Acool southwesterly wind blewever so slightlythrough the stand. The sun was just starting to cast a few rays over the horizon, lumbering its way ever so slowly into the sky. I cast my eyes to the west, knowing if anything was to appear, it would probably come out of the Chevy on blocks or the old barn. There was nothing to do know but wait for the feeder to go off. Baiting is legal in Texas, so I had strategically placed the feeder between the Chevy and the barn. Some people prefer Purina, some Whiskas, some Friskies, but not me. I set patiently, until 7:05, when the feeder began throwing out Meow Mix with a little catnip. The cats would come. The cats would come. Within about 5 minutes, a tiny head began to peek around a fender. It was a small siamese tom. I had already filled my tom tag for siamese this year, and it was a very nice 9 1/4. Although it takes a 10 to get into the Boone & Crocket recordbook, this one did better on the Pope & Young. As the small tom cruised around, a few other cats joined in. Mostly manx with a few persians. Nothing I wanted today. Since the season ended today, I was holding out for a trophy. After nothing of any size showed, I decided to try my luck calling. Most big toms had heard mouse squeeks and prairie dog whistles all season, so I decided to utilize a new sound in my FoxPro FX3. I had prepared a special recording early in the season for this moment. I had caught a digital recording of that creepy catlady in town callingstray cats by pouring out feed and saying "Here, kitty, kitty, kitty". I began calling, slowly increasing my volume trying to get a response. THEN I SAW IT! A brief glimpse of him behind a run-down camper trailer. I readied my rifle. Some people claim a .17 is perfect for cat hunting, but I think it is too small myself. I feel much more confident in a larger rifle, such as my .22 if I think I'm going to encountersome of thebig toms found around these parts. Then he slowly began circling out of range, and through my scope I could see this one was truly thetom of a lifetime. It was a large tabby, and this one was destined for the recordbooks. I continued calling as he slowly circled downwind, trying to wind me. I prayed the field mouse cover scent would work. He froze up just out of range. I was afraid he had winded me. But then he slowly continued moving forward. Just as he got into range, he presented me with a broadside shot. With the excitement and adryenalin running, I could barely hold steady. I shot. The bullet found its mark, and he scampered only a short distance before he fell. Sometimes with certain cats, and tabby cats are no exception, the tail looks a lot bigger before the shot, yet suffers some ground shrinkage after the shot and the measurement. This one did not, earning top feral cat at the Texas Big Game awards, and the #3 all-time tabby in the Boone and Crockett recordbooks. This monster's tail scored a whopping 14 points, earning him a place on the mantle between my non-typical whitetail and mytrophy typical mulie, alongside my other tabby.
Some peole claim cat hunting is wrong, but those environmentalists don't know the damage a large tom like this does to the songbird population. Much less the mouse and vole populations. One this size might even take on birds as large as a blue jay, or even a squirrel. Hunting is all about balancing nature out, or the cats would overpopulate and virtually destroy the rodent and songbird populations. If you doubt me, explain this:
Tabby: Terror on the Plains
