After two hours of trudging up the mountainside through deep snowdrifts, the dogs began to bark. There, in our path, was what we’d been looking for: the paw print of a mountain lion. It belonged to a female that had recently passed by. Kevin and Ken, the houndsmen, consulted briefly with John, the biologist, while the four hounds whimpered with excitement, straining at their leads, eager to begin the chase.
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I carried one of the two rifles, followed by a pilot lugging measuring instruments, and a doctor and a postman struggling with cameras and radio antennae. Six others puffed and panted their way behind us, all of them – like me – professional cityfolk unused to such strenuous exertion.
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When we finally caught up with the dogs they were bunched up at a rock, behind which an angry female mountain lion snarled and spat, swiping with its claws. We kept back, ready to run if it made a bid for freedom, while John crept down the mountain behind it. Having approached the lion quietly from below, he took his rifle from his bag, loaded it, took aim and shot.
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We moved in, briskly efficient, photographing, measuring and weighing as John had taught us. Having changed the battery in its radio-collar, we brought the silken-coated creature round with an injection. Snarling and unsteady, it slunk away into cover and we began the long trek down the mountain.
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However, our initial prejudices soon faded, as we realised the pair had more in common with us than we’d thought, and as the skill and dedication which they put into the project became apparent. This was most noticeable the next day, when our task was to provide a mother and cubs with new batteries in their collars. As we reached the point in the canyon where the pines grew thickest, suddenly a large male lion went streaking across the snowy plain. Ken and Kevin set off through the sagebrush.
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While this was happening, Ken and Kevin crept up behind and tried to drop a pitifully small lasso – made from the dogs’ leads – over the lion’s head. Sensing their presence, the animal whirled around, slashing with its claws. I went in with the hounds again, and a surreal dance developed.
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Of course it wasn’t always so dramatic – many of our days in the mountains were quite mundane. But for me, the best thing about the trip was watching hunters and environmentalists sharing an adventure and putting money and energy into conservation, all the while showing that really they are two sides of the same coin.