Dukats Journal of Hunting

After my first lion hunt, when the dogs trailed off into the distance with that deep moaning wail on the fresh scent of a lion, I knew I was hooked.  What I didn't know is that I would be in the Arizona mountains chasing lions for many days to come.  After that first day, I got to spend several more days on horseback, following Layne and listening and learning about his twenty five years of lion hunting.  Layne had a story for every turn in the trail and as he smoked his cigar and spurred his horse up the mountain, you could tell he was enjoying every minute of it.

Layne's favorite stories were those about his good friend and hunting partner Ollie Barney.  He joked that although Ollie was getting up in his years he still scared him half to death.  It was obvious there was a great respect between the two and Ollie taught Layne many of the tricks of the lion hunting trade.

We always hunted with five or six dogs and the pack included several older experienced dogs, a few middle aged dogs that knew what to do once the elders found a trail, and a few young dogs learning to hunt.  It seemed the dogs always found some scent and it was our job to try to keep up.  Layne would lean back in the saddle and say, "I'm sure glad those dogs found some scent because I had no idea which way we should go next."

Regardless of which dog barked, Layne would always wait to hear his old dog Liza let out a bark.  Lion hunters know their dogs and not only have each bark memorized, but can normally tell if they are on a lion or some other critter.  Several times when we heard Liza barking in the distance, Laynes eyes would light up knowing she had found some scent, but when she returned a little later off the trail, he would look at me and say "what did you do to my dogs, they never act like this."

The country was steep and rough and it never failed that by days end, at least a couple of the dogs had trailed off to unknown reaches of some distant canyon and did not return.  Layne would leave a saddle blanket and a bowl of water, load up the horses, and hope for the best for the hounds.  After several trips with the same result, I ribbed him that it shouldn't be called lion hunting, it should be called dog hunting.  It was one of the few times he didn't laugh.  So much for my lion hunting humor.

After a few exciting trips, the heat of the Arizona summer started to strain the horses and the dogs and Layne told me it was time to call it quits until the following fall.  He told me quite a few of his hunters never received a call back for the fall hunt, but he enjoyed hunting with me and promised he would get a me lion.

Unfortunately, that's the last time I saw Layne ,as he was in a tragic plane crash later the summer.  It was a very sad day when I heard the news, but I knew he had enjoyed his life and lived it to the fullest.  As fall neared, I knew Layne had a partner I could contact and I decided I needed to give the lion hunting another shot.  Layne and I were hunting for his 100th lion when he left us and I had some unfinished business to complete for both of us.