of, I broke out my doe in estrous bleat can and ran a sequence. No sooner had I put the can back in vest pocket, not having enough time to pick up my inline, the big cat came slinking up the skidder trail to my 2 o’ clock and perched on a fallen balsam fir across the trail, it’s eyes scanning for the doe it just heard.
I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath until the lack of breath vapor in my blind broke me out of my reverie. The bobcat was huge, easily the biggest I had laid eyes on. My mind raced – what was the date, are bobcats open yet? Yes, I remembered, I had checked last evening. Slowly, I reached for my predator rifle leaning in the corner of the blind, careful to not make any noise or disturb the blind. The gun was up, I flicked the safety off as smooth as I could and put the reticle on the big cat. Wait – identify and verify. I heard my own advice I give clients. It was a huge cat; average adult bobcats weigh around 30 pounds and this looked bigger than that. Also, no spots were visible indicating it was not a young bobcat and a coating of snow along its back made the color hard to discern – tawny like a bobcat or gray like a Canada lynx? Knowing we have both in the area I took a quick peek at telltales; the cat’s tail and ear tufts. Sure enough I caught a flash of white on the underside of the black-tipped tail. It was a bobcat for sure; lynx tails are solidly tipped in black.
The rifle barked and the big bob peeled off the tree, dropping to the ground behind it. I exhaled, waited and finally made my way to the cat. It weighed in at 48 pounds and after mounted, chasing a big ruffed grouse I had taken earlier in the season, stretched out to nearly four feet long. To this day it was one of my most memorable days in the Maine woods and by far my favorite mount.