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Teen w/ sword saves dog from Mtn. Lion
- Thread starter cgmblade
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I find it amazing that people who live in areas with mountain lions will even go outside without a gun. I wouldn't, but then, I'm scared of lions.
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I live in an area with lots of lions, I have never had any problem with them. Once my dog tore off after one, and the cat took off. THey usually don't mess too much with dogs. On the other hand a few weeks ago, a bear went into a guys front yard and killed their dog a few miles from my house.
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Esav Benyamin
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The guy was not a shmuck. So he wasn't a wildlife expert. He stood up for his dog against an obviously dangerous wild animal. So what if it wasn't a lion? A big raccoon could rip you up, tough guy.
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and furthermore i love my xbox but i know my animals
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Coons look pretty cute and cuddly to me..............not that I would cuddle up with one!........maybe if it was cold and I was lonely
Esav Benyamin
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Esav Benyamin
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Got to respect the man for doing right, when even he probably realized he didn't know what he was doing.
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I would be willing to make a bet he knew exactly what it was. He may have figured there was no way someone could figure out that its wasn't a Cougar. Who knows if he even went for his sword either. Just sayin... I tend to be a sceptic when someone tells one lie.
No matter how much experience a person has with wild animals, everyone in the US knows what a Racoon looks like. My sister in law had never even seen a deer in her life, and a few weeks ago she looked out our window and saw a racoon in our yard, she knew what it was.
Is it that tough or do I just have a good eye for distinguishing the differences???
No matter how much experience a person has with wild animals, everyone in the US knows what a Racoon looks like. My sister in law had never even seen a deer in her life, and a few weeks ago she looked out our window and saw a racoon in our yard, she knew what it was.
Is it that tough or do I just have a good eye for distinguishing the differences???
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Not a mountain lion, a raccoon...
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I second that! :thumbup::thumbup:
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It was dark, he was scared and young....... some kids would have kept running. Ever heard a raccoon scrap, sounds larger and scary as hell especially if you have not heard it before, he may not know his animals but at least he has guts.
Used to help dad on trapline and am still trapping raccoons in pest control. They are tough as hell, smart too. Ask a coonhound owner that hunts for his best stories, you will get some good ones.
That is one tough lab oregonknifeguy!!! Mine is from field trial stock and still has mint stuffies from when he was a puppy.
Had a friend with 6 acres in town before it got developed and his wolf/siberian husky Noni was a raccoon reaper. She must have killed at least 20. He had one side of his shop fully covered in raccoon pelts. His poor male dobie outweighed her by 20lbs and got his butt kicked for just looking at her food dish from across the yard.
Also knew a guy that had to get his pitty put down after fighting a raccoon pack. She lost an eye and most of her nose and looked like she danced with a thresher. Their claws are evil.
Used to help dad on trapline and am still trapping raccoons in pest control. They are tough as hell, smart too. Ask a coonhound owner that hunts for his best stories, you will get some good ones.
That is one tough lab oregonknifeguy!!! Mine is from field trial stock and still has mint stuffies from when he was a puppy.
Had a friend with 6 acres in town before it got developed and his wolf/siberian husky Noni was a raccoon reaper. She must have killed at least 20. He had one side of his shop fully covered in raccoon pelts. His poor male dobie outweighed her by 20lbs and got his butt kicked for just looking at her food dish from across the yard.
Also knew a guy that had to get his pitty put down after fighting a raccoon pack. She lost an eye and most of her nose and looked like she danced with a thresher. Their claws are evil.
No idea if the guy was being honest or not, and won't speculate -- but a coon is a helluva fighter. In dark bushes, it would look like quite a whirlwind tussle. I've seen two of them team up on a dog -- one keeping the dog's attention, and the other circling to jump in from behind.
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OK, Esav...
Here's part of the story, Young Bert, the not-right dog, and the adventure.
YB had gone on point on a day when birds were not to be found. It was the end of pheasant season and the tall grasses had been pushed down by an earlier season snow. He was focused on one large clump of bent-over grass.
I was close enough. I stamped the ground. Nothing. I stamped again, trying to startle the bird up and away. Still, nothing. The wind gusted, moving grasses a bit, but no movement at all from the hiding spot. Feeling somewhat foolish, I jumped up with both feet. Nothing but my embarrassment.
This was getting silly. I jumped up and down like a kid throwing a tantrum, still trying to keep my hunter's poise. (The two are incompatible.)
Finally, I moved my right foot to step on the grasses. I let my leg down, pushing the grasses down until I felt some solid--no, something soft. I pressed harder, then hard.
A squeal shrieked out and a raccoon the size of a rottweiller jumped out, snarling and hissing and baring teeth that a cougar would have been proud of!!!
HOLY SH*T !!!!!
My (ahem) bird dog went from congenial hunting companion to CUJO in a heart-beat and threw himself at the raccoon, seizing it in the belly of the beast as the raccoon stood up like a small bear, paws out-stretched, and HUGE teeth bared in the most incredible snarl and growl I'd ever heard.
JAZUSMERRYANDJOESUF!!!!!!!!! Bert! You IDIOT !!! NO !!!!!!!!!!!!!
This was a battle ! This was pre-history conflict ! Bert was not letting this sucker go and the raccoon was HUGE and not giving up any ground to the (Hah!) bird dog. They growled and snarled and clung and bit and shook and gouged and grappled for incredibly intense seconds (years?)
I kept yelling "No, Bert, No!!!" to pull him back. He was having none of it. He was a killer in a fight to the death !!!
"No, BERT! NO!!!!!"
He backed up a bit, not because of my commands, but to get up some steam for another charge. The effing raccoon did not run for a tree, and there were plenty available, he snarled and feinted a charge.
I shot him in the belly with the shotgun, 7 1/2 shot, trap load. I hurt him, but I sure as hell did not incapacitate him. YB charged back in, and the two were once again locked in mortal combat. Blood was flying everywhere. YB was bloody from nose to neck. The raccoon less bloody, but matted with saliva from the dammed dog and looking, if anything, more fierce.
I screamed at YB to back off, and as he took a pause, the coon started to retreat. I had reloaded and, putting the barrell as close to his head as I could, I dispatched him.
jayzus. Just jayzus.
YB charged back in. He was having none of this "it's over" business. He was making sure that this critter was done for. Bert's entire head was covered with blood, his jaws locked on the middle of the raccoon, and he shook it and snarled and bit down and shook it again and again.
I poked the raccoon to make sure it was gone, then grabbed Bert's collar and pulled him back. He resisted, but then relaxed a bit. I put the shotgun down and dragged him over to the stream at the edge of the bog. Kneeling down in the water, I sloshed water over and over on his head, rubbed his fur, and sloshed some more. Each rivelet of water from his head was red with fresh blood. What had the coon done? Eye, flayed flesh, neck tear or worse?
Over and over, I washed down the dog's head. Finally the water coming off him turned pinkish and then relatively clear. His right ear was torn up, he had deep gouges in his muzzle, scratches elsewhere...but his eyes were all right, and it didn't appear that any vital damage had been done.
I do luv that dog, but jeez.
Here's part of the story, Young Bert, the not-right dog, and the adventure.
YB had gone on point on a day when birds were not to be found. It was the end of pheasant season and the tall grasses had been pushed down by an earlier season snow. He was focused on one large clump of bent-over grass.
I was close enough. I stamped the ground. Nothing. I stamped again, trying to startle the bird up and away. Still, nothing. The wind gusted, moving grasses a bit, but no movement at all from the hiding spot. Feeling somewhat foolish, I jumped up with both feet. Nothing but my embarrassment.
This was getting silly. I jumped up and down like a kid throwing a tantrum, still trying to keep my hunter's poise. (The two are incompatible.)
Finally, I moved my right foot to step on the grasses. I let my leg down, pushing the grasses down until I felt some solid--no, something soft. I pressed harder, then hard.
A squeal shrieked out and a raccoon the size of a rottweiller jumped out, snarling and hissing and baring teeth that a cougar would have been proud of!!!
HOLY SH*T !!!!!
My (ahem) bird dog went from congenial hunting companion to CUJO in a heart-beat and threw himself at the raccoon, seizing it in the belly of the beast as the raccoon stood up like a small bear, paws out-stretched, and HUGE teeth bared in the most incredible snarl and growl I'd ever heard.
JAZUSMERRYANDJOESUF!!!!!!!!! Bert! You IDIOT !!! NO !!!!!!!!!!!!!
This was a battle ! This was pre-history conflict ! Bert was not letting this sucker go and the raccoon was HUGE and not giving up any ground to the (Hah!) bird dog. They growled and snarled and clung and bit and shook and gouged and grappled for incredibly intense seconds (years?)
I kept yelling "No, Bert, No!!!" to pull him back. He was having none of it. He was a killer in a fight to the death !!!
"No, BERT! NO!!!!!"
He backed up a bit, not because of my commands, but to get up some steam for another charge. The effing raccoon did not run for a tree, and there were plenty available, he snarled and feinted a charge.
I shot him in the belly with the shotgun, 7 1/2 shot, trap load. I hurt him, but I sure as hell did not incapacitate him. YB charged back in, and the two were once again locked in mortal combat. Blood was flying everywhere. YB was bloody from nose to neck. The raccoon less bloody, but matted with saliva from the dammed dog and looking, if anything, more fierce.
I screamed at YB to back off, and as he took a pause, the coon started to retreat. I had reloaded and, putting the barrell as close to his head as I could, I dispatched him.
jayzus. Just jayzus.
YB charged back in. He was having none of this "it's over" business. He was making sure that this critter was done for. Bert's entire head was covered with blood, his jaws locked on the middle of the raccoon, and he shook it and snarled and bit down and shook it again and again.
I poked the raccoon to make sure it was gone, then grabbed Bert's collar and pulled him back. He resisted, but then relaxed a bit. I put the shotgun down and dragged him over to the stream at the edge of the bog. Kneeling down in the water, I sloshed water over and over on his head, rubbed his fur, and sloshed some more. Each rivelet of water from his head was red with fresh blood. What had the coon done? Eye, flayed flesh, neck tear or worse?
Over and over, I washed down the dog's head. Finally the water coming off him turned pinkish and then relatively clear. His right ear was torn up, he had deep gouges in his muzzle, scratches elsewhere...but his eyes were all right, and it didn't appear that any vital damage had been done.
I do luv that dog, but jeez. 
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I've seen some big, dog sized, raccoons, if he saw a flash of one of these, in a panic, as it was getting dark, I can easily see how he could mistake one for something else, maybe not a big mountain lion, but definately a coyote, or bobcat, or maybe even a young mountain lion.