Cat Hunting in Wisconsin?
"We spotted small cat herd in a glen about 30 yards to the north. After masking our scent with cat piss, we belly-crawled up to the edge of the clearing for a closer look. There were about 20 of them, milling around a litter box. Frank had a trophy tabby in his sights, but I was looking for something bigger. I sounded a few MEOWS and tossed out a ball of yarn to attract any rutting males.
"Sure enough, a huge Persian tom came bounding into the glen, almost right in front of my barrel. He was a real beaut - fluffy white with long whiskers and little metal name tag that glinted in the sun. The boys back at the lodge would be green with envy when I mounted this kitty's head on my wall.
"I patiently waited until he exposed his side and then took my shot. DAMN! TOO HIGH! The herd scattered to the four winds, but the Persian whirled and charged furiously through the brush at us. Frank and I leapt to our feet and ran down the hill, the hissing beast not more than a few feet behind us. I could feel his hot, tuna-scented breath on my ankles as I clambered up a tree, but Frank kept on running and barely made it back to the truck before the cat was on him.
"I'll never forget his screams as the animal vicously clawed at his shins, tearing his camo trousers to shreds. Luckily, I still had my rifle. My hands shaking, I steadied the barrel on a branch and pulled the trigger. This time my bullet found its target. The cat took a few steps and then fell, saving us the trouble of having to track him through the woods.
"Frank had a few nasty scratches on his legs, but they were quickly diminished by our pride as we drove through town with the kitty carcass strapped to the hood of my Ford. It was the hunting trip of a lifetime, and I can't wait to go out next week and get that tabby!"