by Ron Day

At first it was hard to get just the right amount of hissing in my voice and I merely ended up sounding something like my dog Sniffy used to sound, whenever he'd gagged on a chicken bone.

Finally, though, I figured out that the sound had to begin, and end, in the very back of my mouth, where my tonsils would have been if old Doc Meyers hadn't cut them out years before.

After that it was simply a matter of adding a lot of feeling, which, for lack of a better word,
I called "pissedoffidness".

And, once I'd perfected it, I was thrilled to discover that there were seemingly endless opportunities to use "The Cougar Call!"

One summer evening, when I was 26 or 27 years old, I was in the mountains, sitting with my camera in the middle of a fir thicket, waiting for a deer to approach a nearby pond so I could take its picture.

I'd been sitting there for perhaps an hour when the silence of the forest was suddenly broken by the sound of a motorcycle approaching on an old and un-used logging road.

As it neared my hiding spot I could hear the voices of a teen-aged boy and girl shouting to each other as they rode double.

"Shall we stop at this pond?" the boy asked his passenger.
"Sure!" she replied.

"Well, that's that!" I thought to myself. My chance to photograph deer was shot for the day. "I sure wasted my time parking my pickup a mile away and hiking to this spot so as not to frighten any wildlife!"

Soon the young couple was walking hand in hand along the ponds' shoreline, occasionally tossing rocks into the water while they talked. Their voices were now soft and quiet, and their eyes kept scanning the surrounding trees and bushes.

From my hiding spot, about twenty-five yards away, I could see them clearly, although they had no idea I was anywhere around. And as I continued to watch them it soon became apparent that they had stopped to explore much more than just a mountain pond. In fact, they hardly noticed the water at all.

This had become a perdicament! I'd come here to photograph deer and study their habits, not the habits of these two teen-agers! But before I'd realized what was happening it was much too late to stand up and announce my presence, since I really didn't want to embarrass them.

But as I watched, horrified, I knew I had to do something fast. Really fast!

And that's when the idea hit me! The Cougar Call!!!

"Guroowwwwwwwwwohhh!!" the big cat screamed out.

"Guroowwwwwwwwwohhh!!" it screamed again.

The lion's intended victims looked questioningly at each other and then towards the sound.

"Guroowwwwwwwwwohhh!!" the Cougar said once more, this time with even more feeling.

I must admit, I was surprised by the sounds coming from my voice on that day. They were realistic, to say the very least. Even I, from my secret hiding place, could easily envision the sleek and tawny body of the lion as it crouched in the bushes along the shoreline, its long tail twitching ever so slightly as it prepared to lunge at the hapless humans who had trespassed into its territory.

At first the kids were frozen motionless by the terrifying snarls, but only for an instant or two. Then, without a word to each other, they leaped to their feet and sprinted toward their motorcycle.

The boy, having a head start, led most of the race, but the young girl was no slouch either, and they arrived at the bike at the very same time.

In but a few seconds its motor came to life and I could hear it winding up loudly as the boy shifted quickly through the gears as they sped away.

As far as I could tell they hadn't even shared a single word in their haste to escape my "Cougar Call".




Now, squirrels are sure cute little guys aren't they? When one sees them at the park or in a campground its hard to resist holding out a potato chip, waiting breathlessly as they scurry toward you with their cute little feet and then take the chip right out of your hand with their cute little mouth.

Children scream with delight everytime this happens, and there are probably millions of snapshots of the event hidden away in closets all across America.

But let me tell you something about Mister Cutesey Wootsey Little Squirrel. There's a nasty, sinster side to this furry creature. He leads a double life, and if you're a deer hunter you'll know exactly what I'm talking about!

He comes silently through the forest, hopping from tree branch to tree branch on feet so light that even the forest itself is unaware of his presence. He comes with anger in his heart, with resolve in his soul. He comes to outst the invader of his turf, to viciously and mercilessly scold the hapless hunter who has inadvertantly sat beneath one of his personal trees. He come to raise havoc! He's..........

"A stoopid squirrell!!" I mutter under my breath. It's the second time this day that it's happened to me. I've come to despise the little devils!

And it always happens when the forest is at it quietest, or perhaps just as I just hear a small twig snap in a canyon fifty yards away. That's always the time four tiny squirrel feet scrape the tree bark 10 feet above my head.

"Oh Nooo!" I'll moan outloud as a screechy little voice opens its one-sided conversation.

"Err?!" it queries.

From that point onwards it matters not if I hold still, or if I move. It doesn't matter if I turn and make ugly faces at the little critter. And it doesn't matter one iota that I give him "the finger" or even the dreaded "double finger". He's there to stay. He's there to ruin my day!

"Err!" "Err!" "Err!" he says again loudly, then continues in quick little barks, "Err! Err! Squree! Chook! Chook! Chook! Chook! Chook! Err! Err! Err! Reeeee! Chook! Chook! Chook!"

Many frustrated hunters have been unable to figure out what these annoying squirrel words mean, exactly. But after years of experience I think I'm fairly well qualified to give a credible translation.

The first "Err!" is simply an exclamation of surprise as he sees me for the very first time. It kind of like he's saying "Whaaaazatt?!" in squirrel talk.

After that, as close as I can tell, comes the following words:

"Ooh Nooo!! There's a deer hunter sitting under my tree! I've got to warn everybody!" he exclaims.

"Hey! all you deer out there, especially you big bucks, don't come near my tree! There's a hunter here! A hunter! A hunter! Stay away! Stay awaaay!"

Now, this warning is repeated over and over and over again. Soon, Blue Jays and Magpies, drawn from afar by the excited chattering of the squirrel, blend in with their own loud screeches and cries. Before long the forest is alive with noise.

It's at this point, if he's at all smart, that the poor hunter will realize he's been beaten. Usually swearing loudly and shaking his fist at the noisy critters he'll shoulder his rifle and walk five or six miles until he finds another nice quiet spot in the forest. One that, hopefully, isn't inhabited by a squirrel.

This happened to me many, many times, until one October night, as I lay resting in my bed after one of these squirrle induced marches, I had a dream.

I dreamed I was sitting in the forest, leaned against a pine tree, with my rifle laid across my lap. And I was laughing until tears filled my eyes.

I was laughing because a squirrel, nearly frightened out of its scrawny little hide, was leaping madly from tree branch to tree branch, screaming in terror as it tried to get away from me.

You see, in my dream I had used my Cougar Call with great effect. I had, in fact, scared the bejeebers out of the devious little devil with it.

Awakening from my sleep with a start I sat straight up in my bed and shouted, "Halleluja!!!" into the darkness.

Becky, my wife, quickly rolled out of bed and onto the floor at that point. Over the years she has become somewhat frightful of my numerous vivid dreams and was quite adept in this maneuver.

Whenever I begin to thrash around or moan in my sleep she performs it, knowing it's necessary in order to protect herself from an accidental punch in the eye, or perhaps a kick in the ribs.

"What on earth is wrong with you now?" she asked as she peered warily over the bedspread.

"I got it!" I cried out excitedly. "The Cougar Call!" The Cougar Call!" That's the solution to the squirrel problem! It was there all the time! Why didn't I think of it before?"

Becky was quiet for a few moments, then with a sigh she slipped back into bed.

"Jeeze Ron," she said, "you are really strange. Did you know that? Why, oh why, couldn't I have married a normal man?"

I was in the woods earlier than normal the next morning, anxious to try out my Cougar Call on an unsuspecting squirrel.

It didn't take long.

"Err?!" the all too familiar voice said from the tree branches above my head. But before it could continue its uusual litany I took a deep breath and loudly exhaled my Cougar Call.

"Guroowwwwwwwwwohhh!!" the big cat screamed out.

"Guroowwwwwwwwwohhh!!" it screamed again.

The squirrel froze on the tree branch and looked at me with fear-filled eyes.

"Guroowwwwwwwwwohhh!!" the Cougar said once more, this time with even more feeling.

There was instant pandemonium as the squirrel scampered higher in the tree. He was singing a different tune now as he began to leap from branch to branch and tree to tree, just as he had in my dream.

"Chee! Chee! Reep! Ropp! Ropp! Ropp!Ropp! Wree! Wree! Bic! Bic! Bic! Bic! Bic!" he screamed out as he ran.

And as I listened to his rapidly fading voice I started laughing as his squirrel words rang in my ears.

"Oh M'God!! Oh M'God!!" he was screaming, "It's a Cougar! It's a Cougar! I thought it was a hunter but it's a Gosh Danged Cougar!

Oh M'God! Somebody help me! It's a Cougar! It's a Cougar! He's gonna' eat me! Somebody help me! Help! Help!"

Needless to say I was rather pleased with myself. My Cougar Call had worked once again. Worked like a dream, you could say, and never again would I be bothered by those pesky squirrels. Never again would I be forced to walk for miles and miles just to get away from them.

For I had a secret weapon now! I had my Cougar Call.

And I knew how to use it!

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